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America’s First lady Nancy Reagan swept into the White House in 1981, a swirl of designer gowns and pricey china, and was quickly dismissed as a pre-feminist throwback concerned only with fashion, decorating and entertaining. She needed a less frivolous image. And she got it.
By the time she packed up eight years later, the former movie actress was fending off accusations that she’d become a “dragon lady,” wielding secret, unchecked power within Ronald Reagan’s administration — and doing it based on astrology to boot.
All along she maintained that her only mission was to back her “Ronnie” and strengthen his presidency.
“I’m a woman who loves her husband,” she said, “and I make no apologies for looking out for his personal and political welfare.”
Mrs. Reagan died Sunday at her home in the Bel-Air section of Los Angeles of congestive heart failure. She was 94.
She was Ronald Reagan’s closest adviser and fierce protector throughout his journey from Hollywood actor to governor to president — and finally during his 10-year battle with Alzheimer’s disease. She served as his full-time caregiver as his mind melted away, and after his death in 2004 dedicated herself to tending his legacy through his presidential library in Simi Valley, California.
She also championed Alzheimer’s patients, raising millions of dollars for research and breaking with fellow conservative Republicans to advocate for stem cell research.
Her dignity and perseverance in these post-White House roles smoothed out public perceptions of Nancy Reagan that had been fickle as far back as her days as first lady of California. Controversies always stuck to her.
It may have been because hers was the pricklier personality. While Reagan was amiable and easygoing, Mrs. Reagan was direct and demanding. He was an optimist, she was a worrier. He was overly trusting; she watched for disloyalty from close aides. Reagan hated to fire anyone or even exert discipline; his wife played the heavy, whether with their children at home or the president’s staff in the White House.
The couple’s mutual devotion over 52 years of marriage was legendary. They were forever holding hands. She watched his political speeches with a look of such steady adoration it was dubbed “the gaze.” He called her “Mommy” and penned a lifetime of gushing love notes.
Anne Frances Robbins, nicknamed Nancy, was born July 6, 1921, in New York City. Her parents separated soon after she was born and her mother, film and stage actress Edith Luckett, went on the road. Nancy was reared by an aunt until 1929, when her mother left show business and married Dr. Loyal Davis, a wealthy Chicago neurosurgeon. He gave Nancy his name and a socialite’s home. She majored in drama at Smith College and found stage work with the help of her mother’s connections.
Acting was never a career, she said, just something to do until she got married. It led her to Ronald Reagan in 1950, when he was president of the Screen Actors Guild. Later, she wrote that she realized on their first blind date “he was everything that I wanted.”
She was 30 years old when they wed two years later, on March 4, 1952. Daughter Patti was born in October of that year and son Ron followed in 1958. Reagan already had a daughter, Maureen, and an adopted son, Michael, from his prior marriage to actress Jane Wyman. (Later, spats and breaches with her rebellious grown children would become a frequent source of embarrassment for Mrs. Reagan.)
She was thrust into political life when her husband ran for governor in 1966, and found it too rough. “The movies were custard compared to politics,” Mrs. Reagan said.
Her eight years as California first lady were a preview of her turn on the national stage.
As the nation’s first lady, she ran into controversy even before her husband was sworn in. Her lavish lifestyle — in the midst of a recession and with her husband’s administration cutting spending on the needy — inspired the mocking moniker “Queen Nancy.”
She won better press coverage by spoofing her clotheshorse reputation with a comic song at Washington’s annual Gridiron roast. And her travels across the U.S. promoting the “Just Say No” anti-drug campaign for kids and teens helped develop a more serious, sympathetic conception of the first lady.
She felt it was proper for the first lady to advise the president on anything, and she did: She urged Reagan to finally break his long silence on the AIDS crisis. She nudged him to accept responsibility for the Iran-Contra arms-for-hostages affair. And she buttressed advisers pushing Reagan to thaw relations with Soviet leader Mikhail Gorbachev, over the objections of the administration’s “evil empire” hawks.
Her substantial influence within the White House came to light only slowly in her husband’s second term and afterward. Her familiar stare and frozen smile, formerly disparaged as Barbie-doll vacant, later came to be described as steely.
(With inputs from AP)
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