"True, so true."
"What's with the beard? You always complain about having to look good for the cameras."
"What's the worst that could happen? I lose the next election?"
Marilyn looked stumped at that. "Seriously?!"
I shrugged. "Maybe I'll let my hair grow out, grow a pony tail, start smoking those funny cigarettes..."
"I can't wait for you to tell Frank and Will that one!" We went out to the kitchen. "A pony tail and baldness? That ought to look good. Maybe you can have the official portrait redone."
I had to blink at that one. "Let me think about that one first."
"Good idea."
Nobody said anything to me again on Sunday, though Frank gave me a very strange look. He did say something to me on Monday, after lunch, because I was going to meet with the Prime Minister for a brief photo op and then a dinner at Government House. "You planning on shaving, boss?"
"Frank, I'm on vacation."
"Mister President, you're the President even on vacation"
"I'm only the President for another eight weeks, Frank. Maybe I'm getting a start on my retirement."
Marilyn and I were sitting on the rear veranda. Frank looked shocked, and sat down across from us. "Sir?"
"Frank, if I stop shaving and grow a beard, it won't be the end of the republic. It won't even be the pause of the republic. What's the worst that could happen, Frank? A usurper will rise up to throw down the king? Guess what? It's already happened. I'll be nothing but a footnote in eleventh grade history in a few weeks. Who cares?"
"We haven't had a President with facial hair this century."
"Frank, this is the 21st Century. The only Presidents we've had are George Bush and me."
"No, I mean, yes, you know what I mean!"
"Frank, Teddy Roosevelt had a mustache, and that was in the 20th Century.", I told him.
"Really? We're going back to Teddy Roosevelt?", he exclaimed.
"Nice mustache, Frank, big and bushy."
"You're not helping me here, Mister President!" He looked over at Marilyn. "Did you know about this plan?"
Marilyn laughed. "Frank, I've seen him with a beard and mustache. He had one through most of the Eighties, before he got into politics."
I nodded. "It wasn't as white. That's a bit disappointing.", I commented wryly.
"When was the last time we had a President with a beard? Lincoln?", asked my Chief of Staff.
I gave him a disapproving look. "Frank, really, Grant was after Lincoln. And he had a full beard and mustache. Lincoln didn't have the mustache. There were a few others, too."
Frank threw his hands up in the air. "I can't wait to see the press release Will writes about this one!"
"Don't worry. He can include it in his book, 'I Survived Carl Buckman.' He's writing it with Ari Fleischer."
Frank gave a manic laugh at that, and sighed.
Nobody really said anything at the dinner that evening. I said various statesmanlike things, such as that even though I was no longer the President, the Bahamas had no better friend, and I would be happy to act as an Ambassador of Friendship for President McCain. Our regular Ambassador, Ned Siegel, simply smiled and nodded. He wasn't going to complain about my facial hair, since he also had a beard and mustache. He simply said, "I like the look, Mister President."
"My Chief of Staff thinks it's the end of American democracy."
"Just tell him the truth. Only real men grow beards and mustaches!"
I laughed and added, "And God only made a few perfect heads. The rest he covered with hair."
Ned had a head full of hair, but he laughed anyway. "I'd ask if you've mentioned that to your replacement, but I want to keep my job a little longer."
"He's got one hell of a comb-over, doesn't he?" Ned laughed at that one, too. "Sucker must be glued down!"
We didn't hear anything out of the press over the next few days, so nobody back home must have been following the vacation trip. I was old news by now, almost forgotten. Everything was now McCain, McCain, McCain, and the changes he planned and what he wanted to keep. The only way I was going to make it into the news was if Air Force One or Marine One crashed in the near future with me on board.
We flew home on Monday, November 17th, after eight very pleasant days of doing nothing, without the world collapsing around us. None of the Air Force or Marine staff mentioned my beard, which I had trimmed into a goatee. They did stare, but they didn't say anything to their Commander in Chief. That lasted about as long as it took for me to walk into the West Wing and say hello. Will Brucis said, "Welcome back, Mister President. Have a good vacation?"
"Very nice, Will. Very restful. It looks like the world survived without me."
"Yes, sir, we struggled through. When do you plan to shave, sir?"
"I shaved this morning, Will.", I answered, smiling. I figured I could drag out his discomfort.
"Uh, yes, sir, I mean, uh, all of your face."
"Did Frank call you and tell you about this?", I quizzed.
"There might have been some hair related conversations. Are you going for a new look or something?"
"Why not? Think America will survive the shock? Worried I'll lose the next election?"
"Well, you've seen the uproar every time your wife changes her hair. That will be nothing compared to this!"
That was true enough. Marilyn had changed her cut a couple of times, and the press had given each style its own name! "It's only eight weeks, Will. The nation will struggle through."
"Yes, sir. I'll go warn the barber!"
I laughed loudly at that. Human hair grows about half an inch a month, or so I had been told once. Back when I was a civilian, I used to get a haircut whenever it got a bit too long, maybe every six weeks or so, unless I got caught up in something and forgot. Once I got into politics it became a scheduled event every two weeks! If my hair grew one-quarter inch, it was time for a precision styling. Your hair and appearance can't change one iota compared to your campaign posters or publicity shots. I could launch a war on somebody, but if my hair appeared mussed that would be the lead topic on the news, before the war.
My new look was national news that evening, with telephoto lens shots of Marilyn, Stormy, and me climbing down from Marine One. The regular networks just did a quick thirty second piece on it, comparing me to other presidents with beards or mustaches, almost all of whom, it turned out, were Republican. (Except for Grover Cleveland, a Democrat; not sure what the significance of any of this really was.) The news networks, on the other hand, spent massive time and money on this, bringing in various experts to consider the significance of my facial hair, and whether I could have been elected with a beard or mustache, and commenting copiously on Thomas Dewey, the last major candidate with a mustache, who had lost to Truman in 1948. Did the mustache cause Dewey to lose? Fox News did a half hour special on this.
Will, who was waging a losing battle against male pattern baldness himself, was at a loss to explain this silliness to anybody. He did point out that if any of the reporters bothered to go into their photo archives from my time with the Buckman Group they would find any number of photos of me with a mustache and goatee. The silliest exchange was on Wednesday morning, when it became obvious that I was ignoring the calls to shave.
Q: "Has the First Lady commented about whether she likes the President's mustache and beard?"
A: (Staring!) "No, that hasn't come up in any conversation that I'm aware of."
Q: "If she complained, would the President shave?"