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Mr. and Mrs.President

See How They Ran

As both the Democratic and Republican campaigns have made clear, co-parenting is in, the co-presidency is out. Both prospective first ladies have paraded as cheerleaders, not strategists, as partners in life but not in power. They are doing what most Americans want first ladies to do -- shape the president's image as a warm family man, not dictate his policies.

Like it or not, decades into the feminist revolution, political wives still have one essential task -- to vouch for the candidate's virtue, humanity, and, today, continence. Once upon a time, spouses telegraphed this message silently, demurely. Today, they must shout it from the rooftops -- and seal it with a kiss.

"I'm the luckiest woman in the world. I'm Barbara Bush, married to George Bush," Mrs. Bush gushed throughout the 1988 campaign. At the convention, she overcame her usual reserve and cuddled with her husband to help overcome the Bushes' public-display-of-affection gap with the touchy-feely Dukakises. That year, Mrs. Bush traveled 50,000 miles to 92 cities, often showing a slide show of then-Vice President Bush at the Western Wall, the Berlin Wall, the Great Wall, as well as photos of "Gampy" Bush in bed with his grandchildren.

In that spirit, both Laura Bush and Tipper Gore concluded their respective convention orations with a glorious, wifely non sequitur. "One day, God willing, George will make a fabulous grandfather," Laura Bush proclaimed. "In the meantime -- in the meantime, he'll make a great president." Tipper Gore introduced her own homey slide show by saying: "But I also want you to know that as a husband, father and grandfather Al has always been there for our family and he will always be there for your family. And listen, did I mention I have loved him for more than 30 years? And yes, from first sight." And then came The Kiss.

Until her latest pose as a serious, policy-oriented candidate, Hillary Clinton herself spent six years masquerading as Barbara Bush. Mrs. Clinton rehabilitated her reputation after the 1994 health-care debacle by reinventing herself as a traditional, "It Takes a Village," do-gooding, child-oriented, apolitical first lady. Now, in running for the Senate, Hillary Clinton is reversing herself, yet again. Win or lose, by ending her tenure this way, Mrs. Clinton has guaranteed that she will appear more similar to Eleanor Roosevelt than to Barbara Bush -- that her compromises will be viewed as small, strategic detours from her trail-blazing.

Mrs. Clinton's historical sleight of hand will probably work because most journalists and scholars who study first ladies are constantly on the lookout for the next Eleanor Roosevelt. First ladies who wield power make for better stories, more inspiring role models, and greater legitimacy for an oft-neglected corner of the scholarly world. That is why most books and articles will exaggerate a Hillary Clinton's input and underestimate a Barbara Bush's.

In following Barbara Bush, Laura Bush and Tipper Gore are not simply promising there will be no future White House sex scandals. Their behavior, as archaic as it may seem, reveals a hip understanding of the complex, contradictory, yet critical post of Mrs. President. In the era of the celebrity presidency, where personality often trumps policy and the candidate with the best story wins, presidential politics is a family business.

A modern president needs character witnesses -- a first lady can testify and say, as Barbara Bush did at the 1992 Republican convention, "I know him best." Moreover, the modern president is the nation's cultural leader, helping to shape his times. A first lady can reinforce the president's message -- and do a world of good, as evidenced by Lady Bird Johnson's beautification campaign, which resonated with Lyndon Johnson's Great Society crusade, or Barbara Bush's literacy efforts, which underscored George Bush's claim to a "kinder, gentler" form of Reaganism.

It is, of course, tempting to suggest that in the 21st century, the idea of the "first lady" is too 19th centuryish and should be retired. But few can control the American temptation to glorify and deify. As long as the President -- capital P -- works in the Oval Office, lives in the White House, and flies on Air Force One, his wife will be the first lady, his kinfolk, the first family. The challenge, as Barbara Bush recognized, is to accept the gossamer shackles of this frustrating, anachronistic, challenging, and epoch-defining task, and, if you are really good, even enjoy yourself occasionally.