He’s ‘Mr. Smooth’ at Horseshoes, but Bush Misses Boat With Fishing Rod

“Mr. Smooth,” he calls himself--the ultimate sportsman who can slam a picture-perfect drive off the tee (sometimes) or sink a putt before a hushed gallery (from time to time) or throw a ringer just about any time at horseshoes.

But Mr. Smooth--President George Herbert Walker Bush, to the uninitiated--has a special love: his twin-engine, V-8 Cigarette-class boat Fidelity, a sleek, churning and, of course, loud hunk of wave-making horsepower capable of hitting speeds of 50 m.p.h. on the choppy Atlantic off Walkers Point.

Ever since he was a young lad watching older boys pilot motor boats up and down the tidal Kennebunk River, Bush has had a special fondness for the waterways and boats of coastal Maine.

And just as he can bounce from play to work and back again--drawing a neat line between the two while on vacation here--out on the water he can throw the throttle up to speeds that pull back at passengers’ jowls and then shift gears entirely.

That’s when he cuts the engine, sets to drifting and tries his hand at yet one more sport, throwing a line overboard to see what the Atlantic Ocean will offer up.

The President has apparently been hitting respectable golf scores--although the score is guarded with the care of the nation’s war codes, he has dropped hints that he’s not dissatisfied.

He jogs almost daily, in a personal demonstration of stamina in which he paces himself through an early morning 20- to 22-minute run on the back paths near his summer home.

But he has fared poorly in his personal effort to thin the North Atlantic’s schools of bluefish and haddock.

He arrived in Maine on his annual summer vacation on Aug. 16, and has thus far failed to catch one.

“Lousy,” was the President’s response when asked about the fishing so far.

Indeed, it is turning into a sore point.

On Thursday, he gratefully accepted a 5-pound haddock offered by Peder Ashley, a local fisherman who was cleaning fish with two colleagues when Bush happened by on the Kennebunk River.

When asked by a reporter whether the only way he could land a fish was to be given one, the President answered succinctly: “Never mind.”

“We’ll take him home and eat the heck out of him,” the President said by way of thanks.

Ever hopeful, he added later--with a postscript that demonstrated an apparent sensitivity that his personal failure so far may be seen too widely: “We’ll get some. I’d like it recorded on CNN.”

But on Friday morning, setting out once again on Fidelity, with two reporters aboard, the President continued his streak of bad luck.

Returning to the dock to pick up his wife, Barbara, he ran over a board or a lobster pot that broke the housing of the starboard propeller.

The boating excursion cut short, the President bounced over to the horseshoe pit for several rounds with the reporters, son Jeb, grandson George P. Bush and two young friends of his grandson.

He kept up a steady chatter throughout 45 minutes of play, hollering with each ringer he scored, “Mr. Smooth does it again.”

He won every match he played.

Then, with this competition ended, the President headed for the Cape Arundel Golf Club for 18 holes on the course he has visited six times during his week and a half in Kennebunkport.

His visit to the golf course brings out a fleet of Secret Service and state police vehicles--ranging from heavily armed, and armored, four-wheel drive vehicles to electric golf carts that follow him from tee to tee.

Meanwhile, the officers block off traffic on the adjacent country roads--to the irritation of local motorists accustomed to delays only from slow-moving tractors or tourists.

By Sunday, Bush aides, in the grand tradition of all administrations, were blaming Bush’s troubles with rod and reel on the press. Noisy motorboats chartered by network camera crews to watch Bush while on the water were scaring off all the fish, White House aides were saying.

Perhaps in hopes of evening the score, Bush on Sunday afternoon joined his staff in challenging a team of reporters, reporters’ family members and local residents on the softball diamond.

Bush, who batted eighth during his career as first baseman of the Yale baseball team, moved up in the order this time, batting cleanup. His first effort, with his team already down 6-0, did little to enhance his image: The President swung at the first pitch and sent an easily caught fly to center for the third out.

His second at bat was an improvement, however, a double down the right field line that scooted under the glove of Jeff Potvin, a waiter at a local restaurant who was playing first base for the media team.

True to his past, Bush played better on defense, missing only one play at first--a ball thrown too high by his third baseman.

But asked later about his “good field, no hit” reputation, Bush protested. “True, I wasn’t the greatest hitter in baseball. I think the lifetime average was around .250, closer to .230,” he said. But “to those who say ‘good field, no hit,’ I think it’s a vicious assault not only on my baseball ability, but on my character.”

Bush, of course, is an intense competitor. A ribbing that he had not fared well in a previous day’s tennis match with two of his four sons brought a grunting admission of defeat.

And when the President chose to needle a reporter about the questionable quality of his tennis game, and the reporter retorted with a stiff verbal volley over the net, Mrs. Bush had to step in--chiding both over the nature of their conversation.

“That’s so childish,” she said, putting them both down.