For Bush, a Sense of Relief Eases the Disappointment : Incumbent: Combative no more, he is gracious in defeat, urging nation to ‘stand behind’ successor.

If the end brought disappointment, it also meant relief, and for George Bush the pain of the past year seemed for the moment diminished by the fact that it was finally over.

A combative politician no more, Bush turned gracious in defeat. His demeanor was that of an executive suddenly conscious of possibilities he could barely fathom while fighting to keep a hard-charging challenger at bay.

On the day Americans decided that the presidency should go to a younger man, the 68-year-old Bush had lunch with his wife. He bought a fishing reel, country-music tapes and a hunting license. He watched his sons play tennis and played horseshoes himself.

And when he appeared at last before a small and subdued crowd in the Westin Galleria hotel here, the lines that for months have etched his face in worry, anger and frustration were less apparent than his pride in family, friends and what he had accomplished.

“The people have spoken,” he said, “and we respect the majesty of the democratic system.”

In brief remarks that conveyed his enduring concern for the responsibilities of the office he will soon leave, Bush asked that the nation “stand behind our new President.” He pledged to work closely with President-elect Bill Clinton’s team to “ensure the smooth transition of power” and said “there is work to be done.”

In closing, he issued a special appeal to young Americans, saying they should not be swayed from public service by the “smoke and fire of a campaign year.”

His close friend and chief of staff, James A. Baker III, sought to ease the pain with a joke: “It’s real hell to lose these squeakers, isn’t it?”

Neither the President nor his supporters were in a mood to laugh back. The small crowd chanted “No more press!” as reporters accompanying Bush entered the ballroom, then switched to “Thank you George!” as the President arrived.

Bush thanked his wife, Barbara, congratulated Clinton for his “strong campaign,” and assured aides and partisans that the White House team had “fought the good fight.” But he seemed conscious that his moment had passed. He looked ahead to a retirement--”very active in the grandchild business”--and left the stage a bare five minutes after he arrived, escorted by a cluster of family and close friends.

In Indianapolis a few minutes later, Vice President Dan Quayle also bowed out, saying Clinton “deserves our respect.”

Appearing at a rally with his wife, Marilyn, and three teen-age children, Quayle said Clinton “ran a good campaign, he ran a tough campaign. . .. . If he runs the country as well as he ran the campaign, we’ll be all right.”

As his supporters chanted “Thank you, Dan!” and “Ninety-six! Ninety-six! Ninety-six!” Quayle said: “Tonight, my friends, is a night for healing. Now is not the time for political debate. That will come another day.”

Bush’s concession came minutes after the polls closed in California, but for the President and his top aides the final recognition had come hours earlier. After morning exit polls showed Clinton taking a commanding lead across the nation, Robert M. Teeter, Bush’s top strategist, decided to head to a health club. There was no point, he decided, in mulling over such gloomy results.

And even when Teeter and campaign manager Frederic V. Malek settled down at last to monitor the results, they felt no air of anticipation. They met in a room near Bush’s suite in the Houstonian Hotel with Baker, who would carry the bad news to the President.

In defeat, Bush becomes the fifth President this century whose aspirations to reelection were cut short by voters. But perhaps more important, at least to his psyche, he was the first to be defeated by a man young enough to be his son.

Bush’s friends had said for months that he could hardly conceive of Bill Clinton as President. The would-be successor was just 46 years old; the state he governed was just a Southern backwoods.

Until very near the end, Bush had repeatedly expressed confidence that the polls were wrong, that reason would prevail and that the American people would recognize the value of experience and thus honor his request to let him “finish the job.” Aides even drafted a victory speech in which Bush was to claim inspiration for his comeback: “Move over, Harry Truman!” he would say.

But age and experience were almost handicaps in a year in which voters’ quest for change seemed to outweigh any qualms about a new and untested face.

As the end drew near, Bush seemed to have begun to confront the prospect of defeat. He acknowledged that he might have been mistaken in waiting so long to begin a full-fledged campaign. He spoke again and again of his relief that the race would soon be over and that win or lose, he would no longer have to contend with polls, handlers or debates.

He even spoke with evident relish about a retirement that would be “big on golf,” unconcerned about the image of a President racing offshore in his gas-guzzling boat.

In the final days, even as he scurried around the country trying to rouse support for his comeback bid, Bush seemed to have begun a metamorphosis from candidate to grandfather solicitous of others’ needs.

When he summoned the Oak Ridge Boys from the back of his plane Monday and asked them to sing some gospel tunes, he insisted that Air Force stewards aboard his jumbo 747 crowd into his private office to listen to the show. Later, in a Louisville, Ky., airport hangar, he signed the press tags of some reporters who had covered his White House tenure.

On Tuesday morning, he seemed intent on doing what he could not do for much of the yearlong campaign. He had breakfast with his brother, a son and daughter and favored top aides. He held a reunion with family and friends on the grounds of the Houstonian.

In between, dressed in a yellow polo shirt and blazer, he headed for a nearby strip mall to stop in at an Oshman’s Sporting Goods store and a Sound Warehouse record store. It was his first public shopping venture since last Christmas, when aides prevailed upon him to buy $28 worth of sweat socks and children’s clothes as a sign that he was doing his part to stimulate the economy.

This time, his purchases were clearly his own. The reel reflected his appetite for bass fishing; the seven tapes added new tunes to a collection dominated by what he jokes are his two favorite types of music: country and western.

The $6 hunting license carried with it the promise of another annual indulgence: his New Year’s expedition to the Texas ranch of his friend Will Farish in quest of elusive quail.

Bush stops briefly at the White House today before a long weekend at Camp David, Md. Asked during the morning what he would do after the election, he said vaguely that he would “go back home and then figure it out.”

When a reporter pressed him about his post-Christmas quail-hunting plans, however, the soon-to-be ex-President seemed to brighten. “Maybe before Christmas,” he said.

Times staff writer Paul Richter, in Indianapolis, contributed to this story.