Bush, on Campaign Trail, Hosts Media, Texas-Style

If Friday on the campaign trail were a movie, it would have to be called “Me, Myself and George W. Bush.”

For what began as a little picnic on the Central Texas prairie for about 30 members of the national press corps ended up as a struggle between conflicting forces--homespun versus highfalutin--in the character of the man who would be president.

The host wore dusty Wranglers and a wide smile, offered his own tube of sunscreen to his palest guest, drove a Chevy truck with dog Spot on his lap and chatted, on occasion, with a mouth full of cookie.

And the conversation? Choosing a running mate in the race to lead the Free World. Writing the biggest speech of his life, the one in which he accepts the Republican nomination for president. And what his famous father thinks about it all, especially about picking a potential vice president.

George H. W. Bush, presidential paterfamilias, “trusts his boy to make the right decision, and I will make the right decision,” Bush said as he stood beneath the branches of a sprawling pecan tree with his wife, Laura. “I’m going to make my mind up here over the weekend.”

The biggest question of the day--besides the running mate thing, which Bush wouldn’t answer--was why a man who lives in a fish bowl would invite a pack of journalists out to his only private place in the world, where he and Laura are building what they hope will someday be the Western White House.

The jaundiced might consider it George W.’s way of ensuring good coverage as the political season is poised to heat up. Who, after all, could break tortilla chips with the candidate in his very own home and then write anything nasty about him on the eve of the Republican National Convention?

But maybe it was just as Bush billed it, the opportunity for a house-proud husband to show off the land that lies dearest to his heart.

“This is a beautiful piece of land, and we’re really pleased to share it with you,” the candidate said simply of this ranch just west of Waco. “I love the variety of the land. It is a unique place that has got a lot of Texas in it.”

While motive remained a mystery, on Friday anyway, a few things became pretty darn clear: Bush doesn’t get behind the wheel of a car much these days, an admission he made readily enough himself, as he zigged and zagged through the sere prairie.

Also obvious as the dust blew and the temperature rose above 100 and the cattle took refuge beneath the spreading oak trees, was that George W. Bush is comfortable here, with his big silver belt buckle and bass-stocked reservoirs, in the place “where I relearned my driving skills.”

“I’m what I call a windshield rancher,” he said as he traversed his land. “I get in my pickup and drive around and see what you see, a lot of game. Here’s what I’ve seen so far: turkey, deer, fox, skunk, raccoon, opossum, armadillo.”

Oh, and he’s not much of a home decorator, which he also admits as he walks through his half-built ranch house--completion date Nov. 7, a.k.a. election day. “I’ve asked for a king-sized bed, a good shower with a good hard spray and some comfortable chairs on the porch,” he said with a laugh. The rest, he said, is up to Laura.

Regular guy? Well, sort of. Well, maybe not. Unlike his neighbors, the Chevy he drove this day was packed with photographers scrambling over the passenger seat and each other for close-ups of man, dog and landscape.

The pickup trucks that followed formed a sort of makeshift motorcade, complete with television cameras and Secret Service agents. The ranch hands hanging around specialized in a different kind of heavy lifting: crafting policy, writing speeches, translating the candidate to the media.

And the ranch house? Not something you’d likely find on “Bonanza.” The graceful structure of native limestone will be completely up to Americans With Disabilities Act standards. “We have some friends in wheelchairs,” explained Laura Bush. “And we built it so we can get old here and get around.”

Refrigeration will be an environmentally friendly system powered by ground water collected in a trench around the house. Each room will have a different view of a majestic oak.

And just how big will the house be? And how much will it set Bush back? Architect David Heymann, on hand to explain his design, had been asked to exercise the better part of valor on these two points. His only comment: “It’s really small for this part of Texas.”