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Secrets of the Social White House
| Article
# : |
19707 |
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Section : |
LIFE
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| Issue
Date : |
9 / 1991 |
2,649 Words |
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As told to Linda Haner
Stephen Bauer is coauthor (with Frances Leighton) of At Ease
in the White House. Linda Haner is a food and travel writer. |
Muhammad Ali was at it again. This time one of the world's most famous faces and attention getters was about to cause a social crisis at the White House.
I, Stephen Bauer, was the White House social aide charged with seeing that all the guests were in the State Dining Room before the president and first lady entered. Everyone was there except one couple--Muhammad Ali and Veronica, his new bride.
Ali and his wife were dawdling along in the East Room, examining various art objects, talking and laughing, having a good time. But much more laughing and lingering and they would have to walk in to dinner after the president--a violation of protocol that could get a social aide like myself into a lot of trouble. Somebody had to move them on.
Unfortunately, I had already had a little run-in with Veronica some months back, before she was Mrs. Ali, and I didn't want to annoy her a second time. On that occasion, I had been introducing guests to the new president, Jimmy Carter, in a receiving line, as she approached. She wanted to be introduced as Mrs. Ali, but I knew that she and Ali were not yet married, even though she had borne him a child. She was stunningly beautiful, but my loyalty was to the president, so I edited what Veronica asked me to say and introduced her as Miss Veronica Porche. If looks could kill, I would have died on the spot. Visibly upset, she could do nothing except say hello since the president was already shaking her hand.
Here she was again, but now she really was Mrs. Ali. I had no choice but to go over and say hello and encourage her and Ali to hurry into the dining room. Maybe she wouldn't recognize me.
Taking a few steps toward the door, Ali joked that he liked the scenery and that he really didn't want to leave yet. And then, with that famous Cheshire Cat grin, he stopped and said, "No one is going to make me."
The room was empty except for us, so I put up my fists and danced around a little. "We may have to call out the Army," I said, succumbing to temporary idiocy.
Ali rose to the occasion like a true champion. Perched on his toes and raising two of the biggest hams with knuckles I'd ever seen, Ali growled, "Oh, yeah?" Somehow, suddenly, he didn't sound like he was
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