Confessions of a Political Spouse, by James Schroeder, $16.95. Several years after his wife, Pat Schroeder, was elected to Congress from Colorado, James Schroeder co-founded the Dennis Thatcher Society, named, of course, for the husband of Britain’s Margaret Thatcher. Members were obscure men whose wives outshone them in politics or business.
Justices Ruth Bader Ginsberg’s and Sandra Day O’Connor’s husbands were members, but Elizabeth Dole’s spouse, Bob Dole, was too prominent. Some members had to resign when they became more famous than their wives. Former Vice President Dick Cheney was one.
Beyond supporting their wives, society members didn’t do much more than have lunch from time to time, once with Dennis Thatcher himself. They couldn’t agree on an agenda, although they did come together on one issue, the club motto: Yes, Dear.
Schroeder spent 24 years playing second banana to his very visible wife, and he has a great deal of experience to share with other dual-career couples, especially those in which the wife is more prominent.
“Confessions of a Political Spouse” is a droll, tongue-in-cheek account filled with advice. It offers a peek at the behind-the-scenes maneuvering in Washington. And it’s also a story of a loving marriage and a biography of sorts of Jim Schroeder, who is no slouch in his own field of international law.
Pat and Jim Schroeder met at Harvard Law School, where he was intrigued with the brilliant, witty woman who, he admits, always “dressed funny”: She wore bedroom slippers with her wedding gown because of a bee sting on her foot.
They moved to Denver after graduation, and Jim seemed destined for a political career. He ran in a conservative district for the state legislature, losing by just 40 votes. A couple of years later at a political meeting where liberals were looking for a congressional candidate to run against a popular Republican incumbent, someone suggested to Jim, “Why doesn’t your wife run? He shot back, “Why doesn’t yours?”
Jim lost that particular argument, but as the brilliant advertising campaign pointed out after the election, “She won, we won.” Of course, nobody actually expected the mother of two, one in diapers, to be elected to Congress. In fact, when I called Pat, an old friend, to congratulate her the day after the election, she told me, “Jim said this morning maybe we ought to rethink this.”
Too late. Now, the couple was faced with, among other things, finding a new career for Jim. Unlike many congressional spouses, he refused to get a job in lobbying or government work that would conflict with his wife’s position or might cause her embarrassment.
Women were a rarity in Congress in 1972 when the Schroeders arrived. At an orientation meeting for new members, Speaker of the House Carl Alpert grabbed Jim’s hand and asked what committee assignments he wanted. And lining up in the reception line at a State Department function, Jim was asked to precede his wife. When he replied that his wife, not he, was the representative, a woman said, “Oh, you’re Mr. Pat Schroeder,” a remark he was to hear often. Other men might have bristled. But Jim generally replied that Pat had gone a long way on his name.
Jim had terrific political instincts and that there must have been plenty of political pillow talk. So readers will wish Jim had discussed how he influenced his wife. He’s mum on that subject, however, except for a few remarks about her contemplated 1988 run for the presidency. Jim quotes a memo he wrote to his wife: “Pat, it’s still up to you, but I think you can do it, and should do it.”
She didn’t, and hearing the groundswell of disappointment when she announced her decision in Civic Center, she put her head on her husband’s shoulder and cried. Opponents said that proved she was too weak to be president. For years, Pat kept a list in her office of famous men who cried: Ronald Reagan, George Bush, Bob Dole and perhaps the most famous most famous reference, “Jesus wept.”
Jim Schroeder is at his best when he gives insights into both his wife and their relationship. She never sorts darks and lights when she does the laundry, so Jim’s been known to wear pink T-shirts. Pat once remarked that men don’t turn on the dishwasher because they think it will make them sterile. Pat can’t cook and once joked that when she heads for the kitchen, the only one that gets excited is the dog.
Pat Schroeder was an influential woman , a savvy member of the House Armed Services Committee and the congresswoman behind legislation crucial to women and children. But she was also a wife and mother, and one who took birthday parties as seriously as she did her votes. Jim once found a business card for Joe the Balloon Man in Pat’s purse, and on the back, written in his own hand, was Shimon Peres’ private phone number.
Sandra Dallas is a Denver novelist who writes regularly about new regional nonfiction.
