Nancy Pelosi, liberated and loving it
"It’s just the time, and that’s it. Upward and onward,” Pelosi said of the end of her leadership role.
Published: 03:01 PM,Jan 25,2023 | EDITED : 06:01 PM,Jan 25,2023
It’s not a pretty sight when pols lose power. They wilt. They crumple. They cling to the vestiges. They mourn their vanished entourage and perks. How can their day in the sun be over? One minute, they’re running the world, and the next, they’re in the room where it doesn’t happen.
Donald Trump was so freaked out at losing power that he was willing to destroy the country to keep it.
I went to lunch with Nancy Pelosi at the Four Seasons to find out how she was faring now that she has gone from being one of the most powerful women in the world — second in line to the presidency — and one of the most formidable speakers in American history to a mere House backbencher.
I was expecting King Lear, howling at the storm, but I found Gene Kelly, singing in the rain. Pelosi was not crying in her soup. She was basking as she scarfed down French fries, a truffle-butter roll and chocolate-covered macadamia nuts — all before the main course. She was literally in the pink, ablaze in a hot-pink pantsuit and matching Jimmy Choo stilettos, shooting the breeze about Broadway, music and sports. Showing off her 4-inch heels, the 82-year-old said, “I highly recommend suede because it’s like a bedroom slipper.”
Fans dropped by our booth to thank Pelosi, and women in the restaurant gave me thumbs-ups, simply because I was sitting with her.
“I wonder, Maureen, girl to girl, I keep thinking I should feel a little more, I don’t know,” she hesitated, looking for the right word. Over the course of our conversation, she said the word was “regretful,” and she thought about it in church and during morning and night prayers, but she just wasn’t feeling it. “It’s just the time, and that’s it. Upward and onward. I’m thrilled with the transition. I think it was beautiful.”
Her daughter Alexandra Pelosi, a documentary film-maker, assured me that it’s not an act. “I can tell you, in my 52 years of being alive on this Earth, I have never had the kind of weekend I’m having right now,” she said last Sunday. “My mother is at peak happiness. I’ve never seen her like this. It’s like she’s floating through the air. It’s fascinating for my kids because they don’t know this person.
“I think you want to enjoy being old. I don’t think you want to spend your final days fighting with Kevin McCarthy about how many seats you get on Appropriations,” she said.
Before I could broach the humiliating spectacle of McCarthy abasing himself to the loonies on the far-right and being tortured by preposterous Matt Gaetz, Nancy Pelosi brought up her successor.
She looked at me, her brown eyes widening, and said, “I’m sad for Kevin that he couldn’t do that in a way that brought a little more dignity to the House of Representatives. It’s strange.” She added, “What happened was inexplicable.”
The woman is, as her friend and fellow California lawmaker Anna Eshoo said, “satin and steel.” I tried to keep a straight face at Pelosi’s satiny solicitude. She had, after all, called the Jello-spined McCarthy “a moron” in 2021 after he criticised the Capitol physician’s mask mandate.
I dryly asked the devout Catholic if she was praying for McCarthy, the way she once prayed for her nemesis Trump.
“Yeah, I was, because I was praying for the House,” she said. “It was just stunning that he wouldn’t be ready. You know what your challenges are. Just be ready. What they were seeing, whether they realised or not, was an incredible shrinking speakership.
“Really, in order to even honour — ‘honour’ isn’t the word — in order to recognise some of the requests that were being made, you have to have the leverage to get the job done. They were undoing his ability to do what they were asking him to do. That was most unfortunate. I don’t want to see the job turn into something else. It has to be the speakership.”
Did she give McCarthy any advice?
Yes, she said; before the first vote, when he seemed confident, she told him, “Get it done.”
But for four long days — days in which McCarthy was brought low by the ugly forces he had helped unleash — he couldn’t get it done.
“Well,” she observed, popping another chocolate in her mouth, “you do have to know how to count.”
I asked Pelosi to compare working with President Barack Obama and President Joe Biden.
They were both “Senate-centric,” she said, but “they connected with the American people in different ways.”
“Obama in a more Obama-esque way” — here she waved her hand over her head — “and Joe in a real regular-Joe way” — here she waved her hand over her heart. “Both of them are quite wonderful. I always say to people, ‘You have to know your ‘why.’ Why do you think you should be the one? What is your vision?’ And you have to know your ‘what’ — how to get it done.’ They’re both good at that.” In the case of Obama’s signature health care plan, it required all Pelosi’s legislative legerdemain to provide the “what” to his ”why” and power it into law.
Even Pelosi’s old sparring partners have bowed before her mastery of politics. She was regarded by many on the Hill as an Armani dilettante when she arrived in Congress in 1987, an affluent San Francisco housewife with a frozen smile, a well-connected daughter of a former Baltimore congressman and mayor. But she is finishing up her career as “one tough woman,” as former Speaker John Boehner told me. He calls the first Madam Speaker the best speaker of the modern era; he even cried at her portrait-unveiling at the Capitol last month.
She knew how to raise money and get her candidates elected, he said, and “she held her caucus together in an unbelievable fashion.” He added, “When push came to shove, she just whipped them in line. I don’t have a mean bone in my body. All right? I just don’t. She does.” He chuckled with admiration for his old adversary.
Abigail Spanberger, a Democratic lawmaker from Virginia, saw the steely side of Pelosi after she co-sponsored legislation to bar current members of Congress and their families from trading individual stocks. Spanberger claimed that Pelosi stalled until the bill was moribund. (It has now been reintroduced.) Pelosi — whose husband, Paul, holds a fortune in stock — argued that lawmakers should be able to participate in the free-market economy.
Eshoo recalled the time in 2019 that Nancy Pelosi (in an interview with me) brushed back AOC and the Squad, saying that they might rule on Twitter, but in the House, “They’re four people, and that’s how many votes they got.”
The part of Alexandra Pelosi’s HBO documentary about her mother that got the most attention was film from Jan 6, when the speaker said about Trump, moments before the mob in the hallways screamed for her blood, “If he comes, I’m going to punch him out.” It was a raw moment for Nancy Pelosi, described by Eshoo as “a lady with both an inner and an outer refinement about her.”
Nancy and Alexandra Pelosi say they’re not sure whether she actually would have thrown a hay-maker if he had invaded her turf. “Perhaps we’ll never know,” Alexandra Pelosi said. As speaker, Nancy Pelosi did offer a master class — with a fiery orange coat, wagging finger, dramatic ripping and sarcastic clapping — in how a woman could spar with Trump. His nickname for her, “Nervous Nancy,” did not hit the mark because, as Eshoo said, at critical moments, “she never blinked or had a white knuckle.”
Alexandra Pelosi agreed: “I’ve never seen her crack. It’s in her DNA. She doesn’t cry. She doesn’t whine. She doesn’t throw tantrums. Her motto is, as the Marines say, ‘Embrace the suck.’”
I asked Nancy Pelosi how the savage attack on her husband of nearly 60 years had affected her decision to step down. The beating with a hammer by a QAnon believer left him looking like Frankenstein under his dashing hat, Alexandra Pelosi said, and with an incapacitated hand that the doctors thought he might lose. His daughter said he has handled it gracefully because he’s “a really cool cat.”
“I was probably going to go anyway,” Nancy Pelosi said. But, she added, “say we won by 20 votes and it was a big thing, I might have stayed. It’s true that I had two thoughts in mind when I went to the floor: to stay or not to stay. It was time to move on.”
She said that in 2016, “if Hillary had won, I could have left. But I was not going to let Donald Trump have his way with the government.” She was also irritated that she was constantly asked if she was too old for the job when Mitch McConnell, who’s about the same age, wasn’t.
She said that she believed the Democrats could have held on to the House in November if top New York pols had realised that the key issue in that state was crime.
“That is an issue that had to be dealt with early on, not 10 days before the election,” Pelosi said, adding about New York Gov Kathy Hochul, “The governor didn’t realise soon enough where the trouble was.”
As we left the Four Seasons, Pelosi showed me a turquoise ring she was wearing given to her by Afghan female artisans and said she “would like to see Congress be a stronger voice for women in the world.” She also said she would like to help the women in Congress in any way she could.
Won’t she still be a celebrity, even without her old title, big staff and wide balcony?
“I was a woman of great power, and now I’ll be a woman of great influence,” she said. “Whatever that happens to be.” -- The New York Times
Maureen Dowd
(A New York Times Op-Ed columnist, writes about American politics, popular culture and international affairs)
Donald Trump was so freaked out at losing power that he was willing to destroy the country to keep it.
I went to lunch with Nancy Pelosi at the Four Seasons to find out how she was faring now that she has gone from being one of the most powerful women in the world — second in line to the presidency — and one of the most formidable speakers in American history to a mere House backbencher.
I was expecting King Lear, howling at the storm, but I found Gene Kelly, singing in the rain. Pelosi was not crying in her soup. She was basking as she scarfed down French fries, a truffle-butter roll and chocolate-covered macadamia nuts — all before the main course. She was literally in the pink, ablaze in a hot-pink pantsuit and matching Jimmy Choo stilettos, shooting the breeze about Broadway, music and sports. Showing off her 4-inch heels, the 82-year-old said, “I highly recommend suede because it’s like a bedroom slipper.”
Fans dropped by our booth to thank Pelosi, and women in the restaurant gave me thumbs-ups, simply because I was sitting with her.
“I wonder, Maureen, girl to girl, I keep thinking I should feel a little more, I don’t know,” she hesitated, looking for the right word. Over the course of our conversation, she said the word was “regretful,” and she thought about it in church and during morning and night prayers, but she just wasn’t feeling it. “It’s just the time, and that’s it. Upward and onward. I’m thrilled with the transition. I think it was beautiful.”
Her daughter Alexandra Pelosi, a documentary film-maker, assured me that it’s not an act. “I can tell you, in my 52 years of being alive on this Earth, I have never had the kind of weekend I’m having right now,” she said last Sunday. “My mother is at peak happiness. I’ve never seen her like this. It’s like she’s floating through the air. It’s fascinating for my kids because they don’t know this person.
“I think you want to enjoy being old. I don’t think you want to spend your final days fighting with Kevin McCarthy about how many seats you get on Appropriations,” she said.
Before I could broach the humiliating spectacle of McCarthy abasing himself to the loonies on the far-right and being tortured by preposterous Matt Gaetz, Nancy Pelosi brought up her successor.
She looked at me, her brown eyes widening, and said, “I’m sad for Kevin that he couldn’t do that in a way that brought a little more dignity to the House of Representatives. It’s strange.” She added, “What happened was inexplicable.”
The woman is, as her friend and fellow California lawmaker Anna Eshoo said, “satin and steel.” I tried to keep a straight face at Pelosi’s satiny solicitude. She had, after all, called the Jello-spined McCarthy “a moron” in 2021 after he criticised the Capitol physician’s mask mandate.
I dryly asked the devout Catholic if she was praying for McCarthy, the way she once prayed for her nemesis Trump.
“Yeah, I was, because I was praying for the House,” she said. “It was just stunning that he wouldn’t be ready. You know what your challenges are. Just be ready. What they were seeing, whether they realised or not, was an incredible shrinking speakership.
“Really, in order to even honour — ‘honour’ isn’t the word — in order to recognise some of the requests that were being made, you have to have the leverage to get the job done. They were undoing his ability to do what they were asking him to do. That was most unfortunate. I don’t want to see the job turn into something else. It has to be the speakership.”
Did she give McCarthy any advice?
Yes, she said; before the first vote, when he seemed confident, she told him, “Get it done.”
But for four long days — days in which McCarthy was brought low by the ugly forces he had helped unleash — he couldn’t get it done.
“Well,” she observed, popping another chocolate in her mouth, “you do have to know how to count.”
I asked Pelosi to compare working with President Barack Obama and President Joe Biden.
They were both “Senate-centric,” she said, but “they connected with the American people in different ways.”
“Obama in a more Obama-esque way” — here she waved her hand over her head — “and Joe in a real regular-Joe way” — here she waved her hand over her heart. “Both of them are quite wonderful. I always say to people, ‘You have to know your ‘why.’ Why do you think you should be the one? What is your vision?’ And you have to know your ‘what’ — how to get it done.’ They’re both good at that.” In the case of Obama’s signature health care plan, it required all Pelosi’s legislative legerdemain to provide the “what” to his ”why” and power it into law.
Even Pelosi’s old sparring partners have bowed before her mastery of politics. She was regarded by many on the Hill as an Armani dilettante when she arrived in Congress in 1987, an affluent San Francisco housewife with a frozen smile, a well-connected daughter of a former Baltimore congressman and mayor. But she is finishing up her career as “one tough woman,” as former Speaker John Boehner told me. He calls the first Madam Speaker the best speaker of the modern era; he even cried at her portrait-unveiling at the Capitol last month.
She knew how to raise money and get her candidates elected, he said, and “she held her caucus together in an unbelievable fashion.” He added, “When push came to shove, she just whipped them in line. I don’t have a mean bone in my body. All right? I just don’t. She does.” He chuckled with admiration for his old adversary.
Abigail Spanberger, a Democratic lawmaker from Virginia, saw the steely side of Pelosi after she co-sponsored legislation to bar current members of Congress and their families from trading individual stocks. Spanberger claimed that Pelosi stalled until the bill was moribund. (It has now been reintroduced.) Pelosi — whose husband, Paul, holds a fortune in stock — argued that lawmakers should be able to participate in the free-market economy.
Eshoo recalled the time in 2019 that Nancy Pelosi (in an interview with me) brushed back AOC and the Squad, saying that they might rule on Twitter, but in the House, “They’re four people, and that’s how many votes they got.”
The part of Alexandra Pelosi’s HBO documentary about her mother that got the most attention was film from Jan 6, when the speaker said about Trump, moments before the mob in the hallways screamed for her blood, “If he comes, I’m going to punch him out.” It was a raw moment for Nancy Pelosi, described by Eshoo as “a lady with both an inner and an outer refinement about her.”
Nancy and Alexandra Pelosi say they’re not sure whether she actually would have thrown a hay-maker if he had invaded her turf. “Perhaps we’ll never know,” Alexandra Pelosi said. As speaker, Nancy Pelosi did offer a master class — with a fiery orange coat, wagging finger, dramatic ripping and sarcastic clapping — in how a woman could spar with Trump. His nickname for her, “Nervous Nancy,” did not hit the mark because, as Eshoo said, at critical moments, “she never blinked or had a white knuckle.”
Alexandra Pelosi agreed: “I’ve never seen her crack. It’s in her DNA. She doesn’t cry. She doesn’t whine. She doesn’t throw tantrums. Her motto is, as the Marines say, ‘Embrace the suck.’”
I asked Nancy Pelosi how the savage attack on her husband of nearly 60 years had affected her decision to step down. The beating with a hammer by a QAnon believer left him looking like Frankenstein under his dashing hat, Alexandra Pelosi said, and with an incapacitated hand that the doctors thought he might lose. His daughter said he has handled it gracefully because he’s “a really cool cat.”
“I was probably going to go anyway,” Nancy Pelosi said. But, she added, “say we won by 20 votes and it was a big thing, I might have stayed. It’s true that I had two thoughts in mind when I went to the floor: to stay or not to stay. It was time to move on.”
She said that in 2016, “if Hillary had won, I could have left. But I was not going to let Donald Trump have his way with the government.” She was also irritated that she was constantly asked if she was too old for the job when Mitch McConnell, who’s about the same age, wasn’t.
She said that she believed the Democrats could have held on to the House in November if top New York pols had realised that the key issue in that state was crime.
“That is an issue that had to be dealt with early on, not 10 days before the election,” Pelosi said, adding about New York Gov Kathy Hochul, “The governor didn’t realise soon enough where the trouble was.”
As we left the Four Seasons, Pelosi showed me a turquoise ring she was wearing given to her by Afghan female artisans and said she “would like to see Congress be a stronger voice for women in the world.” She also said she would like to help the women in Congress in any way she could.
Won’t she still be a celebrity, even without her old title, big staff and wide balcony?
“I was a woman of great power, and now I’ll be a woman of great influence,” she said. “Whatever that happens to be.” -- The New York Times
Maureen Dowd
(A New York Times Op-Ed columnist, writes about American politics, popular culture and international affairs)