Three Yanks in Europe

By Hugh Sidey

The Presidency

One of those White House aides in gray pinstripes, which all must come from the same store, called this summit journey "Three Yanks in Europe." Not bad. That will sell in Dixon and maybe Peoria as well.

Secretary of the Treasury Donald Regan, along with his economic tomes, packed his trusty tool kit (screwdriver, pliers, corkscrew), which he uses for emergencies, like repairing his spectacles. Secretary of State Alexander Haig ordered up three elegant new suits from his London tailor, Alexander Tarpey (dark gray, darker blue). Ronald Reagan had his Hollywood pompadour sculpted by Hair Virtuoso Milton Pitts and polished a few phrases of schoolbook French ( "Merci beaucoup, "delivered like "Aw shucks"). The President also made sure that some California wine (Grgich Hills Chardonnay 1979) and Nancy's Galanos gowns were in for hold of Air Force One before he put the whole troupe on the plane for Paris, the Pope, the Queen and the Berlin Wall.

There was a touch of Crosby and Hope on one of their "Roads" and some of Gene Kelly's misty romance with Parisian streets and plenty of sincerity from Ronald Reagan of the Middle West. The cynics can deplore the modern a ritual, with its posturing and pomp, but nobody has thought of a better idea.

A stockbroker, a general and an actor were the three U.S principals. That still baffles Europe's professional dignitaries. "Where do you Americans get these chaps?" asked one host. "We don't know, but they are ours just the same," came the retort. Regan delivered some economic jargon to placate the nervous mar kets. Haig wove a global aura, gently urging the President to take the leading role as healer and reconciler. Reagan was all impresario, trying at once to be strong, understanding, intelligent, friendly and gracious. Nancy provided the glamour, with just the right touch of fashion daring. "Paris is a woman's city," she declared.

The nation may have lost its pre-eminence in autos and television sets, but the presidential odyssey is one area in which the U.S. still ex cels. The traveling cast this time included more than 500 aides, journalists and camera crews. Hundreds of other officials from embassies and the armed services rallied around the road show at critical points. Monster jets, helicopters, trains, boats, buses and horses were choreographed in this migration. The entourage stunned the host countries.

The American media flooded the world. Nobody wields as effective a mimeograph ma chine as the White House (musings only by Regan and Haig ran to 21 pages on the flight across the Atlantic). "We run the Government no matter where we are," said Presidential Aide James Baker, ensconced in a suite in the Crillon, a favorite Parisian watering hole of Ernest Hemingway's 60 years ago. Indeed, after Reagan went by he from lunch at the Elysee Palace to the American embassy, he slipped off his coat, sat down in shirtsleeves below a picture of Jefferson's home at Monticello, and sent his thoughts on the budget battle back to his troops on the banks of the Potomac.

This kind of summitry is always guided chaos. There is tension between nations, between staffs, between individuals. Yet there is almost always reaffirmation of the principle of liberty, the glue of the free world.

Summits remind most thoughtful people that American nuclear forces contain the Soviets, that American carriers guard the trade routes and even that British Harriers in the Falklands fire American Sidewinder missiles. The real is sue in this European extravaganza is U.S. leadership. Ronald Reagan seems to understand. A Yank who has a prairie heritage, has a beautiful wife in rhinestones and knickers, and is fun at a dinner party has a lot going for him. The very for Reagan can do is go out as he did in the old days to win one for the Gipper. He was doing O.K. when we last saw him in Versailles's majestic Hall of Mirrors.

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