Remarkably, the senior Bush hopped from one job to the next, most of them political patronage jobs. After his loss to Bentsen, George H.W. Bush was given a booby prize by President Nixon - the UN ambassadorship. Two years later, in 1973, he became chairman of the Republican National Committee, and that's where he met Jennifer Fitzgerald. Fitzgerald was his secretary.
W. at the time was himself in a tailspin, both professionally and personally. He didn't find his work particularly fulfilling, and he hadn't met a woman with whom yet he wanted to settle down and start a family.
To complicate his thinking, he was starting to hear rumors about his father stepping out on his mother, and he wasn't sure what to make of any of it. The senior Bush had brought Fitzgerald, a young divorcee, to China to help run the U.S. Liaison Office in Beijing. Though the senior Bush's wife, Barbara, was often with him in China, there were periods when she was inabsentia, and oftentimes back in the states.
George W. Bush didn't want to believe his father was having an affair. But at the same time he couldn't ignore the growing background chatter about his father and Jennifer Fitzgerald. W. believed his mother had never gotten over the loss from leukemia of her daughter Robin and that the only thing that could or would be more devastating to her would be believing - or even hearing - that her husband wasn't being faithful to her.
W. never brought up the subject with his mother, nor did he ever confront his father with the question - except one time.
By the late summer of 1976, George H.W. Bush had been in his latest patronage job - director of the Central Intelligence Agency - nearly six months. He was telling everyone how much he liked the job but, of course, there was only one job he really wanted - to be president of the United States.
W. approached his father on the rocky promontory, not saying anything.
"Where you been?" George H.W. Bush, the country's CIA director, asked his son. "Shudda come fishin' with us. Some nice blues out there."
"I was down at Allison's," W. replied. "I need to talk to you."
Rarely did W. make such a serious overture to his father. Usually it was his father who was saying to his son that he had to talk.
As he got near his father, he said, "I'm really worried about something Pops."
"What's wrong," the elder Bush asked.
"Dad, I'm sick over all this talk about some woman," W. said.
"Huh?" his father asked.
"This woman, what's her name, Jennifer something." W. said.
His father looked at him sternly. "You've been drinking," George H.W. Bush said to his son, avoiding the Jennifer question.
"Doesn't matter what I've been doing," W. said. "I wanna know."
"You wanna know what, Junior?" his father asked, knowing full-well that the 'Junior" moniker would piss off his eldest son, who in fact wasn't a junior, since his middle initial wasn't his father's.
"I wanna know who Jennifer is?" W. persisted.
"You show some respect," his father said. "Get off it."
"Get off what?" W. asked, getting in his father's face. At that point, W. took a swing at his father. He grazed his father's right cheek and fell on the rocks. "You asshole," W. shouted at his father.
George H.W. Bush knew this was not the place to debate with his drunken so whether he was having an affair. True or not, he wasn't going to dignify the allegation contained in his son's grilling. Moreover, the elder Bush wanted this discussion to end before anyone else got involved. He continued on to the boat shed, leaving his son on the ground, ignoring his obscenity-laced tirade against the nation's CIA director.
As George H.W. Bush walked away, a Secret-Service agent, who was removing seat cushions from the boat, ran over. "Can we help, sir?" the agent, Ray Button, asked the elder Bush.
"Nah, no big deal," the elder Bush said. "Junior's been drinking. Been there, done that. Let him sleep it off."
By that time, W. had regained his footing. He was now following his father to the boat shed. "So is it true or isn't it?" W asked, his voice rising.
"George, get off my ass," his father told his son. "You've got a problem, not me, boy, and his name is Jim Beam."
"Fuck you," W. said. "I'm going in to see Mummsy."