Is There a Second Act for George W. Bush?

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Former President George W. Bush, left, and his wife Laura Bush wave as they depart Andrews Air Force Base, Maryland, Tuesday, Jan. 20, 2009.

Nick Wass / AP

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"Never did a prisoner, released from his chains, feel such relief as I shall on shaking off the shackles of power," declared Thomas Jefferson upon departing the presidency. At that point he could retreat to Monticello, read Plato in Greek, plan and plant his University of Virginia. "I have given up newspapers in exchange for Tacitus and Thucydides," he wrote to John Adams, "and I find myself much the happier."

But it is the rare modern President who retires to his farm and his library, unless by library we mean a multimillion-dollar monument to his vital role in world history. These men are, as President Bush put it in his farewell squash match with the White House press corps, "type A" personalities. "I just can't envision myself, you know, the big straw hat and Hawaiian shirt, sitting on some beach," he said. "Particularly since I quit drinking." So what options beckon a President who is relatively young, healthy and unloved by more of his fellow citizens upon leaving office than any other modern President, including Nixon? (See pictures of George W. Bush.)

Some Presidents have a hard time being instantly shrink-wrapped on Inauguration Day. One minute he is the Leader of the Free World; the next, he's history. "What a great change can come to a man in a matter of moments," the departing Harry Truman told a friend after Dwight Eisenhower's swearing in. Adjusting to a sudden power outage can be a remarkable challenge. Eisenhower had to be taught how to dial the phone. Calvin Coolidge was frustrated that people didn't always realize he was no longer God. "People seem to think the presidential machinery should keep on running," he commented, "even after the power has been turned off."

The standard pursuits for ex-Presidents include writing books, launching foundations, going fishing — and making money. George Washington returned to Mount Vernon to find it in a terrible state. He had to sell off land to make repairs, since eight years away had "despoiled my buildings but also deranged my private affairs." Truman, who had only modest savings and $112.56 a month from his Army pension, had to take out a bank loan in his last couple of weeks in office and could barely afford the stamps to answer all the letters that came in. It wasn't until 1958 that Congress got around to actually voting for a presidential pension and allowance to cover overhead.

One has only to review the recent tally of Bill Clinton's postpresidential earnings to see how things have changed. But making money has seldom been any former President's chief goal; making, or remaking, history is — and it's only partially within a President's power to achieve. Truman now ranks among our top Presidents, but the peaceful end of the Cold War sure helped. Jimmy Carter has climbed from 34% to 64% approval since leaving office, but more out of respect for his humanitarian work than reconsideration of his presidency. "I don't expect many short-term historians to write nice things about me anyway," President Bush told me four years ago, fresh off a winning campaign. "There ought to be a rule where no one writes history about your short term until a generation of those who never voted for you or against you show up, you know what I'm saying?"

But the record suggests there are some things a President can do to boost his long-term value. Of all his predecessors, Bush may have the most to learn from Herbert Hoover, the one to whom, given the current Great Recession, he is increasingly compared. Bush may not be popular, but there aren't crowds calling for him to be hanged or accusing him of raiding Fort Knox before fleeing the country. Hoover left office in an even deeper hole than Bush does, but he had the great advantage of a strong constitution. He lived another 31 years, during which time he was among the greatest champions of children this country has ever known. He drove the growth of Boys Clubs of America and the creation of UNICEF; he led the campaign to get food to millions of civilians who faced a catastrophic famine after World War II. That's what he was good at — fixing things, like the engineer he was. By the time he died, he had tamed his critics and turned up as a regular on Gallup's list of the most admired men. How'd he do it? "I outlived the bastards," he said.

"I've always felt politics would be just a chapter of my life, not my life," Bush told me. He may be content to leave his legacy to history, but if Hoover, Carter and his father are any guides, using his platform to do great and lasting good for a cause he cares about may do as much for his image as any future historian with a polishing cloth.

See Bush's economic mistakes.

See 10 elections that changed America.

See pictures of Barack Obama's Inauguration.