Margaret and Me: An American Journalist Abroad

Late one night in the late '80s, I spoke a line to a producer in the CBS News bureau in London: "Margaret Thatcher is the leading lady on the world stage, playing opposite Ronald Reagan and Mikhail Gorbachev." It aired in the correspondent's story on the "CBS Evening News." In a way, I cut my teeth on the late Iron Lady.

As a young American journalist, I took Margaret Thatcher personally. At work, she was the constant — brilliantly quick under fire with her velvet voice in Parliament. She went out with me socially, as well. Sunday lunches in Northwest London wouldn't have been the same without her. I got smoke blown in my face over the prime minister. It perplexed me that the English liked her so little.

"She's a dreadful woman, but an amazing prime minister."

That was roughly the chorus I heard about the woman who led the English from their winter of discontent into a summer of prosperity. She confronted the union bosses and drove down taxes, unemployment and inflation. Yet Britain seemed squeamish about its own success under Thatcher.

Finding a British person who liked her — and would say so — became a quest. And so I penetrated the British psyche. That was a good thing, since I was married to a Londoner.

Other Americans abroad admired her, but that didn't count. I was in search of a Brit. I tried London taxi drivers, hearing, "She's all right at running the country, but I wouldn't want her over to my house." The ultimate British cut.

Then I turned to teachers, doctors, shop assistants, lawyers, students — no such luck. Journalists proved a fallow field for my quest; in fact, they were her harshest critics. A generation of authors and intellectuals spurned her. Liking Thatcher would be tantamount to social suicide in Britain — but why?

The famed British sense of fairness felt wronged by her, seeing her as tearing down the welfare state that was Britain's pride and glory.

As I came to see, she was too sure of herself for a nation known for reserve and understatement. Her stature as a stateswoman, the first Western leader to say she could "do business with Mr. Gorbachev," did not warm her image at the end of the day.

Her sheer force of personality was perhaps harder to take in female form. Then there was the class thing; to some Brits, the grande dame of politics would never be more than a Grantham grocer's daughter. She dared to rise above her station in a nation where class still counts — less than it used to, thanks to her.

Don't get me wrong: The British people had a healthy respect and admiration for Thatcher. She was right on point and right on time. They just didn't like her. Fair enough.

Just as I came to understand the British psyche on my quest, so did I gain a sharper take on our American traits. Her best friend, Reagan, was the perfect counterpoint to Thatcher, a sunny, affable and popular leader given to gaffes she'd rather die than make. We Americans like to like our leaders, even if we don't think they're bright and find their policies flawed. Heck, I was a liberal who liked Reagan.

Liking to like our presidents became consequential when it came to George W. Bush's narrow win over Al Gore in 2000. A media question defined their differences: Who would you rather have a beer with? The answer was Bush, a tiebreaker.

Personal approval still matters. Remember when Barack Obama said coolly to Hillary Clinton in a 2008 debate, "You're likeable enough, Hillary." (She was not a global rock star at the time.)

So I've come around to the British way of doing business: Go with the one you respect more, not the one you like better. But on our side of the Atlantic, Clinton may have to win on both counts in 2016.

To find out more about Jamie Stiehm, and read features by other Creators writers and cartoonists, visit www.creators.com.

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