Critics naturally accuse the first daughters of going public to soften the image of their father as "the war president." Probably true, but so what? Jenna Bush could be speaking for all the candidates' children: "I love my dad, and I think I'd regret it if I didn't do this." The twins may be countering that nasty observation of Ann Gerhard, the first lady's unofficial biographer, that Jenna and Barbara were unsympathetic to their parents' burdens and responsibilities, "all noblesse" and no "oblige."
No one ever said it was easy being the son or daughter of a president. Some of the lucky ones found work as presidents of universities, as ambassadors, or joined the military or entered politics. Several have been successful authors; Margaret Truman wrote mystery novels, John Eisenhower wrote military history and Caroline Kennedy wrote scholarly books on the Bill of Rights and the right to privacy. One son of a recent president became president himself, the second son to do it.
In "All the President's Children," Doug Wead catalogs triumphs and tragedies and some trivia in the lives of first children. Alice Lee Roosevelt Longworth, daughter of Teddy Roosevelt, had perhaps the tartest tongue. Calvin Coolidge, she said, looked like he had been weaned on a pickle. The Hoover vacuum cleaner was more exciting than President Hoover. "But, of course, it's electric." She prominently displayed on her sofa a needlepoint pillow stitched with the phrase that characterized her acid wit: "If you haven't anything good to say about anyone, come and sit by me." Said her long-suffering father: "I can either run the country, or attend to Alice, but I cannot possibly do both."
Franklin D. Roosevelt got it right, speaking of his own children, some of whom turned out better than others: "One of the worst things in the world is being the child of a president. It's a terrible life they lead."