Confrontation of The Superwives

By Margot Hornblower

Piqued at Raisa Gorbachev's one-woman triumph at the Reykjavik summit, Nancy Reagan was known to consider the Soviet First Lady imperious and dogmatic. Preparations for the Washington summit seemed to confirm that impression. Raisa had taken her time accepting an invitation to tea, insisting that the hour be changed. She was keeping her schedule a mystery, confounding efforts to plan ahead. So when the Soviets asked to bring five extra guests to Tuesday's state dinner, the word quickly came back: forget it.

But if the East Wing of the White House was waging cold war while the West Wing celebrated a thaw, the rest of Washington found Raisa Maximovna Gorbachev dazzling. Vivacious and voluble, she beamed her strobe-light smile, melting the eye glaze of receiving lines. She asked questions and delivered on-the- spot sermons and exhortations. She cracked jokes. And, rivaling her husband, she tamed the media like the tiger handler at the Gorky Park circus: with flourishes, grins and bows to the audience.

The U.S. was "lovely," announced the onetime lecturer on Marxist-Leninist philosophy at Moscow State University. At the National Gallery, when employees gathered to applaud her, she stopped to chat, noting that she was "glad to see so many of the staff are women." On a White House tour, she peppered Nancy Reagan with queries: Was that a 19th century chandelier? Did Jefferson live here? And, by the way, when was the White House built? The First Lady, already irritated by her visitor's magnetic gravitation toward the television cameras, was stumped. An assistant curator came to the rescue with dates: between 1792 and 1800. "I'm not much help," Nancy Reagan confessed, in obvious exasperation.

The tour was an almost comical confrontation of the two superwives, each ; fighting to get her way with elaborate politesse. But as much as Nancy Reagan tugged at Raisa Gorbachev's elbow, trying to steer the diminutive (5 ft. 3 in.) Russian away from the cordoned-off journalists, she was outmaneuvered. A reporter asked Raisa whether she would be meeting ordinary Americans. Her flattering reply: "Meeting you, for me, is meeting Americans. This time our visit is too short. I hope next time will be longer." At one point she launched into a discussion of modern life: "In our age, all of us have to work. We have professional duties. We have family duties as well as social duties. A person in the 20th century is at a loss to distribute his or her time."

Repeatedly, Nancy Reagan was asked about frosty relations. "I've answered that five times," she snapped and turned deliberately toward Raisa Gorbachev. Coolly correct, Raisa added, "Everything is all right. Mrs. Reagan gave the answer. She is the hostess, and that was her word." Another reporter asked if Raisa would like to live in the White House. Perhaps unaware that the Reagans' living quarters are upstairs, Raisa glanced at her opulent surroundings. "This is an official residence," she said. "I would say, humanly speaking, that a human being would like to live in a regular house." Smiling, she added, "This is a museum of American history."

After the visit, East Wing aides snickered at the black dress with rhinestone belt buckle that Raisa had worn to the late-morning coffee. "A bit cocktailish, don't you think?" one said. White House officials were also miffed that Raisa chose to set up a colloquy with prominent women at the home of Democratic Fund Raiser Pamela Harriman. Among the guests: Supreme Court Justice Sandra Day O'Connor, University of Chicago President Hanna Gray, Publisher Katharine Graham and Senators Barbara Mikulski and Nancy Kassebaum. Nonetheless, by the end of the summit, official patch-up stories were issuing from the White House. Raisa, it was said, had asked Nancy at the Soviets' Thursday dinner, "What is this about our not liking each other?" The First Lady described her Soviet counterpart as puzzled. "Such stories are so trivial and silly," Nancy Reagan said.

If the U.S. media made much of the tiff, Raisa's activities were given more sober coverage in the Soviet Union, where she is referred to as "Gorbachev's spouse." Despite recent criticism that Raisa has assumed too visible a role, Soviet television viewers were treated to a snippet of her singing Moscow Nights at the state dinner. TASS, the state news agency, published stories about her National Gallery visit and her meeting with a friendly group of Armenians at the Soviet embassy.

By chance, the Armenian gathering gave Raisa an opportunity to show off her unflappability. Informed of the unauthorized presence of a TIME correspondent, Raisa purred, "There is nothing to be concerned about. The American and Soviet press should work together to build peace." She put her arm around the correspondent and smiled as her personal photographer took their picture.

Raisa's campaign appearances revealed a convergence of the Gorbachev style: each talking but rarely listening, each lecturing and posturing, while gushing charm. "This is the first person I've ever met who talks more than I do," marveled Barbara Mikulski after her encounter with Raisa. So what's new in politics?

With reporting by Nancy Traver/Washington