WHEN Condoleezza Rice was ten years old, her parents took her on a trip to Washington, D.C. For John and Angelena Rice, whom Condoleezza has described as “education evangelists,” the nation’s capital was the ultimate vacation destination—so much history to discover, so many museums to explore, so much to inspire a young mind. Strolling along Pennsylvania Avenue, they stopped to peer through the gate in front of the White House. Condoleezza stared quietly at the pillared façade. The trio stood in silence until the girl turned to her father and said, “Daddy, I’m barred out of there now because of the color of my skin. But one day, I’ll be in that house.”
Not only was she a precocious child, but prophetic, too. Twenty-five years later she was working fourteen-hour days as President George H. W. Bush’s top advisor on the Soviet Union, helping write U.S. policy through the unification of Germany and the end of the Cold War. Eleven years after her two-year stint in that administration, she reentered the White House as President George W. Bush’s national security advisor.
During George W.’s presidential campaign, Jay Nordlinger predicted in the National Review that whatever post Condoleezza Rice received in the administration she would be “rock-star big”—a household name. She has not yet appeared on any billboards in Times Square, but her celebrity status is on the rise. This became most evident after September 11, 2001, when she was appointed one of the primary White House spokespeople on the war on terrorism. Her visibility has also been enhanced by ritual appearances on the Sunday Washington talk shows and through lengthy profiles in magazines such as Vogue, George (now defunct), and O: The Oprah Magazine. And in some parts of the country, she has been a star for quite some time. In East Palo Alto, California, for example, where she cofounded an after-school academy for children from underfunded school districts, she is a local hero. And in the field of Soviet studies, her chosen specialty since first hearing a lecture on Stalin as a junior in college, she is a nationally renowned expert and scholar.
Condoleezza Rice has two passions in her life: music and Russia. This book explores her family’s musical roots, which formed both her name and her goal of becoming a concert pianist. That part of her story took a sudden detour in her teen years when she decided she did not have what it takes to enter the very small ranks of the concert world. She made a sharp turn when she heard a charismatic professor (the father of former Secretary of State Madeleine Albright) lecture on the Soviet Union, and entered that oddly familiar and captivating territory, never to turn back.
From her childhood in Birmingham, Alabama, which in the 1950s and 1960s was the most segregated city in the South and a focal point of the Civil Rights movement, to her ascension to one of the most powerful posts in government, Condoleezza Rice’s story is founded on a compelling family legacy. She is a proud daughter of the Rices and the Rays, two lineages devoted to education and achievement. She is also very much her father’s daughter, a preacher’s child devoted to the same causes, solidified with the same strength of character, and supported by the same faith.
This story follows Condi’s journey into the highest ranks of a field dominated by men, in which her colleagues describe her style as firm but friendly. “She is, all agree, an immensely appealing person,” stated the National Review, “poised, gracious, humbly smart, still markedly Southern after all these years in other parts.” Several people interviewed for this book remarked on her exuberance, noting that she is an extremely content person who draws from a deep well. “Condi is one of those happy-go-lucky kinds of people,” said her University of Denver Professor Karen Feste. “She doesn’t have an unhappy side to her; at least I’ve never seen it.” In describing herself, Condi explains the source of her outlook. “I’m a really religious person,” she said, “and I don’t believe that I was put on this earth to be sour, so I’m eternally optimistic about things.” She does not hide her achievements, but at the same time does not overestimate herself. “I think I’m above average,” she said, “but not much more. When you’ve been a professor and provost at Stanford, you know what real genius is. I’ve seen genius, and I’m not it.”
President George W. Bush would probably disagree. His father came to admire Condi during his administration when she worked for his national security advisor Brent Scowcroft, recognizing her formidable intelligence and loyalty. George H. quickly brought her into the Bush fold, treating her like family. She has been George W.’s friend since his first weeks as governor of Texas and his top foreign policy advisor since his presidential campaign. As national security advisor, she is also his top referee in delivering the often powerfully divided opinions of the secretary of defense, secretary of state, and other members of the National Security Council to the president’s desk.
If her life were mapped in sonata form, Condoleezza Rice could well be in the development phase, each theme gathering momentum in an upward arch toward their peak moment. At the pinnacle, her interwoven motifs will burst out in one dramatic, triumphant declaration. To some, this peak lies before her as first woman president of the United States. Others envision her as governor of California or as a U.S. senator from that state. But for now, she is one of the president’s top advisors and closest confidants, whether they are in the White House, at Camp David, or at the Bush ranch in Crawford, Texas.