Jenny Sanford has reinvented first lady's role

Jenny Sanford has a very quick meeting with her husband and his speechwriter Joel Sawyer in the governor's office. (Owen Riley Jr./Staff) e-mail this story Related Photo gallery • A day in the life of the first lady

The governor's communications director, his spokesman and his speech-writer were in an intense conversation with an animated Sanford, who paced a room filled with stacks of newspapers, cluttered desks, and a closed-circuit TV with a piece of paper taped to it that read, "THIS IS OUR TIME TO LEAD."

It wasn't Gov. Mark Sanford at the center of this controversy. He was having lunch in Fort Mill with a business executive, talking about the company's expansion plans.

It was his wife, first lady Jenny Sanford, who was calling the shots.

Meanwhile, just down the hall, a group of women, most of them in their 60s or better and wearing their Sunday finest, were gathering, oblivious to the political gamesmanship behind the security checkpoint that separates the Governor's Office from the rest of the world.

They've come from across the state to witness the presentation of the South Carolina Mother of the Year award.

And without missing a beat, the first lady steps out of the bull session and into the circle of grandmotherly Southern ladies, all smiles and how-do-you-do.

It's all part of the job for this high-energy Wall Street executive turned governor's wife who is redefining the role of first lady of South Carolina.

She works out of a tiny cubicle designed for an intern, has no job title other than first lady, leaves at 2:30 on most afternoons to pick up her kids at school and gets paid nothing for the job. But it doesn't take long to see that if she's not the engineer, Jenny Sanford is the one who makes the trains run on time around here.

After Fred Carter left the job of chief of staff in December, the governor named two staffers as interim co-chiefs of staff — and the first lady took on her office job.

"To date, that has remained and seems to be working fine," Mrs. Sanford said between reading e-mails and trying to learn to use a new Nokia cell phone. "So for all intents and purposes, until or unless that right chief of staff person shows up, we will continue with this situation we have right now."

The fact that the first lady is playing a substantive role in the administration may raise eyebrows, reminiscent of Hillary Clinton, a politically very different first lady, said Clemson University political scientist Bruce Ransom.

But he said, "If it works, it works."

Even without a chief of staff title, though, the first lady is likely to wield more power than others in a staff of unelected people who "pretty much run state government," said Ransom, a former senior policy adviser to the governor of New Jersey.

"I would imagine, without any question, that regardless of what titles others may hold, they don't lose sight of the fact that she's the governor's wife," he said.

Restless energy

In an office led by a governor noted for his laid-back style, Jenny Sanford is a jolt of rapid-fire talking and high-heels walking with a whirlwind management style that wastes not a second.

She gets up at 5:30 every morning and does an exercise routine that includes aerobics and Pilates, a form of stretching exercise that she says has helped with back problems she suffered. She gets the kids off to school and arrives at the Statehouse by 8:30 for the daily staff meeting.

After the staff meeting one day last week, she prepped a staff member for the governor's Cabinet meeting and sat in on part of it.

Before the morning was over she had done an interview with The Greenville News; approved a press release quoting the governor urging the Senate to pass his Fiscal Discipline Plan; discussed with the governor's speechwriter details of the mountains-to-the-sea bike ride the first family plans in May to encourage fitness; fielded questions from a group of Girl Scouts who had come to the Statehouse to serve as pages — and held a 30-second tete-a-tete in her cubicle with the governor on contacting a former New York banker and a former chief financial officer for Macy's who want to help with a review of the state's finances.

"It's no knock on a traditional first lady role," the governor said as he whisked through the intern area on his way to his meeting in Fort Mill. "It's just that God gives every one of us different talents, and I think that one of her talents ... is that she has a remarkable eye for detail. That eye for detail has consistently shown itself to be of great help to me in my political work."

Mrs. Sanford, who managed her husband's campaigns for Congress and governor, says later that what was going on in the strategy session with the governor's PR staff isn't ready to be made public.

"We were talking about legislation, things that just happened on the floor, how we should react, as in how Mark should react, what should we do going forward," she explains in staccato tones out in the hallway.

Changing roles

She was thrust into a nontraditional role not of her own choosing immediately upon moving into the Governor's Mansion. The mansion, which traditionally has been the first lady's domain, was in dire financial straits.

Mrs. Sanford, the granddaughter of the founder of the company that makes Skil saws, went to work cutting the budget, letting go of 40 percent of the staff and trimming operating expenses in half.

"I haven't had anybody call me or write me and say you should be doing a lot more flashy entertaining," she said.

Then, Carter left the chief of staff position — he had been "on loan" for a year from his job as president of Francis Marion University — and Mrs. Sanford started coming to the office with her husband on a daily basis.

"At that time we also had one big project that Mark had been working on and he just felt overwhelmed with — and that was the putting together of this big budget," she said, holding up a thick blue paper-bound book.

"I do have a financial background," she said.

Her part, she said, was to make sure that the cuts the governor wanted could be justified with hard numbers and supported with detailed background.

"I just basically helped the team here produce this budget," she said.

Perceptions

Legislators, who generally stay out of the wing of the Statehouse occupied by the governor and his staff, said they don't have much firsthand knowledge of what the first lady is doing in the office. But none had anything but good to say about her.

"I think she's taken a more nontraditional role or involvement at that level than recent first ladies have done," said state Sen. Larry Martin, R-Pickens. "But I don't think she's injected herself in any type of policymaking role, or formal policymaking role, that anyone would have any problems with."

House Minority Leader James Smith, D-Columbia, said he has no "direct knowledge" of the situation, "but the perception is that she wields considerable power."

He didn't see that as a problem, though.

"From everything I've heard she's a very bright, very capable individual, and if she can help the governor in his work and by virtue of that, help the state, I think that's a good thing," he said.

Former first lady Mary Wood Beasley said each first lady brings her own unique talents and abilities to the position, adding that "hers are obviously different from mine." Mrs. Beasley spent much of her effort during David Beasley's term, 1995-99, in renovating the Governor's Mansion and trying to raise awareness of women's health issues.

"I don't think it ever would have occurred to David to ask me how to spend the state's money, nor would it have ever occurred to me to ask him how to remodel the Governor's Mansion," she said. But as to Mrs. Sanford, she said, "If that's where her passion is and that's the way they work best together, I think that's great."

A mother first

Jenny Sanford isn't all business, though — even if it appears that way in the office. After a hectic morning last week, she went home to have lunch with her 5-year-old son, Blake. Marshall, 11, Landon, 10, and Bolton, 8, were still in class at Heathwood Hall, a private Episcopal school.

She whistles loudly and shouts, "Blakie!" as she enters the mansion. Blake is upstairs, playing with Ben, a friend from school. He appears at the banister, swings one leg over and seems to be getting ready for a joy slide.

"No, no, no, we're not sliding down there," Mom shouts. Later, she soothes his bumped head with a hug and a kiss after the boys had a minor collision in the hallway.

She makes a quick tour of the kitchen, inspecting the vegetables for tonight's reception before heading for the cooler, where she chooses a Granny Smith apple — her lunch. Blake, taking up a spot in an employee break room, eats more heartily — two hot dogs, a plate of macaroni and cheese and chips. But Mom makes sure he and Ben both get a serving of fruit before they're done.

The boys quickly burn off their lunch outside, playing with Jet, the first family's year-and-a half-old black Lab.

Mrs. Sanford doesn't always make it home for lunch with Blake, but she tries to spend time every afternoon and evening with her boys, she said. Later that day, after an afternoon tea and before a 6 p.m. reception, she and the boys put in an hour and a half at a downtown soup kitchen — a weekly project they've taken on during Lent.

She talks passionately about fitness and health, particularly cancer prevention, an issue close to her heart because of her mother's continuing battle with melanoma. But she acknowledges that her office job has forced her to cut back on speaking engagements on those issues.

"The question you face when you're a first lady is 'Can I make a big difference in a big way about an issue, and if so, how can I do that?' • " she said. "I, for the most part, have chosen — actually fairly cognizantly in this past year — I have chosen not to follow a big issue in a big way, in the traditional First Lady sense."

She may want to go back to being a Wall Street financier someday, she said. But for now, family comes first.

While presiding over the Mother of the Year presentation, she quotes Psalms 127: "Like arrows in the hands of a warrior are sons born in one's youth."

She looks around at the Mother of the Year's children and grandchildren and tells the group, "I am a big believer, and always have been, that there are many ways to leave a legacy. But in God's eyes, the most important one is to leave good children and good grandchildren.

"And if you do that well," she said, "everything else falls in place."