First, ladies

By JEANNE MALMGREN

© St. Petersburg Times, published October 28, 1998

IAMI -- Columba Bush is trying to entertain visitors in her small, formal living room, but an insistent black Lab keeps demanding attention.

"Oh, Marvin," Bush murmurs, stroking the dog's head. "Pobrecito." (Poor little thing.)

As polite chit-chat continues, the dog wanders away. A minute later, there's a loud crash from the kitchen. Bush goes to investigate.

The kitchen floor is strewn with garbage. Marvin slinks away. Instantly, Bush is on her knees, scooping up the mess.

"Don't look!" she says, laughing.

Housework is a welcome break these days for Columba Bush, wife of gubernatorial candidate Jeb Bush and daughter-in-law of former president George Bush.

Notoriously shy, Columba has kept a low profile throughout her husband's two campaigns for governor, in 1994 and now. But with Jeb leading the polls by a healthy margin, Columba, 45, seems to be relaxing into her role of politician's wife.

After an interview earlier this month at Bush-Brogan campaign headquarters in Miami -- the standard one-hour meeting offered to all media -- she agreed to let the St. Petersburg Times visit her at home.

Jeb Bush may have made millions in real estate, but it doesn't show in his own house. The Bushes live in Pinecrest, a neighborhood of modest, '70s-style ranch homes just off U.S. 1 in Kendall, a few blocks from Parrot Jungle. Their lot is large, almost an acre, with a pool in back. The house is sprawling but could hardly be called opulent.

Columba Bush barely reaches her husband’s shoulder when they stand side-by-side. Here they listen to Barbara Bush speak at a reception at the St. Petersburg Hilton, following the gubernatorial debate Oct. 20. [Times photo: Pam Royal]

Columba's navy blue Jeep Cherokee sits in the driveway. Their carport was blown away by Hurricane Andrew and they haven't replaced it. A portable canvas shades the cars.

Inside, furnishings are simple: a Colonial dining set that belonged to Jeb's grandparents; an upright piano and a few antiques in the living room, including a mahogany trunk that was Barbara Bush's toy chest when she was a child.

Shining down from the wall is a large, gold-framed icon of the Virgin of Guadalupe.

Off the kitchen, there's a long room with pool table, wet bar and a home gym that looks as if it hasn't been used in a while.

"We never have time for that anymore," Bush admits, sighing. "I've put on 5 pounds so far this campaign."

Extra pounds or no, Columba Bush is the definition of petite. At 5 feet tall, she looks tiny next to her husband, who is 6 feet 4. "It's weird," she says. "This many years and I'm still not used to it. I have to wear high heels all the time."

Her look is simple and tailored. She favors dark colors, the clean lines of Chanel suits and classic pearl earrings. Her auburn hair is stylishly short; she likes to pull it back with a black satin headband.

First glimpse of Jeb

In February, Columba and Jeb Bush will celebrate their 25th wedding anniversary. Their love story is a transcontinental one.

It started in 1971, when they met in Columba's hometown of Leon, in central Mexico. Jeb, who was attending high school at the elite Phillips Academy in Massachusetts, had gone to Mexico as an exchange student.

He was the son of U.S. Rep. George Bush, heir to a powerful political family. Columba Garnica Gallo was a sheltered 16-year-old, the product of Catholic schools and a strict religious upbringing.

When she was 3, her father had abandoned the family, leaving her mother to raise Columba, her older brother, Francisco, and older sister, Lucila. They were helped by Columba's maternal grandfather, a wealthy real estate developer.

On the fateful evening, Columba was riding around Leon's central plaza in a car with her sister and a friend of Jeb's, another exchange student who was dating Lucila. They spotted Jeb standing on a corner and pulled over to say hello. Jeb looked into the back seat, where Columba sat, and greeted her in Spanish.

She remembers thinking, "Ay, demasiado alto." (He's too tall.)

Nevertheless, she was charmed.

The couple courted by mail and telephone after he returned home. Three years later they married in the campus chapel at the University of Texas in Austin, where Jeb was about to graduate with a degree in Latin American studies. Columba had completed two years of college in Mexico.

Several Bushes were at the wedding, but Columba had only her sister and mother, who didn't understand a word of the ceremony. Columba spoke very little English herself.

There was no reception.

The Bushes lived in Austin, Houston and Venezuela while Jeb worked for Texas Commerce Bank. When they moved to South America, George, their firstborn, was not yet 2. Noelle was 4 months old.

"That was so hard," Columba recalls. "I had one baby here, on this hip, and another one on the other hip."

By 1979, they were back in Texas. While campaigning for his father, Jeb met Florida developer Armando Codina. The two men discussed a commercial real estate partnership based in Miami.

"Jeb saw the possibilities of a nice life for us in Florida, so that was what we decided to do," says Columba.

Miami has been home ever since. The pervasive Latin culture is a perfect fit for Columba, who adores Spanish soap operas and spicy food.

"It's really comfortable here," she says. "Everywhere I go, there is Spanish, so I never get to practice my English. That is the only problem."

At home Jeb and Columba converse in Spanish. "When I speak English to him, he doesn't understand me," she says, laughing.

Columba's accent is charming. She pronounces her husband's name as "Jabe." Sometimes she will tilt her head heavenward and say "Thanks to God," an Anglicized version of gracias a Dios.

Oddly, she has trained herself to pronounce her own name as cuh-LUM-buh, mimicking English speakers. In Spanish, it is co-LOOM-bah.

The Bush children know Spanish but don't often use it, she says. "I speak Spanish to them and they answer me in English."

All the children attended Gulliver Academy, a Miami private school where Gloria Estefan sent her son.

Columba's sister, Lucila, married Jeb's friend, the boy driving the car in the plaza, and they also moved to Miami. They live 15 minutes away, with Columba's mother, who is now 74 and ailing.

Children, campaigns, struggles

George P., 22, comes in the back door. He towers over his mother by several inches.

"Hi, Georgito," says Columba. "How was school?"

"Not too bad," he answers. "Only two fights today."

George, a graduate of Rice University, lives at home. This fall he started teaching history at Homestead High School. It's quite a contrast to Gulliver. Columba worries and is proud of him at the same time.

"We had Hispanic Heritage Day," George tells his mother with a grin, holding up a painted wooden maraca.

In 1982 the Bushes had their last child, John Ellis Jr. -- Jebby. By then, their life had settled into a hectic mix of politics and business.

Gubernatorial candidate Jeb Bush hugs his children Jeb Jr., 14, and Noelle, 21, after his second televised debate with Lt. Gov. Buddy MacKay in St. Petersburg. Jebby attends boarding school in Jacksonville. Noelle lives at home in Miami with her parents and brother George P. [Times photo: Cherie Diez]

While Jeb built a lucrative career in real estate, he also dabbled in politics by helping both of George Bush's campaigns and the gubernatorial race of Bob Martinez. Bush served under Martinez as commerce secretary for 1 1/2 years, before resigning to work full time in his father's presidential campaign.

"We've been doing campaigns since 1979," Columba says. "Practically one every two years."

There's no trace of regret in her voice. When you marry into one of America's most politically active families, you expect to be involved.

Still, it has been hard at times.

"We're very private persons, Jeb and I," Columba says. "Can you believe it? In our situation?"

Perhaps most painful was 1988, when Columba was slated to appear at the Republican National Convention and second, in Spanish, her father-in-law's nomination for president. The day before, headlines quoted George Bush referring to Jeb and Columba's children as "the little brown ones."

Shy Columba, a newly naturalized American citizen, about to appear on national TV for the first time in her life, suddenly was barraged with attention.

"It was a challenge," she says quietly. "But it turned out to be a great experience. What that made me do was start to promote Mexican art. I wanted Hispanics to be proud of their culture, to not be ashamed of being brown."

Today, Columba and Jeb are very close to his parents. Nearly every tabletop in their house sports framed family photos, most including the elder Bushes. One picture shows George Bush hugging Jeb Jr.

"Dear Jeb," reads a handwritten inscription. "I love you very much, Gampy."

In 1996 George Bush invited Columba along on a five-day trip to several South American countries. It was just the two of them, accompanied by several Secret Service agents.

This summer, the whole Bush clan, including Columba, Jeb and their children, spent a month at the family vacation compound in Kennebunkport, Maine. Then they hopped on a friend's yacht for a Mediterranean cruise.

Jeb's first run for governor, in 1994, was hard on the family. He campaigned tirelessly and was away for days at a time. Meanwhile, Columba was at home taking care of two teenagers and one preteen.

After Jeb lost the race to Lawton Chiles, he came home to problems. In an interview this summer with Time magazine, he admitted he felt estranged from Columba and the children by the end of that campaign. One of the kids was struggling with a drug problem, though neither Jeb nor Columba will say which one.

Heavy soul-searching ensued. Both Jeb and Columba attended classes at Informed Families, a drug prevention agency in Miami. Jeb decided to undertake the six-month process of converting to his wife's faith. He joined her church, Epiphany Catholic Church in Miami, on Easter 1995.

"The last four years have been a time of reflection," Columba says, choosing her words slowly. "I think we've grown, both of us. We took time off from everything to do the things we should be doing, like getting closer as a family."

This year's Bush campaign is quite different from the last one. Observers have noted a gentler, more relaxed Jeb.

"He's spent the last few years listening to people, hearing about their suffering, their struggles," Columba says. "That makes him able to understand what they go through."

It also makes him a more engaged husband and father who tries not to spend a night away from home, even in the midst of a campaign.

"He will fly or drive in the middle of the night, just to get home," she says. "He learned that from his father."

Enemy of drugs, friend of the arts

As son George heads off to the gym for a workout, Noelle, 21, arrives home, carrying several bags of groceries.

"Oh, good," says Columba. "BB has been waiting for his dinner."

Noelle unpacks cans of cat food and BB, a bluepoint Siamese, jumps on the kitchen counter.

A student at Miami-Dade Community College, Noelle is interested in art history, like her mother.

"She's a talented artist, when she decides to sit down and paint," Columba says.

This time around, the Bushes decided not to mix campaigning and raising a teenager at home. They enrolled Jebby, 14, at Bolles, a boarding school in Jacksonville. He started ninth grade this fall.

"It's not fair to the kids when you're gone so much of the time and they're home alone," Columba says. "I feel very responsible. So does Jeb. I want to have Jebby under very strong supervision."

The family's brush with drug abuse has turned Columba into a passionate spokeswoman on the topic -- even though she says her knees still shake whenever she has to give a speech to a large crowd. If Jeb is elected, she expects this issue to be her main focus as the governor's wife.

"All children are tempted. That is the reality parents have to face," she says. "Thousands and thousands of kids are going through a lot of pain. Not just the kids, but whole families."

Peggy Sapp, president of Informed Families, met Columba two years ago after hearing her speak at a luncheon.

"She talked about how the drug problem had impacted her personally," Sapp says. "She's just genuine."

Another Columba cause is the Ballet Folklorico de Mexico. For several years she has helped raise money so that schoolchildren here and in Mexico can attend free performances of the dance group. Two weeks ago, 5,000 Miami students saw the colorful ethnic show.

Columba also dreams of organizing art exhibits that would tour the state. "I would love to expose more people to the fine arts," she says. "It can make such a difference in people's lives."

Eight years ago, Mexican artist Benjamin Dominguez painted Columba's portrait. It shows a dark-haired young woman dressed in antique lace. It was inspired by an old Mexican tradition, Columba explains.

"In colonial times, before a girl entered the convent, she would have her portrait done. All her favorite things would be in the painting."

Columba's portrait shows her wearing a crown of red carnations, her favorite flower. She's holding her beloved cat, BB. Around her neck is a medal of La Virgen de San Juan, her patron saint. On the edge of her sleeve is an embroidered "J," for Jeb. The background is a typical Mexican landscape.

There are two odd elements. Next to her ear, a small angel hovers, as if whispering secrets.

"I need to have good advice," Columba says, grinning.

Then there's the large, clear bubble that completely encases her in the painting. What's that about?

Columba pauses, searching for the right words.

"I think that's my optimistic side," she says, finally. "Like, I'm in a world of my own. Sometimes I need that."

Times researcher Jerry Nagle contributed to this report.