Poppy as Preppy

Prescott Bush’s way of life resembled the cultural setting one finds in the fiction of John Cheever, the atmosphere of leafy, suburban Connecticut, where “prosperous men and women gathered by the sapphire-colored waters while caterer’s men in white coats passed them cold gin.” ¹ Bush’s father would join them on their daily ride from Greenwich to Grand Central Station. “There was the club car,” recalled his daughter, Nancy. “It had arm chairs and you could play bridge, but Dad always read the paper and got into a thoroughly gloomy mood.” From midtown, he took the subway down to Wall Street, completing a forty-five minute trip, “years and years, all the way. He’d die now, with limos picking them up. He was a straphanger.” ²