Little lady who keeps her powder dry for the President

Her name is Lillian Brown and you find out about her, in Washington,

through the political grapevine or, in my case, the old girl network. Or

else you come across her book, Your Public Best, first published in l989

by Newmarket Press.

For over 30 years Lillian Brown, who says she's proud of her age but

doesn't amplify that statement, has been active in radio and television,

as a producer, voice coach, image consultant, and teacher.

She got her toe in the door because CBS noticed the nice professional

make-up she did on members of her daughters' school's parent-teachers

association when they were on local television shows.

For many years she has been the chief TV make-up artist for CBS News,

working with greats like Walter Cronkite, Dan Rather, and Diane Sawyer.

She has also produced and taught radio communication at Washington's

three major universities, George Washington, American, and Georgetown,

winning awards for her shows, and going on the air herself.

Her involvement with the White House as consultant, both to those

already there and those who aspire to follow them into the Oval Office,

started with Dwight D. Eisenhower. During his first run for the

presidency, his appearance changed, perforce, from that of a general in

a beribboned uniform to that of a middle-aged man in a lounge suit. He

also had a bald head which reflected the television lights. For that

problem, Lillian's solution -- not only for Ike but later for Gerry Ford

-- was to have him carry a little compact of a special pressed powder,

which he dabbed on immediately before going on the air.

If she ever finds time to write her memoirs, Lillian Brown could add

many other fascinating footnotes to history.

When John F. Kennedy ran for the presidency against Richard Nixon, a

contributing factor to JFK's close win was the unappetising way Nixon

sweated during their debate on television.

''Nixon was using the wrong make-up,'' says Lillian, who, much later,

became his cosmetics adviser. ''And Kennedy was confident and assured on

camera because he understood everything about it. He'd been on

television programmes like Face the Nation 11 times before the

presidential election debate. He'd also talked to the technical crews

before and after every appearance and he knew exactly what each one

did.''

JFK always remembered, when on a show, that the camera might zero in

on him any time, so he constantly controlled his body language.

He would never, as George Bush did, have checked his watch while his

opponent had the floor.

Kennedy was a professional about his public appearances. So, of

course, was Ronald Reagan, that great communicator who, as Lillian puts

it, ''looked and acted presidential. It was incredible how he could read

a teleprompter.''

She refuses to gossip about her clients -- or at least pass along

negative things about them -- but the famous aren't reticent about

admitting they sought her advice. On the cover of the first of Lillian's

books, Senator Barbara Mikulski, no glamour girl but good at getting

elected, confesses frankly that Lillian made her ''look 10 years younger

and 10 pounds slimmer''.

When my novel, Home To Strathblane was brought out by Argyll

Publishing and, as a participant in the Scottish Book Fortnight, I had

to plan a trip home from Washington to make public appearances at

libraries and bookstores, a prominent woman scientist at the National

Institute of Health recommended that I take instruction from Lillian

Brown.

''I did that when my job began to involve a lot of meetings and

speeches,'' she said. ''Lillian can afford to coach private clients

quite reasonably, she has so many regular assignments with public

figures and the networks. And she's become one of my best friends. She's

a dear!''

Nevertheless, I arrived for my first session thoroughly scared

although my inhibitions vanished within the first five minutes, and I

found myself pouring out my misgivings, confessing to stage fright,

which, according to Lillian, is a common problem and comes from not

feeling prepared, and can be controlled by having enough oxygen in the

lungs.

Lillian Brown is small, wears pleasing clothes in non-threatening

colours. She has a warm smile and bright, lively eyes that you know miss

nothing but it doesn't scare you because she's not judgmental.

She takes people as they are and works with them to bring out their

good points, helps them to look and act their best.

What she told me were things I'd known from my youth up but just

hadn't done, at least not in years. Like breathing properly, keeping my

lungs and diaphragm filled with air. She recommended yoga exercises, and

of course I'm an enthusiastic, though lax, student of yoga. It helps

relaxation, while certain specific postures (asanas) like the Lion and

the complete breath, clear the throat and the nasal passages. Even a

little regular practice made a dramatic improvement to my sense of

well-being.

Make-up, according to Lillian Brown, must be subtle. ''An audience

shouldn't think 'What beautiful make-up!' They should think 'What a

beautiful person!' '' she says. The colour of the eyes is important, and

what one wears brings this out.

Black and navy don't show up well at a distance or on camera, and

white is too stark close to the face. That's why nearly every man on

television wears a pale blue shirt. Red is a powerful, dominating colour

so needs to be used sparingly. It's well to avoid spectacles with heavy

frames, shiny jewellery, and anything that reflects back light or is

otherwise distracting. Hair styles, Lillian feels, are personal things,

but showing too much forehead can add years.

Her biggest challenge with President Clinton, for whom she is

constantly on call, is that his skin is sensitive to the sun and tends

to turn pink after he's been outdoors jogging. ''President Carter had

the same problem,'' she remembers. Her solution is ''to go for the

cheekbones'' then try to equalise the colour of the rest of the facial

skin. Although she's worked with a lot of Republicans, she has a great

admiration for the present administration in Washington.

Male politicians, she commented, no longer consider make-up artists a

threat to their manhood as they did 25 years ago. She has also been a

godsend, and not just on make-up, to the women who are now moving into

public life. ''Her advice on how to hold a press conference is as sound

and useful as what colour of dress to wear,'' says Governor Ann Richards

of Texas.

In essence, her advice is that old Boy Scout injunction: ''Be

prepared.'' Because, she points out, something always goes wrong.

Most recently, in Washington, the teleprompter flashed up the wrong

speech for President Clinton to deliver when he went on national

television to announce his important health plan.

Fortunately, he immediately recognised what had happened as did his

horrified aides, and he was sufficiently at ease in the media to ad lib

until the computer located the right material.

''And didn't he look nice!'' said Lillian Brown who'd been at the

White House all week, and had been given a good seat in the audience.