The not so merry wives of Washington.

• Author: Eilperin, Juliet
• Position: Politicians' wives

For those praying for something, anything, to come between Newt Gingrich and the presidency, September's Vanity Fair offered a sign from God--a big-eyed brunette from a small town in Ohio: Marianne Ginther Gingrich. "I don't want him to be president," the Speaker's wife told the magazine. And, she added, stopping him was well within her power: "It's easy ... I just go on the air the next day and I undermine everything."

If only Pat Nixon had been so bold. But Marianne Gingrich's comments were heartening for another, less partisan, reason: They were an irreverent reminder that political wives are no longer doormats for their husband's ambitions. Instead of genuflecting to tradition, she thumbed her nose at it, making it clear that she has no interest in her husband's constituents. "I like adventure," she said. "I just don't like the public."

Only 20 years ago most political wives were dutifully cutting ribbons and signing thousands of constituent Christmas cards. Now there are more and more Manannes--women with careers and attitudes who have made leaps and bounds from a time when political wives didn't express thoughts, let alone opinions, when working was a rarity, and grinning and bearing the D.C. social circuit a must. By the 103rd Congress, the percentage of wives who worked--58 percent--paralleled the percentage of working women nationwide. Having a career is now almost as fashionable in the capital as being a graceful hostess once was.

But this trend has brought complications of its own. Marianne Gingrich, for example, has an impressive job as a vice president of marketing for an international trade company. But while she is a sharp woman, her post is not the result of years spent honing her marketing skills--the last job she held was as a cosmetics consultant. She has her position, the couple readily admitted to Vanity Fair's Gail Sheehy, because the Speaker called in favors. From Sheehy, this garnered grudging admiration: "He is even trying to help her build an independent career." But doesn't Sheehy see the contradiction? Because Newt Gingrich has built his wife's career, there's nothing independent about it.

Marianne Gingrich is hardly alone. Many Washington wives who seem to have escaped their husbands' shadows actually owe their professional lives, or at least much of their professional success, to their husbands' positions. And if they don't quite believe this is true, they are reminded when their husbands lose their offices--or run off with someone else. Being a "wife of" does have professional benefits--the fast track to power, money, success--that other working women can only dream of. But these seeming advantages are also one reason that, in many ways, political wives' much-vaunted independence is far from complete.

Wifely Virtues

In the old Washington, men were known for what they did, but women were known by whom they had married. If a couple divorced, the woman lost her social calling card. The first wife of Johnson aide Joseph Califano, for example, was attractive, bright, popular, and, some snickered, more knowledgeable about politics than her husband. Then came the divorce. Joseph Califano remarried and has remained a prominent political figure to this day. But Trudy Califano faded fast. "I...