After a stop in Vail, Colo., last weekend for golf with Gerald Ford and a “back to his roots” visit early this week with old Arkansas friends, White House aides say, the Clintons plan to fly to the Vineyard for a 10-day visit this Thursday–the president’s 47th birthday. Former Clinton adviser Vernon Jordan, owner of an island summer home, urged the president to come for the surf, golf and seclusion. Jordan’s wife, Ann, reportedly vetted several places before settling on a modest, gray-shingled cottage on Oyster Pond owned by former defense secretary Robert McNamara. Set among scrub oak and bayberry, the airy house, sparsely decorated with cherry furniture, offers sweeping views of the Atlantic across the pond and barrier beach. (To reach the shore, the Clintons can row or drive down a dirt lane.) Early cocktail chatter centered on possible problems: no curtains; no towels; a mouse was found floating dead in a toilet. (Socks isn’t coming, though.)

Rumors flew on how the presidential visit would disrupt island life in what already is the peak tourist week. The Secret Service had commandeered a ferry; roads would be blocked; the Farm Neck Golf Club would be closed when Clinton plays (it won’t, says the manager). “Why would Clinton come here?” asked an Edgartown resident. “There’s no McDonald’s.” Others hope to ignore the Clintons. “We’ll stock up early, then hunker down for the duration,” says one local.

The tony summer set, which includes celebs from Jackie Onassis to Walter Cronkite, is ambivalent. “Everyone’s acting annoyed,” says longtime Vineyarder Carly Simon. “But they’re really excited. Everyone hopes the Clintons will show up at their cookout.” With all the fuss, some, like Simon, think the Clintons may not even show: “I wouldn’t be surprised if they end up going to Nantucket.”

MAP:

Sorry, Thomasons. Clintons on low-glitz diet.

Nixed Roger Altman ranch. Cattle & Bill’s allergies don’t mix.

GOP courtesy call on Gerald Ford for golf (duck!) and Bolshoi ballet.

Down-home R&R with pals Jim and Diane Blair. Coral Gables, Fla. Dropped idea of visiting Hill’s bro Hugh. Too humid?

Sun, surf and swanky rich liberals. What better?

A yawn: no one to talk to but crickets.

(NC)