“I remember the last time I was here was the 1973 Opening Day and I hope it’s a good omen,” he said with a smile. Then he flashed his encyclopedic memory for facts. “That day I remember Nolan Ryan pitched, the Angels won 3 to 2. And Frank Robinson, playing his first game for the Angels, hit one over the left field wall.” He even recalled that Steve Busby had been pitching for the opposing Royals that day.8
Later during the game, he spoke with a local sportswriter and bragged about the strength of the Angels lineup. “Now you can take all this advice and go to Las Vegas, put some money down and win yourself a trip to Hawaii, or Peking, if you want.”
By the end of June, the first public steps of Nixon’s comeback had taken place. He had appeared on television, attended a state funeral, released a successful book, and hosted hundreds of former prisoners of war at a publicized reception. Now it was time to go even further. And the choice for his next public outing was a strategic one.
As a presidential candidate in 1968, Nixon had campaigned on the idea of revenue sharing. The idea was that the federal government should send some money directly to local governments with no strings attached. The local entities could use the money as they saw fit. Eventually, a bipartisan bill that had originated with Democratic congressman Ed Koch of New York emerged from Congress. Nixon signed the legislation in 1972. Like many of the domestic achievements of his administration, Nixon felt that it had been overlooked in the shadow of Watergate.
But it had not been forgotten in the town of Hyden, Kentucky, which was home to five hundred people. This coal-mining town had used revenue-sharing money from the federal government to construct a recreation center. And since revenue sharing had been a Nixon program, the reliably Republican town decided to name the new center after Richard Nixon. The dedication for the building was set for July 2, 1978.
Nixon received an invitation to the dedication not long after his foray into Anaheim. He wanted to go. It made sense on so many levels. This had been his program; these were his voters. But was it too soon? Would he risk a new batch of “cover-up” stories from the media? The Humphrey funeral had been different; he had the cover of the Humphrey family, who wanted him there. But now he would not have such a luxury. Critics in the press would likely pounce and accuse him of reengaging in politics.
Nixon weighed all the pros and cons and decided to attend. He was ready to be seen in public. He was ready to take another step on the journey back. He would take the risk.
Nixon left San Clemente for the airport early on the morning of July 1. When he arrived at the London-Corbin Airport in Kentucky, he looked out from the plane’s window and saw more than a thousand people waiting to greet him. Many in the crowd were wearing Nixon campaign gear from 1972. As Nixon exited the executive jet, a local high school band began playing “Hail to the Chief.” Instinctively, Nixon decided to work the crowd. Just like he had during the 1972 campaign, he went to the fence line and shook hands with supporters. Some were holding signs with the old Nixon slogan from the 1972 presidential campaign: “NOW MORE THAN EVER.” Nixon shook hands before making his way to a makeshift stage where a microphone had been set up.
“I really appreciate your coming out,” he said in his first public speech since leaving the White House. For a man not known for outward displays of emotion, Nixon seemed genuinely moved by the crowd. For the people to “come out to the airport and stand in the hot sun . . . that’s just the nicest thing you can do.”9
Nixon then made his way to the car waiting to drive him to Hyden. After spending the night at the Appalachian Motel, he rose the next morning and went over his remarks for the day’s event. Around eleven thirty in the morning, the Nixon motorcade left the hotel and began the drive to the community center. As the cars pulled up, Nixon could see the brown brick building with the roof sloping from right to left. Just below the roofline, the words “Richard M. Nixon Recreation Center” could be seen on the building.
As Nixon got out of the car and headed inside, he could see the crowd, which numbered about four thousand. “I hope it’s not too soon,” he said, wondering if he had made the right decision in making such a public move.
He needn’t have worried. The people in the crowd had been chosen for their Republican credentials. So the former president was in little danger of any hecklers greeting him on this day. Besides, it had been almost four years since his resignation. The American people had been through a lot in those four years. They had seen the failures of Ford and Carter. And they had watched the Frost interviews and seen Nixon in anguish over his fall from power. After four years, people were beginning to be ready to show grace to the former president.
The program that day began with the introduction of local officials. Then, the time had come—Nixon would at last address a public event in the U.S. It was the first such event since Watergate.
Warm applause greeted him as he was introduced and made his way to the microphone. As he placed his hands on the sides of the podium, he looked very much like he had as president. Wearing a dark blue suit and looking fit, Nixon smiled at the crowd. A sign attached to the front of the podium read, “Thanks for Courage Under Fire.” Though he couldn’t see the sign, he could see the support from the crowd. He quickly launched into a classic Nixon speech. Politics in America is always a game of choices, and no one understood this better than Nixon. As a candidate and as a president, he had always tried to demonstrate the choices people faced and the consequences of those choices: the Silent Majority versus the elites and the free world versus the Communists. Perhaps no one ever framed issues as choices better than Nixon. Now, as a former president, he did so again.
He spoke to the Hyden audience that day about two Americas. In one America, people were being told that the country needed to adjust to changing times and not try to lead the world. This thinly veiled shot at the Carter administration was quickly followed up by his description of a second option.
“Let me tell you about another America ,” he said—a country made up of people “who have not lost faith in America, who believe American should be strong. . . .” The crowd erupted in cheers as a smile creased Nixon’s face. After all those years and after all those setbacks, he still had it. He could still work a crowd.10
The speech went on for forty minutes. But it only took one minute to prove his point—Nixon was back. He had taken a risk in going public; all it would have taken to ruin the narrative of a comeback that day would have been one angry heckler demanding he go to jail. Instead, he got cheers. The public, it seemed, was ready to forgive.
Some members of the media were not so ready. New York magazine, for example, had recruited Dick Tuck to cover the event. The selection of Tuck spoke volumes about the magazine editors’ intentions. Tuck was an infamous political trickster who had spent years trying to undermine Nixon. During Nixon’s gubernatorial campaign way back in 1962, Nixon had arrived at an event in a Chinese restaurant where Tuck had decided to make an issue of a previously reported loan from Howard Hughes to Nixon’s brother. “What about the Hughes loan?” read signs in Chinese held by members of the crowd.
This was the man chosen to cover Nixon’s comeback. He was not a serious journalist.
Still, he managed to secure an interview with his nemesis. After some small talk about politics, Tuck got to the point. “My editors at New York magazine were hoping that I’d come back with a signed confession,” he told the former president. Tuck then admitted without such a confession he wouldn’t have anything to write in his story.
“Don’t worry, you’ll think of something,” Nixon deadpanned. The interview ended. Ironically, for all his animus toward Nixon, Tuck still respected the man’s mind and his ability. Years later, shortly before his death in 2018, Tuck shocked guests at the celebration of his ninety-third birthday by saying of the current Republican president: “Donald Trump couldn’t carry Dick Nixon’s shoes.”11
As Nixon left Kentucky that day in 1978, he was experiencing a glimpse o
f the happiness that had eluded him since Watergate. He still commanded an audience; he still had something to say; he still could be a voice on issues that mattered to him.
It was a small victory that day in Hyden, Kentucky. But long wars are won with small battles. And for Nixon, it was now time to start thinking about his next strategic moves. Like any commander, Nixon wanted to pick favorable terrain for his next battle. So for his next public foray he chose Joe Graham Post #119 of the American Legion in Biloxi, Mississippi. This would be another safe place for Nixon to speak—a Southern town in front of military veterans. Colonel Brennan called this the “friendly faces” strategy, and the Nixon team would have been hard-pressed to find any friendlier faces than these.
There seemed to be good news all around Nixon that summer of 1978. In August, his daughter Julie gave birth to his first grandchild—Jennie Elizabeth Eisenhower. An overjoyed Nixon took pen to paper to welcome his granddaughter.
“In the years ahead you will have many happy moments,” the letter read. “But in life you must expect some disappointments and sadness. At such times you will always be sustained by the fact that so many people love you very much.”12
Nixon went on to note that Jennie’s “Great Grandfather, President Eisenhower, had the great gift of being able to light up a room with his smile. My fondest wish, which I know will come true, is that you will have that same gift.”
The letter was signed, “RN.”
The good times continued into the fall. In November, Nixon flew in a private jet to the event in Mississippi. On his way, he stopped and greeted fans in Dallas and then later in Shreveport. At the airport in Shreveport, Nixon reveled in the crowd’s chant of “Keep coming out!”
“Don’t worry, I will,” he responded. “Officially, you can say, ‘I’m out!” The crowd roared its approval. But the media in attendance were appalled. A New York Times editorial excoriated his comments. “The implication is that, beyond the formal pardon issued by President Ford,” the editorial read, “a merciful Judge Nixon has now ruled that a manly Defendant Nixon deserves to be ‘out.’ ”
If Nixon ever bothered to read the editorial, he didn’t act like it. Like anyone emerging from the throes of a personal calamity, he was starting to feel alive again. In Mississippi, Nixon took a giant stride forward in his journey out of the darkness of his despair. Just like the old days when he was campaigning for office, Nixon spoke to a cheering crowd inside the Mississippi Coast Coliseum. For his remarks on this occasion, Nixon spoke more personally about his past challenges. As a reference point, he talked about the hurricane the region had experienced in 1969. While some had thought it would take decades to rebuild, he told the crowd that he knew it wouldn’t.
“I knew there was a spirit no hurricane could possibly break,” he said. Then he referred to conversations he had conducted with Mississippians in the aftermath of the storm in 1969: “You can come back, and when you do, I’ll come back to see what you’ve done.”
Then, Nixon delivered his most deliberate statement of his intent since the resignation. “You’ve come back,” he said to roars from the crowd, “and I’ve come back.”13
* * *
If the Nixon comeback had now achieved successes in the United States, it made sense to take the elder statesman and foreign policy guru to an event overseas. Sure, he had been to China in 1976. But those had largely been private meetings. In November, he flew to Paris, appeared on the French television program Les Dossiers de l’écran, and even answered questions from callers.
Then it was on to the main event in Great Britain. For years, Nixon had maintained a relationship with a young Tory backbencher in the British Parliament named Jonathan Aitken. They had talked earlier that year about Aitken setting up meetings in England for Nixon should he want to come. Then on November 3, Nixon had called his friend unsolicited.
“I’m thinking of coming to your country towards the end of the month,” Nixon announced. “I’ve had an interesting invitation to address the Oxford Union.” He then asked Aitken if he should consider accepting it. Aitken urged him to decline. He told the former president that he would be greeted with a hostile crowd eager to debate him.
Nixon was unconcerned. “As the conversation continued,” Aitken remembers, “it became apparent that he was not seeking advice: he had already made up his mind to go to Oxford.”14
Aitken went to work making arrangements for the trip. And he encountered no shortage of opposition to the visit, including the strong disapproval of the British Foreign Office. But Aitken found an ally in the leader of his own Conservative Party.
“I would be absolutely delighted to meet President Nixon,” Margaret Thatcher told him. With Thatcher’s support, the speaker of Parliament, George Thomas, reversed his previous decision not to host Nixon. “What a woman! What courage!” Thomas told Aitken after learning that Thatcher wanted to meet with the former president.15
When Nixon landed in London on November 29, he was buoyed by his recent success in Paris. The very next day, he arrived at the crucial event on his itinerary—the Oxford Union. As he drove to the event with Aitken in a black Daimler limousine, Nixon took note of the protestors outside the event.
“Rhodes Scholars from Ivy League schools, I bet,” he quipped as he heard chants of “Jail to the Chief.” Nixon seemed to enjoy the protest. He was back in the arena again, and he relished the fact that the opposition thought enough of him to come out and protest publicly. Once he entered the hall and began his remarks, Nixon felt right at home. Few people could talk off the cuff with such recall and precision. Nixon delivered a classic overview of world affairs and called himself a “realist” in international policy.
Afterwards, when the question and answer period began, Nixon was on top of his game.
Asked about the Cold War, he said he “liked the Russians” but didn’t like the “Communists.”
On Cambodia, he didn’t give an inch: “Accusing the United States of invading the North Vietnamese occupation zones in Cambodia is the equivalent of accusing the Allies of invading German-occupied France in 1944.”
Inevitably the conversation turned to Watergate. And here, as he had with Frost, Nixon struck a balance by accepting moral responsibility while trying to provide some context for his overall presidency. “Some people say I didn’t handle it properly, and they’re right,” he admitted. “I screwed it up. And I paid the price. Mea culpa. But let’s get on to my achievements. You’ll be here in the year 2000 and we’ll see how I’m regarded then.”
As the event concluded, the crowd rose to its feet to applaud him. Later that night, he made his way to the House of Commons, where he was thoroughly impressed with the leader of the Conservative Party.16
“Wow, you can see how she became leader,” he told Aitken after he met Thatcher. “She’s really got it.”
He then gave another tour de force of a speech on international affairs to a group of Parliament members, including some Labour Party members. The tone of the meeting and the reaction of the crowd was largely the same as it had been at Oxford—Nixon was favorably received.
According to his friend Aitken, this was more than just the British exercising decorum and being polite. He sensed something more profound. “What Nixon was encountering was the first manifestation of the swing in international opinion away from the obloquy that had been heaped on him at the time of Watergate,” he would write.17
Before ending the trip, Nixon met with several other prominent figures, including Benjamin Disraeli’s biographer, Robert Blake. Nixon had always admired the British prime minister who defied the Russians in Europe. Nixon paraphrased a line from Blake’s book about Disraeli being a man who “was never long defeated and would always make a comeback.” Blake was struck by the comment and later conceded that Disraeli and Nixon shared many similarities, including the ability to “bounce back.”
As Nixon said goodbye to Aitken, he thanked him and commented on the favorable reviews his appearances in En
gland had garnered. Then, suddenly, his eyes moistened. “You have to stay in the arena,” he told his friend. “Even when you’re down and bleeding and being kicked in the nuts, you have to get up and fight back. You can always do it. And when you feel you can’t go on, you must do it.”
As he shook hands with his friend he added, “If the cause is great enough, it’s always worth fighting back. . . .”18
* * *
On his way back home to California, Nixon landed first in New York City. The city had long been important to him. It was here that he had gone into exile after his humiliation in the 1962 gubernatorial race. And though he resented the pretentiousness of the city, he respected its importance in finance, law, and media. “It’s the fastest track in the world,” he would say.
While staying at the Waldorf Astoria, he met up with Pat. Ed and Tricia, who lived in the city, joined them as well. Because Christmas was approaching rapidly, the Nixon family even made time for some shopping.
But the trip to New York was intended for business as well as pleasure. While there, Nixon decided to grant an interview to a friendly member of the press. Nick Thimmesch had at one point been a young Nixon staffer. Now he was a syndicated columnist. Thimmesch was eager to be the first to interview the former president about his trip to Europe.
The Saturday Evening Post had commissioned the article. With international events often in the news, Thimmesch asked Nixon about his thoughts on world affairs. The former president was brutal in his critique of what he saw as the failed policies of the Carter administration. He mocked the idea that Carter could somehow change the behavior of individual countries by championing human rights.
“ ‘Look boys,’ ” he imagined Carter saying to the Saudis, “ ‘until you unveil the women we won’t buy your oil.’ ” Ever the realist when it came to foreign policy, Nixon said the goal on the world stage was to build relationships and maintain allies. And if that meant remaining quiet about human rights issues in those countries, then so be it. He told Thimmesch, “The bottom line is to keep friends of the United States. I don’t approve of kicking our friends in public.”
After the Fall Page 9