The two men spoke again on April 26, after Yeltsin had triumphed in a referendum. After the two leaders commiserated about the media’s lack of attention to the Yeltsin victory, the talk turned to Bosnia. At the end, almost in passing, Clinton casually referenced a topic near and dear to Nixon—China. The move was not lost on Nixon.
“Clinton is very clever,” he said. “By mentioning China at the end of the conversation, he leaves you tantalized, waiting for the next call.”
* * *
His place in history was very much on Nixon’s mind in these days. He was doing his part and writing books. Still, he worried about the biographies being written about him. Historians like Stephen Ambrose, who wrote three books about Nixon, took a critical view of the Nixon era.
Nixon had long complained about historians being “liberals” or “cut-and-paste” biographers. When he was approached by Tory member of Parliament Jonathan Aitken about a sympathetic biography, Nixon not only agreed to be interviewed but became the virtual ghost editor of the book. He sent Aitken scores of previously unseen documents and diary entries. Aitken sent back entire chapters for Nixon to review and edit.
“Thank you very much for answering my questions with such speed and with such a wealth of fascinating information,” Aitken wrote after Nixon had provided detailed answers to a series of questions. Nixon also encouraged former aides to meet with Aitken. And once the manuscript was completed, Nixon and his staff began trying to get the book published. Alas, it proved to be a tough sale.15
“Your foreknowledge of the chimes of political correctness at W. W. Norton proved all too prescient,” Aitken wrote to Nixon’s chief of staff, John Taylor, after yet another rejection from a publisher in New York. “For the fourth time in the curious progress of Nixon: A Life around the publishing houses of New York, the book was turned down by a publishing board (who had not read it) after a recommendation from a senior editor who had read it!”16
Nixon had feared that a book favorable to him could not win a contract in New York. So he planned accordingly. Having the book published was more important to Nixon than who published it. He urged Aitken to pitch his book to Regnery, the conservative publishing house in Washington. Aitken did so and found success.
In October 1993, Aitken wrote to Nixon that “all is well at Regnery. I have signed a contract with them and they plan to publish in April or May of next year.”17
Still, the main books that Nixon hoped would shape his legacy were the ones he was writing. In the spring of 1993, he began working on yet another one. Tentatively called Beyond Peace, the new book would tackle the end of the Cold War and address what America should focus on next. Nixon clearly hoped he had more time and believed that he could use his new relationship with Clinton to impact world affairs.
But time waits for no one. And for Nixon, it was dusk. Earlier that year he had turned eighty. “Don’t look at the past, look to the future,” he said that day, “because if you do you may live long enough to enjoy it.” He was joined at his home in Saddle River for a birthday celebration featuring a cake with eight candles—one for each decade of his life. A conference line was established so that Nixon could hear well-wishers at his Presidential Library in Yorba Linda sing “Happy Birthday.” Nixon enjoyed the celebration. “I hated the idea of becoming 80 years of age until I thought of the alternative,” he joked.18
But even as Nixon’s annual doctor visits showed him to be in reasonably good health, the same could not be said for his wife. Most of Pat’s days were spent at home. She called the Nixon house the “Eagle’s Nest” and she rarely ventured outside of it. She had fought emphysema for years and struggled to breathe. On April 25, she was taken to the New York Hospital and it soon became apparent that cancer would take her life within weeks. Nixon tried to be strong for his daughters, who were virtually inconsolable. Meanwhile, his old friend John Connally passed away in Texas—another blow to Nixon’s psyche. Nixon insisted on flying to Texas for the funeral. Afterwards he met with the family and told them Connally’s greatest legacy was his children. Back home in New Jersey, he appeared worn out from the stress of the travel and the funeral.
On June 21, the Nixons should have been celebrating their fifty-third wedding anniversary. Instead, Pat was entering the last stretch of her life’s journey. She had suffered from lung cancer for some time. It had grown worse over the previous few months. Then on June 22, she passed away. Just before she did, Nixon sat by her bed and told her, “Your family love you, the country loves you, and people all over the world love you.” A few days later at the funeral on the grounds of the Nixon Library, a lifetime of putting on a brave face finally came to an end for Nixon. He cried openly during the funeral.19
Afterward, the former president hosted a reception inside the Nixon Library. Nixon spoke to the crowd, which included friends as well as former adversaries. George McGovern stayed until the very end. When asked why he came, the former Nixon opponent said simply, “You can’t keep campaigning forever.”
As the crowd at the reception listened to Nixon, they soon were moved to tears, as well. Nixon spoke of his love for Pat and of their shared love for their family and their grandchildren. As he looked at his grandchildren in the crowd, he told the story of the time granddaughter Jennie Eisenhower had asked Pat what she wanted to be called. Pat responded that “Grandmother” would be too formal a name and that “Grandma” sounded too old. Instead, she had told her granddaughter to simply call her “Ma.”
The story was charming enough. But Nixon then surprised his audience by continuing in a way that transformed it from amusing to poignant. He said that Jennie had also wondered what to call him.
“You can call me anything,” he said, “because I’ve been called everything.”
Among those visibly moved by the words were Senator Bob Dole, and even McGovern, who wiped tears away with a handkerchief.20
Pat’s death took a toll on Nixon. His own health had already begun to deteriorate. He suffered from a bad back, which made it painful for him to bend over. Still he labored on. He had always worried that if his work stopped then his mind would stop, too. And so he carried on in the fall of 1993, finishing the manuscript for Beyond Peace. Then another blow came when he learned that Haldeman had died; then in December, his friend Norman Vincent Peale passed away. In early 1994, Nixon wrote a sympathetic note to Bill Clinton when the president’s mother, Virginia Kelley, died from cancer. On January 9, 1994, Nixon reached his eighty-first birthday.
In February, Nixon visited a cardiologist after he felt a throbbing sensation in his head. The doctor warned him that he could be on the road to a stroke. Still, the doctor cleared him for travel. Nixon was scheduled to journey again to Russia. Continuing his mission of trying to support the young republics that were emerging in the aftermath of the Cold War, he met with Ukrainian president Leonid Kravchuk and became the first American to address the State Duma of the Russian Federation. Yeltsin was enraged that Nixon hadn’t come to see him first and attacked the former president publicly. Then he refused to meet with Nixon. Upon his return, Nixon wrote another op-ed for the New York Times in which he essentially called for America to cultivate young leaders besides Yeltsin. “But America should also pay close attention to the new generation of Russian leaders—many of whom I met,” he wrote, “such as Grigory Yavlinsky, an impressive, young economist; Sergei Shakhray, the analytically minded minister of nationalities; and the formidable economics minister, Alexander Shokhin.” Nixon threw shade on Yeltsin, saying that he was “still a political heavyweight” but no longer “a superman.”21 Privately, he told Monica Crowley that Yelstin was in very bad shape politically.
Nixon sent President Clinton a report on the trip. “He’ll need a foreign policy victory since this Whitewater stuff is dominating the news,” said the former president, in reference to the first major scandal of the Clinton administration.22 But there would be no more conversations between Nixon and Clinton.
On April 16, Nixon at
tended the wedding of the daughter of his friend Bob Abplanalp. Sitting in the church caused Nixon to reflect on his own faith.
“Everyone goes about God differently,” he said afterward. “If there were a good preacher or minister, I’d go,” he said regarding his lack of regular attendance at church. “Besides, when I go, it’s like a show. Everyone is watching me rather than listening to the important things being said from the pulpit.”23
On April 18, Nixon was at home where he had been working on an upcoming speech. At around five forty-five in the evening, he appeared on the deck of his house with a glass of water in his hand. Suddenly, the glass fell to the ground. He made his way into the kitchen where his cook, Heidi Retter, was making dinner. She saw that something was wrong, helped him onto a nearby couch, and called 911.
Nixon had suffered a massive stroke—so powerful a stroke that he could no longer speak or see. He was rushed to New York Hospital–Cornell Medical Center. Doctors discovered “prominent brain swelling,” and two days later he went into a coma. New York mayor Rudy Giuliani and Reverend Billy Graham were among those who rushed to the hospital, along with Nixon’s distraught family.
Nixon’s condition soon deteriorated. And after a long journey filled with many comebacks during his eighty years, Nixon’s body could no longer mount a rally. At 9:08 p.m. on April 22, 1994, four days after the initial stroke and surrounded by daughters Julie and Tricia, he died.
The news struck a chord with the American people. The Presidential Library in Yorba Linda was flooded with flowers. And even old enemies praised him in the media. “His historic visits to China and the Soviet Union paved the way,” Jimmy Carter said, “to the normalization of relations between our countries, and to the SALT II accords we signed with the Soviets.”
But no one said more and did more in the immediate aftermath of Nixon’s passing than President Clinton. To him, Nixon was “a statesman who sought to build a lasting structure of peace.” Clinton declared a national day of mourning. “No less than a month before his passing,” Clinton said, adding in a personal note, “he was still in touch with me about the great issues of the day.” Clinton then surprised many in Washington by announcing that he would attend Nixon’s funeral.
* * *
On April 27, 1994, light blue skies accented by grey clouds covered the Nixon Library as mourners gathered for the funeral ceremony on the grounds of the facility. In the previous days, forty-two thousand people had walked through the Nixon Library to see Nixon’s coffin. Now many of them had returned for the funeral.
Nixon had helped choreograph his entire life; it was no surprise that he helped choreograph the final scene. The stage was built right in front of the house his father had built. This meant that as the various speakers addressed the audience, the striking image of Nixon’s humble roots would provide the backdrop.
Nixon had also played a role in deciding who would eulogize him. He selected California senator Pete Wilson, who was in a tough reelection bid but had presidential aspirations, and Senate Republican leader Bob Dole, who also had ambitions for another run for president. The funeral, televised live nationally, would give both men a platform from which the American people could see them speak. Nixon had found a way to help his party, even in death.
It was Dole who really rose to the occasion. With the Fords, the Carters, the Reagans, and the Bushes sitting in the front row, Dole delivered perhaps the greatest speech of his life. Written mostly by his longtime friend Richard Norton Smith (whom Nixon greatly admired for his biographies), Dole’s speech began with a striking declaration: “I believe the second half of the twentieth century will be known as the Age of Nixon.”
He then went into a rhythmic speech where he would describe some aspect of Nixon’s hardscrabble upbringing and end it with the line, “How American.” At the end, Dole, unable to control his emotions, fought his way through the final lines. “May God bless Richard Nixon,” he said in a quaking voice. “May God bless the United States.”
It was a masterful performance by the Kansan. But it was soon eclipsed by another eulogy, this one given by the forty-second president of the United States. If Nixon’s twenty-year efforts at redemption needed a final seal of approval, it came that day from the presence and words of Bill Clinton. When planning his own funeral, Nixon had conceived the idea of Clinton delivering a eulogy.
Clinton spoke of the great impact of Nixon’s life after Watergate. “Remarkably, he wrote nine of his ten books after he left the presidency,” he told the crowd, “working his way back into the arena he so loved by writing and thinking and engaging us in his dialogue. For the past year, even in the final weeks of his life, he gave me his wise counsel, especially with regard to Russia.”
Clinton declared himself amazed at Nixon’s mind. “One thing in particular left a profound impression on me,” he said. “Though this man was in his ninth decade, he had an incredibly sharp and vigorous and rigorous mind. As a public man, he always seemed to believe the greatest sin was remaining passive in the face of challenges, and he never stopped living by that creed. He gave of himself with intelligence and energy and devotion to duty, and his entire country owes him a debt of gratitude for that service.”
Clinton handled Watergate with grace. “Oh, yes, he knew great controversy amid defeat as well as victory,” he said. “He made mistakes, and they, like his accomplishments, are a part of his life and record. But the enduring lesson of Richard Nixon is that he never gave up being part of the action and passion of his times. He said many times that unless a person has a goal, a new mountain to climb, his spirit will die.” Clinton paused, then added, “Well, based on our last phone conversation and the letter he wrote me just a month ago, I can say that his spirit was very much alive to the very end.”
But perhaps the most profound moment of Clinton’s eulogy came when he spoke of Nixon’s life as a whole. “Today is a day for his family, his friends, and his nation to remember President Nixon’s life in totality. To them let us say, ‘May the day of judging President Nixon on anything less than his entire life and career come to a close.’ ”
It was an extraordinary moment. Bill Clinton had begun his political life protesting the Nixon administration and the Vietnam War; his wife had worked to impeach Nixon for Watergate. And yet here was Clinton saying that any accurate historical account of Nixon must not begin and end with Watergate.
The moment was almost too much for some longtime Nixon observers. Providing on-air commentary for ABC News, historian Stephen Ambrose, who had spent years writing about and criticizing Nixon, could hardly believe what he was witnessing. “I think every American over 30 years old is astonished at this outpouring of affection and emotion for Richard Nixon,” he said on air. “And thinking back to the summer of 1974, I just don’t understand how it happened.”
Ambrose continued on in his bewilderment. “No one could have predicted it,” he said of Nixon’s comeback, “except for one person. And I think he saw it. I think that he landed in California after the resignation and he devoted himself to this moment, making this moment happen. And he’s done it.” Ambrose, clearly unsettled by Nixon’s accomplishment, added, “He became not just an elder statesman—to everyone’s amazement but his, he’s our beloved elder statesman.”
Nixon was buried later that day on the grounds of his presidential library, next to Pat. The inscription on his tombstone contains a simple phrase that he chose as his epitaph: “The greatest honor history can bestow is the title of peacemaker.
Afterword
“I never saw anything like it,” Stephen Ambrose said in late 2001, years after Nixon’s death and funeral. “It was the most amazing thing I ever witnessed in politics.”1
Ambrose still couldn’t fathom what had transpired in the last twenty years of Nixon’s life. A man who had been left for dead politically (and almost died literally) had become an essential thinker and advisor on American foreign policy. What began with his return to the White House during the Carter
years evolved into a more regular role as an advisor to Reagan, transformed into a position as something of a policy critic and public agitator during the Bush years, and ended with Nixon enjoying perhaps his closest relationship with any president—William Jefferson Clinton, of all people. What he might have made of that relationship had he lived through the Clinton presidency can only be imagined. Even Clinton himself had suggested that he would have continued to rely on Nixon’s advice.
Clinton had been right in his eulogy—Nixon’s entire life deserves to be remembered. And while his ascent to power and use of power as president have been extensively written about, his fall from power and its aftermath also deserve attention. In the last twenty years of his life without the trappings of power, Richard Nixon exercised influence in a way few former presidents have—before or since.
For everyone, life is about overcoming obstacles. And Nixon certainly endured his share of challenges in his twilight years. His health declined, he struggled for years to make money, and he faced the constant torment of the memories of his resignation. Yet through it all he found a new life and a renewed purpose. Without the presidency, he had to rely on his greatest gift—his mind. He wrote nine books, dozens of articles, and gave countless speeches in an attempt to influence foreign policy. The record shows he succeeded beyond what even he probably could have imagined.
He helped guide Reagan toward historic agreements that led to the end of the Cold War. He provided an important public nudge to Bush during the uncertain days following the collapse of Communism. He helped prevent an international crisis—Tiananmen Square—from destroying U.S.-China relations. And he helped Clinton find a policy that would support the reformers in Russia and in former Communist Eastern European countries. Nixon, sensing the end was nearing, had specifically asked that Clinton deliver one of the eulogies at his funeral. He knew that Clinton was perfectly suited to provide the final bit of redemption on his long road back. Throughout this time, Nixon was right and wrong at various points. He was mostly right in his advice to Reagan, although he perhaps worried too much about the impact of Soviet conventional warfare. With Bush he was right to suggest supporting Yeltsin. And with Clinton, he correctly urged the president to look beyond Yeltsin to the next generation. All in all, not a bad scorecard for the elder statesman.
After the Fall Page 23