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by Richard Nixon


  The leak came as a shock because WSAG meetings had been attended by only the highest-ranking members of the military intelligence organizations and the State Department. We learned that Rear Admiral Robert O. Welander believed that one of the leaked documents had to have come from his office, which handled liaison between the Joint Chiefs of Staff and the National Security Council. Bud Krogh and David Young were assigned to investigate.

  Suspicion centered on a young Navy yeoman assigned to Welander’s office. In the course of questioning, Young learned that for some time the yeoman had been making copies of secret NSC documents. He had regularly rifled burn bags for carbons or Xerox copies, and in some cases he actually took documents for copying out of Kissinger’s and Haig’s briefcases. On one occasion he copied a memo of Kissinger’s conversation with Chou En-lai during the first secret mission to Peking. He passed these documents to his superiors in the Pentagon.

  We were not able to establish beyond doubt that the yeoman was Anderson’s source. However, circumstantial evidence was strong. They were personally acquainted and had met on several occasions. Whether or not he had disclosed classified information to Anderson, the fact remained that he had jeopardized the relationship of the JCS to the White House.

  I was disturbed—although not perhaps really surprised—that the JCS was spying on the White House. But I was, frankly, very reluctant to pursue this aspect of the case because I knew that if it were explored, like so many other sensitive matters it would wind up being leaked to the media where it would be completely distorted, and we would end up doing damage to the military at a time when it was already under heavy attack.

  The yeoman himself presented a similar problem. I felt the circumstantial evidence that he had provided information to Anderson was convincing, and I knew that such actions could not be tolerated.

  Diary

  What concerns me about this story is the Ellsberg complex that drove the yeoman to put out the information. His spying on the White House for the Joint Chiefs is something that I would not particularly be surprised at, although I don’t think it’s a healthy practice. But his proceeding to put out top secret information to a newspaper columnist, because he disagreed with the policy on India, is the kind of practice that must, at all costs, be stopped.

  I felt, however, that it would be too dangerous to prosecute the yeoman. He had traveled with Kissinger and others on a number of secret missions and had had access to other top-secret information, which, if disclosed, could have jeopardized our negotiations with China and with North Vietnam. In this respect he was a potential time bomb that might be triggered by prosecution. We had him transferred to a remote post in Oregon and kept him under surveillance, including wiretaps for a time, to make sure that he was not dispensing any more secret information. It worked: there were no further leaks from him.

  SIX GREAT GOALS

  Although Vietnam and other foreign problems dominated most of 1971, this was the year in which I challenged Congress to pass domestic legislation that would result in what I called a “New American Revolution.” Undeterred by Congress’s lack of interest in diffusing power and returning it to the people, I once again urged action on proposals—some of which I had first sent up in 1969—that would begin changing the whole size and shape of the federal government. In my State of the Union address on January 22, 1971, I used blunt language to describe the need for the programs I was proposing. “Let’s face it,” I said. “Most Americans today are simply fed up with government at all levels.”

  In a speech that I consider the most comprehensive and constructive statement on my domestic policy that I made as President, I listed six great goals for the American nation and the American people: welfare reform; full prosperity in peacetime; restoring and enhancing the natural environment; improving health care and making it available more fairly to more people; strengthening and renewing state and local government; and a complete reform of the federal government.

  The response from Congress continued to be disappointing and frustrating. Welfare reform, government reorganization, the comprehensive health care programs, and dozens of other programs and pieces of legislation continued to be casualties of congressional inaction.

  PAT

  Most people would probably say that it takes stamina, strength, or determination to succeed in political life. Pat once said that what political life most requires is “heart”—and she is right. That is true of politics at its best and public life at its finest.

  “Heart” is a combination of personal communication and human understanding that is based on a liking for people because you respect them rather than because you need their votes or their support. It is a quality that Pat possesses in abundance. It was her gift to the White House and to the country from the moment she became First Lady.

  She stepped into the demanding new role without breaking stride. She set up staff offices in the East Wing and took a personal interest in every aspect of the operation of the White House. She was as concerned about having fresh flowers in the public rooms for the daily tours as she was in being completely briefed on every state visitor.

  Each of us loved the White House and looked for ways to share its history and beauty with others, but it was Pat who made it happen.

  She had loudspeakers set up near the fence on the South Grounds so that while they were waiting people standing in line for the tour could hear about the history of the rooms they were about to see. She arranged special tours for the blind that allowed them for the first time to touch the historic objects in the different rooms. Pat also recorded an introduction for the first “talking history” of the White House so that those who could not see it would nevertheless have a sense of sharing and belonging when they were there.

  The girls reflected their mother’s sense of caring and generosity. Tricia, who lived with us until her marriage, tutored young children from one of the city’s elementary schools, and she thought of imaginative ways to bring young people into the White House—meeting with 1,000 Boy Scouts on the South Lawn, having a Halloween party for 350 children from less privileged areas of Washington. In the spring of 1970 she was the hostess for 2,000 children who blanketed the lawn for a concert by the D.C. Youth Orchestra. All this was in addition to her regular schedule of receptions, teas, and speaking engagements.

  During our first summer in the White House, Julie volunteered as a guide at the Visitors Office, taking delighted tourists on special trips through the gardens and up to the historical rooms on the second floor. In the afternoons, she gave special tours for the handicapped. Even when she was studying for a master’s degree and later while an editor for the Saturday Evening Post, she maintained a heavy schedule of speeches and visits throughout the country.

  Pat arranged for private contributions so that the outside of the White House could be illuminated at night for the city’s residents as well as for tourists. Inside, she transformed the House with her unerring sense of color and design, and her extraordinary energy. Working with White House Curator Clement Conger, and Edward V. Jones of Albany, Georgia, an authority on Federal period art, architecture, and furniture, she raised the money to bring more than 500 carefully selected pieces of early American furniture and art to the public rooms of the White House. With Carlisle Humelsine, the head of the Colonial Williamsburg Foundation, she was instrumental in the refurbishment of the West Wing of the White House.

  The girls and I took great pride in the fact that after Pat was finished with her work, the many artists, historians, architects, and decorators who came to visit said that the White House had never looked more beautiful.

  I can take credit for only one innovation in our White House redecorating program. One night as we were arriving home from some social function, I noticed that the flags were flying over many of the federal buildings but not over the White House. My military assistant, Don Hughes, informed me that the flag could be flown at night only if it were lighted. I asked him to have a floodlight installed on the
roof and, from that time on, the flag flew over the White House day and night.

  There is a deep common bond among all those who have shared in life at the White House. Pat and I particularly wanted to make the families of all former Presidents and Vice Presidents, regardless of their party or their politics, feel welcome.

  Pat suggested that we compile a register of all living direct descendants of former Presidents, and over the years we invited many of them to White House functions. In this way we met Calvin Coolidge’s son, some of Grover Cleveland’s grandchildren, Roosevelts from Oyster Bay and Hyde Park, and dozens of Adamses.

  We made sure that approval was given for the Johnson family to have additional Secret Service protection when they traveled abroad. I periodically called Johnson and Humphrey to ask their advice, and sometimes just to chat and let them know I understood the burdens they had borne.

  Pat’s idea of having a visitor to the White House was to visit with them. She has always disliked making formal speeches, and instead of dropping by a reception just long enough to say a few words for the benefit of the reporters and television cameras, she preferred spending her time mixing personally with the guests and talking to them. One afternoon it would be 450 dieticians, then 670 wives of financial leaders from foreign countries, or the 1,200 members of the White House Conference on Food, Nutrition, and Health, or the 350 American Farm Bureau Women.

  It frustrated me that her backbreaking schedule received so little attention from the press. But all that mattered to her was that she had made people feel welcome.

  Each morning Pat would go over some of the more than 1,000 letters she received every week and sign replies to them. She believed that if people took the time to write to her that they deserved a personal reply. In the afternoon, after her regular schedule of receptions and teas, she might take retarded children for a cruise on the Sequoia, or plan a special event such as the Thanksgiving dinner to which she invited hundreds of older citizens—not VIPs, but people who might never have a chance to see the White House otherwise. Then, in the evenings, she would often have some function at the White House or be scheduled to make an appearance somewhere in the city.

  She left us all breathless. By our second year in the White House we had set a record of 50,000 guests.

  There is a modern notion that every First Lady has to have a “project,” one thing with which to be identified. Pat was dedicated to promoting the concept of volunteerism, the idea of people helping each other and not waiting for the government to do things they can do for themselves. But she bridled at the idea that volunteerism was her “project,” or that her interests had to be compartmentalized. She once said, “People are my real project,” and she proved it time and time again.

  She traveled around the country talking with people in every kind of program—programs for young people, for old people, for the handicapped, programs to help children get a head start on reading, programs for city and community beautification. She made over 150 trips out into the country, some with me and many on her own. And not once did she lose sight of the fact that she was not meeting groups, but individuals, not constituencies, but people. I remember being told once about an afternoon when she had been on a tour of a medical facility and stopped to embrace a little girl blinded by rubella. For a few minutes, while the tour waited, she talked to the child and held her close. When someone came over and told her that the child was deaf as well as blind, Pat answered she had known that. “But she knows what love is,” Pat said. “She can feel love.”

  Life in the White House is active and intense. For one thing, it is a city home and there is always the sense and sound of traffic outside. Sometimes there would be the sound of demonstrations. Inside, it often seemed as if there were never any real privacy as the household staff went about their work, and in the basement the kitchens were constantly bustling with preparations for the steady stream of breakfasts, luncheons, teas, receptions, and official dinners.

  We tried at the beginning to cut back on some of the trappings. Pat and I agreed that we should reduce the number of stewards and aides who surround a President wherever he goes. I told Haldeman to have the two Navy medics who had served full time as the President’s masseurs reassigned to some more productive duty. I immediately stopped what was to me the almost incredible practice of having the President’s bed from the White House flown ahead whenever he traveled outside Washington so that he would never have to sleep in a strange bed. I said that I would need only Manolo and possibly one steward to take care of my clothes and meals when I went on weekend working trips to Camp David or Key Biscayne. We ordered the decommissioning of the two large Navy yachts that had been maintained exclusively for the President’s use. We also tried to cut down on the numbers and security requirements of the Secret Service who were always with us.

  But even so, life in the White House was confining, and this made the home we bought in summer 1969 for our retirement in San Clemente even more special for us. It is an old Spanish house situated on a beautiful high point directly above the beach. The constant sound of the waves gives it serenity, and the palm and eucalyptus trees surrounding it provide natural protection that made it possible for us to take at least semi-private walks. We named the house La Casa Pacifica—the Peaceful House. A small complex of offices was built on the Coast Guard station next door, and these became the Western White House.

  Because of the distance we were able to visit San Clemente only a few times a year. More often we would go for a weekend to Key Biscayne or to Camp David. In some respects, Pat ran three households—in Washington, California, and Florida—and she made each of them a home for us even if we were there for only a few days.

  Over the years of our life in politics, Pat’s strength of character continued to grow, and her gentle sensitivity to people became even more acute. She was often criticized by feminist radicals of the women’s liberation movement, but she held to her guiding principle: the right of a woman to choose her role in life. And by her actions she proved that it was possible to be both an independent woman and a supportive wife. She was not at all dismayed when she was sometimes accused of being inhibited. In personal encounters she is lively, informal, and witty, but she felt that it was important for a First Lady to be dignified. She recognized that the role is in many ways a representative one. She was traditional, but in a warm way that transcended time and place. And, most important, she was comfortable with herself, sure of herself in a world of rapidly changing values.

  During the vice presidential years, Pat and I had traveled together to fifty-three countries. Eisenhower used to think of us as a team—and so did I. While I spent the days in meetings, she went to meet the local people in schools, hospitals, factories, orphanages. I remember the awe and respect on the faces of our hosts in Panama when she insisted on visiting and shaking hands with the tragic inhabitants of a leper colony there.

  At night, she would come back to our rooms in time to change into a gown for glittering state dinners.

  Pat became for thousands of people abroad the personification of American good will: it was there in her voice, her smile, her eyes. That spoke to the people in the countries we visited in a way that speeches, toasts, and communiqués never could.

  Pat was the first First Lady to serve as the President’s official diplomatic representative abroad. In this capacity she went to Peru to take supplies gathered by volunteer workers in America to the victims of a devastating earthquake. Braving danger and enduring fatigue, she climbed amid the rubble to embrace homeless children and bring a message of American love and concern. In gratitude for this trip, the President of Peru invested her with the Grand Cross of the Order of the Sun, the oldest decoration in the Americas. She was the first North American woman ever to receive this signal honor.

  During our trips to China and the summits in the Soviet Union, Pat showed her mastery of the art of personal diplomacy. She shook hands with dancing bears at the circus, drew children to her in schools and
hospitals, visited communes, factories, department stores, and danced a step with the Bolshoi Ballet school.

  In 1974, she led the U.S. delegation to the inaugural ceremonies for the President of Venezuela and the President of Brazil. In 1972 she represented me in Africa at the inauguration of the President of Liberia and then traveled on for meetings with the heads of state in Ghana and the Ivory Coast. She returned home from Africa on January 9.

  Diary

  Pat was obviously elated by her trip. She was particularly impressed by the President of the Ivory Coast. She pointed out that he did not believe in using force against South Africa, and I realized that this is the reason that many in the State Department don’t like him because he does not take the usual line which is totally anti-South Africa without regard to the consequences, even if it means a war which no one would win.

  I have concluded, after having grave doubts about the independence movements in Africa, that perhaps it is best to allow these countries to start with their first faltering steps and learn to walk alone. They are going to mess a lot of things up but it allows them to have dignity and develop capability which comes only from having responsibility. They would never acquire it in a colonial status or in a dependent status.

  The amazing thing is that Pat came back looking just as fresh as a daisy despite an enormously difficult, taxing schedule. She had press conferences in each country, had had conversations with the Presidents, and then carried it all off with unbelievable skill.

 

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