But the more information I gathered, the less certain I was about what I wanted to say about Richard Nixon. What could I possibly say that was new or even interesting about a man who was a legend in his lifetime and , since his death in 1994, has gained  mythical status. W. H. Auden once wrote of Sigmund Freud that he eventually became “a climate of opinion”. Much the same can be said about Nixon: wherever one stands on the political spectrum, his triumphs, his personality, his contradictions, his failures, and his complexity still serve as a background to current political debates. Want to talk about China? Nixon is there. Political comebacks? Nixon got there first. Presidential campaigns? Nixon lost once and won twice, and there isn’t a single facet of modern campaigning in the electronic age he didn‘t experience first, from media problems to organizing a campaign. Is there a current presidential candidate whose personality and record can quickly bring a political discussion to a boiling point? Nixon forced us to choose sides. Nixon, in a strange way, is still here, not just an historical figure but, in a sense, a living presence. Love him, hate him, you can’t ignore him because while his place among American presidents is open to scholarly debate, his ability to make us choose reminds us that politics is as much about passion as it is about policy.

So, what can I say about Nixon? I solved that problem when I came across two small photos. They are of importance to no one except my family, but I think they say something about Richard Nixon that many people don’t know

The first photo was taken at the 1968 convention in Miami Beach. I believe it was taken by my good friend, the late Mort Allin, a wonderful man, whose invaluable service to President Nixon is known to all of us who worked in the White House. The photo itself is dark, not a great work of art, but it does the job. In the foreground are three people, their backs turned to the camera. But in the background, ‘way back there, is Richard Nixon , looking at me. We are standing there alone. He is wearing a blue suit, and has his arms folded across his chest. He is looking into my face with interest, as one would in conversation. I have my back to the camera. I am wearing a brown plaid jacket and light pants. In my left hand I hold a black attaché case that my wife, Katherine, had given to me as a Christmas present when I was teacher.

In my interview with Jon, I explain why Nixon was talking to (or, in the photo, listening to) me. I had made a contribution to his acceptance speech and he was thanking me for what I had done. A small gesture, known only to those on the Nixon campaign staff, but a gesture that says so much about Richard Nixon, the man, not the political figure. He just wanted to say thanks, and he found time to do so.

The second photo was taken by Katherine at King Of Prussia, Pennsylvania, during the 1968 campaign. Pennsylvania, then as now, was an important campaign stop, and Nixon was there to speak at a big rally. It so happened that at the time I was living in Abington, a suburb of Philadelphia, not far from King of Prussia. Katherine met me at the rally, with our two daughters, Alison , five, and Nancy, four. Just before Nixon was about to climb the steps to the platform where he would speak, he saw Katherine holding a camera. He stopped, asked someone to stand out of the way, and Katherine snapped the photo

Nixon is on the left, just finishing signing an autograph. Next to him is Pat Nixon , looking at me. And I am holding Nancy in my right arm and Alison in my left.

Snap.

And there we are, if not forever, then at least as long as the photo lasts. Richard Nixon, caught in act of random kindness, Pat Nixon looking on. And there I am, young, smiling, happy. Nancy is looking at the camera and Alison is looking at Nixon.

Two photos, two memories. Nothing to do with geopolitics, international intrigue, domestic polices, nothing at all. Just a very important man taking the time to do something nice. My mother had a little saying: “Kindliness is always remembered”. And William Wordsworth said something similar when he wrote of:

“. . .that best portion of a good man’s life

His little nameless, unremembered acts

Of kindness and of love. . “

Unremembered? Nixon had a phenomenal memory. Yet even he could have forgotten those quickly passing moments. But I remember, I remember.

Click here for an exclusive interview with Gavin on his new memoir, Speechwright: An Insider’s Take on Political Rhetoric.

Click here to order Speechwright today.

William F. Gavin, the author of “Speechwright: An Insiders Take on Political Rhetoric” served as a speech writer to Presidents Nixon and Reagan, Senator James Buckley, and House Minority Leader Robert Michel.

For five Christmases, Mrs. Nixon oversaw and approved the decorating of the White House in all aspects. She ordered wreaths by the dozens, including four measuring 50 inches each, and sixteen special ones reserved for the windows looking out to Pennsylvania Avenue. Garland, holly, and “poinsettia trees” were in abundance; there was even a pear tree, complete with partridge.

As the bright chandelier lights were replaced by festive red bulbs, pastry chefs Heinz Bender and Hans Raffert added the final touches to their Gingerbread House, displayed prominently in the State Dining Room. Begun by Mrs. Nixon in 1969, the tradition continues today, as these holiday customs are among her most lasting legacies.

The most popular addition was opening the White House for candlelit evening tours. Julie Nixon Eisenhower recounted that because so many Americans would be working and unable to see the decorations, Mrs. Nixon opened the house at night. She said she wanted visitors to tour the mansion’s famous rooms, “so filled with history, and now aglow with the magic and spirit of Christmas.” Army, Navy, and Air Force bands contributed to the ambiance by playing Christmas Carols in the Grand Foyer, which over 20,000 people enjoyed annually.

The decorations weren’t the only things that set the Nixon White House apart; as the White House hostess, Mrs. Nixon’s calendar was full of dozens of parties, large and small, as well as Sunday Worship Services.

The President’s penchant for Christmas festivities was well known among his staff; said one aide: “When the President gets going on Christmas, there’s no stopping him.” Well, not quite. In 1970, as Mrs. Nixon was showing him the decorations, he tried to break off a piece of the Gingerbread House. “Don’t you dare!” said Mrs. Nixon – he didn’t.

I am perhaps biased because I was a member of President Nixon’s administration, first on a Presidential committee and then as a White House aide on communications involving the U.S. Spanish Speaking community.

Until Nixon, it was mostly about Mexican-Americans and even then centered more on what they could contribute politically than about their socio-economic needs. Nixon put all U.S. Latinos—Mexicans, Puerto Ricans, and Cubans–under one umbrella coalescing wants and needs and making them part of the American fabric.

He deserved better for his opening to Latinos just as he did for his realpolitik with China, but on the former, he was met with contentiousness and skepticism despite his good intentions.

In October, some of Nixon’s old (literally) Latino hands met at his Presidential Library in Yorba Linda, California for a symposium on President Nixon’s Latino legacy and the work of his Cabinet Committee on Opportunities for Spanish-Speaking People.

I participated as a former White House aide along with Martin Castillo, Nixon’s Special Assistant and the committee’s first chairman, and his successor, Dr. Henry Ramirez. It also included CCOSS members, Manuel Oliverez, and G. G. Garcia; economic development leader, Theresa Speake, and voter outreach consultants, David Gonzales and Stuart K. Spencer. Hosted by the Nixon Foundation, we weren’t there as apologists but to explore the effects of Nixon’s programs for Latinos and take measure of this efforts.

Detractors cast Nixon’s programs as being all about politics. We prefer to define it as the politics of integration and assistance. It focused particularly on his involvement with this under served minority group, an effort which some of his detractors to this day continue to deride and disparage. It’s a misguided but not surprising attitude.  Nixon did not exploit or abuse whatever involvement and success he had with the Spanish Speaking community.

Before the advent of the modern Latino in the early sixties, there was only one viable class of this Spanish speaking minority– the Southwest’s Mexican Americans. Puerto Ricans were still on the fringes and the Cuban Diaspora was about to start. The Caribbeans and Central Americans were at that time inconsequential. Until then, our national leaders, Democrat or Republican, had spectacularly ignored the Latinos because they were a politically apathetic group with little rate of return.

The Latino political awakening has it genesis in the 1960 Kennedy campaign through its “Viva Kennedy” organizations. Except for the few campaign “pachangas,” Kennedy’s involvement with Latinos, can hardly be termed inclusive or participatory. Kennedy, with his Boston Brahmin lineage, was barely conversant with Latino minority issues and won its support mainly because he was a Democrat and because he was Catholic.

Texan Lyndon B. Johnson had a closer affinity but he operated with a master-vassal mentality allowing himself to appropriate a few low-level, sub-cabinet appointments. LBJ did achieve major reform legislation with his Civil Rights Act of 1965 which was of significant importance to Black Americans and also to Latinos because of its ripple effect.

Nixon, of a California Quaker background, didn’t have a close association with Latinos growing up or when he started his political career. However, Nixon was able to grasp the Latino problems and their frustrations and when he won the presidency wanted to include them in his reform agenda even though they did not support him.

Entered Nixon’s Latino forces led by Castillo using his counselor abilities to make the case and Ramirez with his academic background and civil rights experience to shape the projects, giving authenticity to Nixon’s pronouncements.

The Latino strategy under Nixon was not to vie for glorified Cabinet positions but to go for the mid-level jobs in key departments where most of the federal programs and funding were developed. Toward the end of Nixon’s first term, his Latino team had placed over 75 of its own in government executive level positions where the wheeling and dealing occurred.

In another key accomplishment, Nixon stipulated that Latinos be counted as a separate minority group in the U.S. Census thus making them more identifiable and eligible for government sponsored programs and minority enterprise.

There were other projects in the works when Nixon’s reign came to a spectacular end over Watergate. I had left the White House a few months earlier but not before I answered a subpoena from the Watergate Grand Jury which wanted to know about my work and any dirty tricks I might have known about.

There were none but the Watergate appearance was costly considering my lawyers’ fees. I was absolved and in retrospect, I didn’t mind the targeting and the inconvenience. We were believers in the mission President Nixon assigned us in assisting the Latino minority. It was a worthy task.

Photo: The author (left) behind the President with Dr. Henry Ramirez, the second Chairman of the Cabinet Committee on Opportunities for Spanish-Speaking People.

As an adult, these letters remain unique in their content and remarkable given the recipient. I would be interested in learning from presidential scholars the number of high school seniors and college newspaper writers who ever received personal letters from a President of the United States who they did not know and came from a family with absolutely no political connections.

Part of the answer to that challenge is that I received several such letters as a high school senior in New York in 1969 and, later, as a student editorial writer at Georgetown University. How this happened is a story that I have been asked to write as my adult children and historians contemplate the complex legacy of Richard Nixon.

Forty-­one years is a very long time. It is an average lifespan in many parts of the developing world. But my memory of those times remains vivid because of the unprecedented era in which we were living. There was a war in Vietnam where Americans were dying with no end in sight or exit strategy; rioting in the streets of our major cities as people fought for their civil rights; tumult in our major universities as students eligible for a dreaded draft call violently protested for an end to the war; a riot at the Democratic National Convention in Chicago; the recent assassinations of a young President, his brother, and the cherished founding leader of the civil rights movement; and the challenges of a nuclear holocaust made real by a recent confrontation over missiles in Cuba.

It was not, to paraphrase Ronald Reagan, morning in America.

Like many people of my generation, I heard the call to political activism with the caveat that I was a conservative and a strong supporter of our military soldiers who, in many instances, were serving in an Army as draftees and fighting a war that no one seemed to want. During the summers of my high school years, along with hundreds of other young Americans, I participated in high school forums in Washington to tour the nation’s capitol and attend a model United Nations.

I graduated from high school in 1970. In the fall of my senior year, I organized a small group of friends to march in support of our soldiers in Vietnam and of the President’s policies that successfully ended United States participation in the war. The whole event lasted about thirty minutes in White Plains, New York. I guess that a lot of other students were not out organizing events like this one, so we got some publicity in the local newspapers in Westchester County.

About a month later, my mother opened the mail at home and found a letter addressed to her 17 year old son on pale green stationary.

“Dear Jeff”, President Nixon wrote, “I was very pleased to note your recent activities to organize support for my efforts to bring the Vietnam conflict to an end.”

How this information ever got to the President was something I would learn about later. However, I never figured out how the White House found my home address.

The letter goes on to thank me for “your work” to bring the country closer to the President’s goal of ending the war.

I was astonished. My parents did not know what to make of it. I was interested in going to college in Washington and am convinced that a copy of this letter stapled to my application to attend Georgetown University helped gain my admission. How does one ever say thank you for something so gracious? I hope in writing about this personal communication so many years later that I have finally found the forum in which to extend those thanks.

I am leaving it to the Presidential scholars to tell us how many other high school seniors ever received a letter like this one but, in my case, it was not the last time.

So there is more to tell and, thus, a larger challenge for our scholars.

When I arrived at Georgetown as a freshman, a friend told me that the White House was looking for some free help and asked if I was interested. I said yes and was introduced to a fellow Hoya, Pat Buchanan, and his aide – Mort Allin – who asked if I could help them on a part time basis to put together the President’s Daily News Summary.

In learning about this news summary, I solved the question on how President Nixon had learned of my high school political activities.

Through my sophomore year in college, I would come by the Old Executive Office building in between classes to help cut, paste, and Xerox the President’s news summary in Mort Allin’s office. I did this along with a variety of other young interns and volunteers.

That was pretty much the sum total of my career at the White House where I have never returned. However, it was not the end of the letters that I received from President Nixon.

At Georgetown, I continued my interest in writing and became an editor for the Georgetown Voice where I wrote numerous columns on the political issues of the day. Because of my conservative views, these columns inspired controversy. To my surprise, I found out that someone else was reading these articles who was neither a Hoya nor a student.

I never asked but always presumed that either Mort or Pat put some of my college newspaper columns into the President’s news summary. In February 1973, I went to my mailbox at Georgetown and found another pale green letter.

“Dear Mr. Volk”, President Nixon wrote, “This is just a note to say that I recently enjoyed the opportunity to read your column “History Will Be Kind to U.S. War Effort” which appeared in the Georgetown Voice.” Finding my address was easier this time because the letter was addressed to me at Georgetown and the mailman must have figured out my box number.

I am not sure if it was this letter or another one that I received in March 1974 that we ran as a “letter to the editor” in the Voice but regardless it created a lot of controversy. The letter in March 1974 pretty much summed up everything that I have just described and was the last letter that I received from President Nixon.

“Dear Jeff” the President wrote, “It is surprising, I must admit when I sometimes find the Georgetown Voice mentioned in the news summary. In this instance, it was a pleasant experience to read your column of March 5 arguing forcefully in my behalf. I thought your piece offered an important perspective to the readers – and was a courageous statement in these very impassioned times.”

I treasure these letters and marvel at how unique I believe them to be. But there is still one other story that I do want to tell. Some years after resigning the Presidency, President Nixon moved to New York. He met my dad who worked for the GSA (General Services Administration) and was helping to arrange the President’s new office. My Dad told the President how proud he was of me and told him about my experiences in Mort Allin’s office.

The President asked for my address and a few weeks later I received in the mail a copy of his memoirs autographed to “Jeffrey Volk with best wishes for the years ahead.” This time I was not surprised.

President Nixon was a complex and nuanced individual. By the time he resigned office, the United States had begun to talk to China, started the nuclear arms process that ended our nuclear confrontation with the Soviet Union, successfully exited the war in Vietnam, ended the draft, and gave eighteen year-olds the right to vote. In Washington today, Nixon’s legacy lives on in the Environmental Protection Agency, OSHA, and the National Cancer Institute.

The White House tapes, Watergate, and impeachment hearings  are critical parts of that legacy and should not be forgotten or glossed over. They diminished the Presidency and for those who admire President Nixon, present the ultimate conundrum.

However, President Nixon’s legacy is as complex as the man and the difficult times in which he was chosen to lead the country. The accomplishments of the Nixon Administration are remarkable because of the brevity of his tenure, the complex issues that tore at the fabric of American society, and the politicized environment that accompanied RN’s election as President. I believe my letters demonstrate an important part of that complex personality through his kindness and interest in a young American.

Jeffrey Volk is a private investor and lives in New York City with his wife and family.

As you know, they are an amazing group of very knowledgeable and supportive representatives of the life and career of President Nixon. Many of them have told me that they love hearing our personal stories about the Nixons.

Ron does a fine imitation of President Nixon, and he peppers his stories with amazing impersonations of the former President. Those of you that have seen him in action, know what I am talking about. Our friend Warren Adler saw “Nixon in China” in New York and called to tell Ron that he did a better impersonation than the guy in the production. Could a stint on Broadway be in his future, the next time he flunks retirement?

I told the story of President Nixon meeting with Mexican President Diaz Ordaz in Puerto Vallarta. The President had been traveling non-stop, which meant that Ron and many other aides had been away from home a great deal. Bob Haldeman took pity on some of us and invited us to travel to Puerto Vallarta and have a few days of rest and recreation. Susie Chapin, Inge Elbourne, Pat Brennan and I were the lucky ladies. The State Department loaned us two dune buggies and we explored the beautiful beaches and mountains of Mexico. We stayed for several days at the charming, but long-gone “Garza Blanca” right on the beach. When the days of fun and sun ended, we returned to the official hotel, the “Camino Real.” President and Mrs. Nixon arrival day dawned. “El Biggo Dayo” we called it.

Us girls were asked to disappear, and we were glad to, but requested one of the dune buggies for our getaway. I, the only one experienced driving a vehicle with a stick shift, took the wheel. We had admired the wonderful paintings of local artist, Leppe, and we wanted to visit his gallery. The artist had a whimsical style and did several paintings with American and Mexican flags to commemorate the historic meeting. We wanted to see if we could afford any of his painting with the flags.

When we found the street where the gallery was located, we were shocked and horrified to find the street closed. Having been in the country for a few days, we were very impressed with our own ability to speak the native language, and argued heatedly with the Mexican policeman telling us we couldn’t enter that street. “Muy importante,” we told him. “El biggo appointamente,” we said heatedly as we pointed to our watches. It worked. He shook his head and moved the saw horses that had been blocking the intersection. We were thrilled and proud of ourselves.

When we matched the address of the gallery with the storefront, we couldn’t believe our eyes. It was CLOSED. Why would they close it? It was an important day for both countries. Why would the artist want to lose potential business? Then we looked around. All the stores were closed. It was then that we realized we were the only vehicle on the street. Then we saw IT. A parade was headed right for us. Motorcycles, cars with flashing lights, flags, buses . . . . realization hit. It was the President’s motorcade and it was headed right toward us.

Now, we had a choice. I could pull a U-turn and lead the motorcade. Or . . . we could sit where we were and let the entire Presidential entourage pass by. There is no place to hide in a dune buggy. There are no doors to duck behind or windows to roll up. We were four blondes trying to hide in plain sight. We froze. We were caught red faced and red handed.

Ron and Dwight were in the pilot car, clapping their hands in slow motion applause. All they said to us was, “Great way to disappear, girls.” The President and Mrs. Nixon were riding in a convertible. He didn’t say a word, but his face said it all. Mrs. Nixon, always gracious and loving to us, said, “You girls look so cute.”

All the people on the buses were laughing and waving.

We didn’t think it was funny until several minutes later. Then we couldn’t stop laughing. The hilarity of the whole experience overwhelmed us and we had to exit the dune buggy to clutch our stomachs and bend over to accommodate the belly laughs. I promise you, we really did think we were disappearing as requested.

Can you imagine doing that today? In the first place, we probably could never “talk our way” into a secure area, and even if we did, we probably would have been taken out by roof top snipers. I have been on the street in Washington DC a couple of times when President Obama’s motorcade is on the move. Streets are totally cleared for several, long minutes before his arrival. Traffic on side streets is blocked off. Pedestrians are told to stay on the sidewalk and “cease all movement.” Police people yell at the tourists, “You, in the brown coat, stand still.”

Then, finally, he goes flying by in a blur of frantic limo dust action. Tourists wave. “Did you see him”, they ask each other? Bureaucrats and local residents release a collective sigh and go on about their day. It’s the way of life in our nation’s capitol these days.

I wouldn’t have missed the way we got to experience Presidential motorcades for all the tequila in Mexico!

I tried hard to find the Nixon/Kumquat historical background, but alas, there doesn’t seem to be anything too major. The home where the 37th President was born (the very first baby born in Yorba Linda) was a citrus grove. His father, Frank Nixon worked hard to earn a living as a citrus farmer, but it was a tough task. After interviewing several docents and long-time staffers, it was decided that Hannah Nixon, the President’s mother, must have had at least one kumquat tree somewhere close. I found an old reference to “Hannah’s Kumquat Kitchen,” but no other information was included. We have to assume that she cooked with some of the fruit that surrounded her home.

When the library grounds were taking shape, the landscapers wanted to honor it’s “citrus roots”. Unfortunately, the only citrus tree that could take the large amount of water necessary for all the other plantings, and especially Mrs. Nixon’s roses, was the hearty, tolerant kumquat tree. Kevin Cartwright, involved in those decisions, says the kumquat came to represent all the ancestral citrus species that once lived on the site. Hazel Betts, a master gardener docent, and Bob Lyons, an original docent, still very much involved in the day to day activities, confirms this as well.

Coyote Base has been smelling way-orangey-sweet for almost a week now. When eating a kumquat right off the tree, the experience is a total flavor burst in the mouth. First the sweet rind, then the sour fruit. Wowser, wowser. It kind of makes your eyes water and your lips pucker. So, that’s the reason we decided to cook them.

Kumquats are native to China and arrived in California around 1880. Today the state grows the most kumquats in this country, on about 133 acres of kumquat groves. While not widely available in grocery stores, we saw some at the Yorba Linda farmer’s market. We also planted a kumquat tree in our Tucson yard.

We tried several different recipes, and decided the best, and least labor intensive was this one, that we chose to call “Presidential Kumquat Marmalade.” So here it is, if you want to make some for yourself.

RECIPE:
Yield: 8 cups

Ingredients
2 lbs kumquats (4 cups)
1 lime
1 lemon
3 1/2 cups sugar
6 cups of water
1 tsp vanilla
8 1/2-pint mason jars

PREPARATION
Squeeze lemon and lime. Gather the juice and pulp.
Wash and dry kumquats.
Thinly slice them.
Remove seeds (HINT: If you cut in half, not length-wise, seeds will be on one side. I know, we were amazed too!)
Place sliced kumquats, all juice, water and sugar in a pot.
Bring to a boil.
Lower heat to medium low and cook for 15 minutes.
Remove from heat, content should be syrupy.
Cover, set aside and let sit overnight at room temperature.
Next day, bring kumquat syrup to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer to desired thickness. (Our first batch was a little watery.) Then we learned to cook it to a beautiful dark brown orange color.
Stir once in awhile, using a wooden spoon
Bring to a boil again.
Skim off any foam that develops.
Add vanilla.
Fill mason jars with marmalade.
Fill a big pot of water and bring to just under a boil. Place filled jars in water and boil for 10 minutes.
If you want to freeze the marmalade, you can skip the “canning” process.

To one batch, we added red pepper, ginger, cumin, cinnamon, apples and raisins to make a delicious chutney.

We pureed one batch and froze it for future cookies, cakes, etc.

And, how about a kumquat marmalade cocktail? Don’t laugh. General Omar Bradley invented a drink using orange marmalade. He favored orange slices in his bourbon, and when he was posted to some remote area of the world, there weren’t any fresh oranges. He noticed a jar of orange marmalade on the table and the resulting cocktail was named for him. It is delicious with scotch also.

Our final kumquat kount:
32 jars of kumquat marmalade
4 jars of kumquat chutney
1 large zip lock bag of pureed kumquat preserves.

We will be sharing the end product with the folks at the Library. We hope everyone will think the marmalade is as delicious as we do. It was a big project, but a fun salute to “Hannah’s Kumquat Kitchen,” and the hearty fruit that has come to represent Frank Nixon’s citrus grove, the boyhood yard of the 37th President of the United States. Kudos to the Kumquat!

Harvesting kumquats on the Library grounds.

The theme this year was “Girl Scouts Go Green”. Ron, wearing his President of the Foundation hat, was one of the judges for the “recycled art contest.” Today’s young people are amazing, creative and innovated. Using “trash” and imagination, they made American flags, villages, people, animals, panorama’s and posters. The message was clear. Anything and everything can become a work of art. The other judges were Nancy Nygren, head of the Orange County Girl Scout Council, Dr. Tim Naftali, head of the archives at the Nixon library, and Anthony Curtis, Assistant Chief Operating Officer of the Nixon Foundation.

Thelma Catherine Ryan was born just before midnight on March 16, 1912. According to her daughter Julie’s book “Pat Nixon, The Untold Story,” her thoroughly Irish father, Will Ryan, decided to celebrate a day later, St. Patrick’s Day. He said, “Well, she was there in the morning, my St. Patrick’s Babe in the morning.”

Thelma Ryan’s childhood was a time of great loss and hard work. She was only 14 when her mother died of cancer. Four years later her father died. Will had asked his oldest son to “take care of Babe.” The three Ryans did indeed stick together. In the fall of 1931, she registered at Fullerton Junior College as Patricia Ryan. Julie says that she and her sister, Tricia, learned in the 1960 campaign that their mother’s name had once been Thelma. When they asked their mother about it, she said “Patricia was my father’s favorite name, and she told them she wasn’t Thelma anymore, she was Pat.

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She and her father were so right. She WAS Pat. Our wonderful First Lady Pat. She just wasn’t a Thelma, at least not to me.

In 1969, President and Mrs. Nixon were on a helicopter, flying over the National Mall in Washington, DC. She commented on the eyesore of row after row of quonset huts still being used as “temporary offices.” She asked the President to see if they could be removed. The huts were soon gone, and the Mall is now a beautiful place that makes all of us proud. The Richard Nixon Foundation and key people in our Nation’s Capitol are working with Congress to designate a small portion, “The Pat Nixon Memorial Garden.” She is deserving of the honor and it would make us so happy to see her finally get some long, overdue recognition.

This picture, taken in 1943 or 44, was what Mrs. Nixon saw on the Mall in 1969! I remember seeing it as well, and thinking how really ugly it looked.

Another favorite Mrs. Nixon story is the one President Nixon wrote about in RN, The Memoirs of Richard Nixon. He wrote in his diary during his 1974 trip to the Soviet Union, that he and Pat had dinner alone on the balcony outside their room.

Diary:

As we looked out at sea, there was a three-quarter moon. Pat said that since she was a very little girl, when she looked at the moon, she didn’t see a man in the moon or an old lady in the moon – always the American flag. This, of course, was years before anybody ever thought of a man actually being on the moon or an American flag being there.

She pointed it out to me and, sure enough, I could see an American flag in the moon. Of course, you can see in the moon whatever you want to see.”

I like to think I can see Pat Nixon’s American flag on the moon.

We celebrate her life, her many accomplishments, and her legacy every day at the Nixon Library and Birthplace. Her presence is felt throughout the Museum. Her quiet dignity is evident too.

Al’s career has been quite amazing. He was an aide to General Douglas MacArthur and Cyrus Vance, Secretary of the Army under President Kennedy, deputy national security advisor and Chief of Staff under President Nixon, and Secretary of State under President Reagan, to name just some of his resume highlights.

During the Nixon White House years, I was privileged to get to know Pat Haig. Not only is she beautiful, in a Grace Kelly-esque sense, she is a gracious and friendly lady. It was always such a pleasure to sit with her on a plane, or see her at a social gathering.

In 1978, Ron and I were invited to re-trace President Nixon’s 1972 historic trip to the People’s Republic of China. Travel visa’s to the PRC were still scarce, but after an event at the Chinese liaison office, Han Hsu suggested that we should visit his country. He told us he would send us visa’s. Some of you may not know that Han Hsu was a close aide to Cho En-lai, and Ron’s counterpart as the two countries prepared for their leaders to visit. Dwight Chapin was the White House contact person responsible for the President’s trip, and Ron’s boss. Han Hsu also sent visas to Dwight and Susie Chapin. We were told to be in Tokyo on May 21, 1978 to catch Iran Air flight #801 to Peking.

As we talked about making this trip, we discovered that Pan Am Flight #2 went around the world for less total cost than a single round trip flight to Tokyo. And so we booked Pan Am, leaving New York on May first. Of course, we spent more money on the ground than we saved, but it was six weeks of non-stop adventure that was worth every penny. Our first stop was London. Upon arrival, we had a message from General Haig, then the Supreme Allied Commander of NATO, living in Monns, Belgium, inviting us to visit. We had planned a week of traveling around Europe, so after arriving in Frankfurt, we immediately headed for Monns. It was a 5 and a half hour drive on the Autobahn, in our little rental car. Cars whizzed by us and Ron felt like he should get out and make sure we were moving.

You must remember that this was before GPS devices, but we had maps. Ron and Dwight would take turns driving, and the non-driver was the navigator. Susie and I took up nesting-rights in the back seat, and spent most of each hour laughing at the hilarious exchanges going on between driver and navigator. Their pronunciations of the road signs were especially funny. They argued about the various “austfahrt” whizzing by and if they missed a turn, it was always the other guys fault. We went across the German/Belguim border check point three times, because we couldn’t figure out how to get back on the main road. We finally decided they must have thought we were smuggling little yellow cars from one country to the other.

When we got to Monns, we had a hard time finding the Haig’s Chateau. We were lost in a residential area when a car pulled out of a garage and Dwight said the driver looked like he spoke english. Ron jumped out and asked the man if he knew where General Haig lived? Blank stare. Then Ron pantomimed all the decorations on his hat and the row of stars on his shoulders. A-ha! He pointed and gestured and we were off, soon to find our destination.

Their home was used as a German Headquarters during the war and renovated when General Goodpaster was head of NATO. We had lovely rooms, with the Haig’s White House and military mementos all around. Dinner was beautiful and delicious; cheese soup, steak, fried potato balls, salad, green beans, red wine and sherbet for dessert. (If you wonder how I can be so precise, it is because my mother saved the letter I wrote, complete with the menu.)

General Haig talked a great deal about the days just before the President resigned. I wrote to our family that he said he was in charge at the White House during those days. (Honest) He talked a great deal about it, almost as if he was so happy to have people that he could talk about it with.

We all had breakfast together the next morning at 7:45. The general was in his 4 star uniform, as he had a 9:00 meeting that morning with the Danish press. We left soon after he did, and talked a great deal about how candid he had been with us, and how it was so obvious that he trusted us and knew we would not betray his confidences. We never have.

I must admit, that when he announced that he was in charge after President Reagan was shot, I thought about how he’d been in charge of another White House, after another traumatic incident.

To this day, our family occasionally uses the “Haig-in-charge” reference. Just this past Christmas, while fixing Julia Child’s Boeuf Bourguignon, Marja made it clear that she was the “Al Haig of this cooking project.” Seems that the one who thinks of being in charge first, announces it, indeed gets to be the General! And this was a fun project, because we said everyone had to talk just like Julia the entire time the famous dish was being prepared. It was hilarious.

Through the years, Al and Pat Haig came to parties at our home, and we always enjoyed seeing them. A very memorable time was one year at our sometimes annual “Cinco de Mayo” party when Al regaled our daughters friends with stories from the days that he and Ron flew helicopters together in Vietnam. Despite Al’s colorful descriptions, it didn’t happen. Ron’s branch of the army was armored, (think tanks), and he was an airborne officer assigned to a psychological warfare unit on Okinawa, Thailand and Vietnam. The only time he and Al ever served together was in the Nixon White House.

Al was famous for loving to use big words and weaving long sentences together. He had a friendly, running word-smith battle with Secretary of Commerce Malcolm Baldrige.

When I worked for Secretary Baldrige, he stressed the importance of the government speaking in “plain English.” He had a list of his “no-no words” and if someone entered them in the Office of Public Affairs computers, they came out as capitalized X’s. Words like “maximize,”"utilize” or “effectuate” The Secretary thought making his people write in plain English was just simple, good management. He also despised redundancies such as “serious crisis,” “future plans,” “new initiatives” or “end result”

I tell you this because Baldrige liked to talk about Al Haig. He would say, “Now Al can be just as direct and straightforward as anybody. But when he thought the occasion demanded it, he could obfuscate or cloud up the answer by the way he used the language. I’ve had a lot of fun with Al.”

The secretary told his Alexander Haig story so often that it was filed with his speeches with the single word “Haig.” He would start out speeches by saying that he was “sorry that my friend Al Haig could not have attended today. But he sends his regrets. ‘I deeply regret that I am unable to optimize this point in time to achieve a meaningful interface with your multifaceted organization in its function of facilitating clear and direct articulation of the English language system.’ Then Baldrige would pause, look at his audience and say, ” I think he means he won’t be able to make it.”

Secretary Baldrige instructed us staffers to write in a style halfway between Ernest Hemingway and Zane Grey, and to use no “Bureaucratise.” We bought up every paperback by Grey we could find in the blocks around the Commerce Department, trying to make sure we knew what was expected of us.

I learned a great deal from my Baldrige experience, but in the long run I think we write like we write and we talk like we talk. It makes us, well, us. General Haig had an amazing vocabulary and he seemed to delight in stringing lots of words together in one sentence. One evening as he spoke to a group of Korn/Ferry International partners and spouses, at the end of a very long sentence, I turned to Ron and said, “Huh?” He quietly suggested I zip my lip, and I did.

General Haig was a true patriot and memorable man who served his country well. He will be missed.
——————–

Anne Walker, author of China Calls: Paving The Way For Nixon’s Historic Journey to China and wife of Foundation President Ron Walker

My new book, An American Amnesia is the story of President Nixon’s pursuit, and how the 93rd Congress attempted to thwart his pursuit and how, after he left office, the 94th Congress forced the surrenders of South Vietnam and Cambodia.

My introduction to the book follows:

An American Amnesia: How the U.S. Congress Forced the Surrenders of South Vietnam and Cambodia

INTRODUCTION

Like all times, the 1960s and the 1970s will someday be so long ago that the world will be vacant of anyone who lived through them. Now, however, those decades are not so distant, and under ordinary conditions the years ahead would provide more than sufficient time to record the truth of those years. No rush; there would be plenty of opportunity to do that. But the conditions are not ordinary, as already there has developed a self-induced American amnesia so deep and so widespread that many in the new generation are being educated by teachers who inject their students with a hypodermic filled with fiction.

The serum contains ingredients that convince the student that during the war in which the United States fought in Southeast Asia, five U.S. Presidents were not as smart as their professor. The injection is painless; just a little pressure is felt at the time of the fluid’s introduction. But after a while the fluid hardens in the student’s system and it flourishes into delusions of how foreign policy should be enacted in the future.

It has already happened.

To be both brief and precise, this book came about because once a week during the fall semesters in the School of Public Policy at Pepperdine University there is an evening Foreign Policy Roundtable for those students who elect to attend. Generally, one session each semester is devoted to the subject of the Southeast Asian War that divided the people of the United States, and continues its profound effect on U.S. foreign affairs. Since the students are post-graduates, most often they have already studied that war in the colleges they previously attended. As the session goes on, something happens that at first was unexpected and now is very much expected: it is revealed that large gaps have been left in their education regarding the lives and deaths of Americans, Vietnamese, Laotians, and Cambodians during that period and beyond. Some students are justifiably confused.

A common dialogue has become: “How come I was never told these things at the college I attended?”

The only accurate answer has been, “I can only guess. It is my belief that the professor who taught you about that war didn’t know, or did know and didn’t want you to know.”

This book is meant to fill in vacancies left in too many histories of the Southeast Asian War. Much of the information used is taken from notes, commentaries, speeches, articles, and other writings of mine during the 1960s and 1970s as those events were being lived.

It should be apparent by this book’s short length regarding a long war that it is not meant to be a complete history of the war. Rather, it is meant to act as a supplement to history by recording those pertinent pieces of the past that have been tossed aside, successfully destroying so much of the truth and creating the book’s title: An American Amnesia.

Earlier this month, the Richard Nixon Foundation, and the folks at the National Archives co-sponsored a panel discussion “Domestic Policy Initiatives of the Nixon Years: Bringing Innovation and Progress to the American People.” It was great.

Geoff Shepard set the stage by explaining how the model of the National Security Council was used to form the Domestic Council. This became the way policy was discussed, massaged and ranked. Eventually the ideas took on the form of a “White Paper” that went to the President. President Nixon preferred being able to study options in the form of a document, rather than having advisers presenting their views in person. He set aside time to review these papers in his small White House study. The model of how the National Security Council operated is a very interesting way to get things done. A policy would be introduced, and if the Congress did not reject it within 60 days, it was considered enacted. That’s what the Domestic Council put in place for their policies. A brilliant strategy that produced results.

James Cavanaugh talked about the health care initiatives of the Nixon administration. Such a timely topic right now, but even more amazing to realize is what could have been then. The “Family Assistance Program” was almost a done deal until the ever powerful Unions persuaded Senator Ted Kennedy that they were happy with their health care plan and didn’t want it messed up. The Senator stopped his support of the Nixon program and the idea was defeated. What if indeed . . . . even Kennedy later expressed regret that it wasn’t enacted in the early 1970′s.

John Whitaker talked about the environment. The first “Earth Day” and the establishing of the Environmental Protection Agency. “White Papers” on the subjects of clean air and clean water resulted in the Acts that bear those names. President Nixon was responsible for those major initiatives and it is disturbing that he isn’t given more credit for the many good things that were done.

Dick Fairbanks talked about energy, the Alaska pipeline, and many other exciting energy-related projects that most people had forgotten were started during the Nixon years.

For me, a young mother of three at the time, focused on our girls and running a household with a husband who traveled extensively, it was quite a learning experience to sit in the audience and hear the panel talk about the accomplishments of those years. In our home, the conversations were more often about the President’s travel plans than about his policies. You can imagine, the major issues of the day were things like, Dad can’t go to Lisa’s parent-teacher conference because the President will be going to Whitney Young’s funeral in Lexington, Kentucky. Or, Dad won’t be at Marja’s school play because the President will be giving a speech in Chicago. Or, Dad won’t be able to make Lynne’s track meet because the President will be at the Lincoln Day dinner in New York. That’s the kind of stuff the Walker family talked about. I’ll bet the four Whitaker boys and their Mom, Betty, talked about Environmental issues around their dinner table, when they had finished talking about sports, of course.

Needless to say, I learned so much from that panel discussion and urge you to watch for it to appear on C-span.

Tricia Nixon Cox, her husband Ed, and son Christoper flew out from New York to join us for the events of the week-end. On Saturday, Tricia laid a wreath at the grave-site of her parents. It was a moving ceremony, made even more special and Presidential, by the participation of the Sea Cadets, Troy High School Junior ROTC, our military leadership of tomorrow. Robbie Britt, a man with an amazing voice, wowed the crowd when he sang, “God Bless America,” and then asked the large crowd to join him in singing that wonderful song again. Sandy Quinn, always the masterful master of ceremonies, worked his usual magic. It would have been perfect, if the Eisenhower family had been able to join us, too. They were missed.

Tricia also met with all of the wonderful docents and had a group photo taken. The docents, in their red, white and blue uniforms, as far as I am concerned, are the heart and soul of this Presidential Library. They are dedicated and well informed. As Ron said recently, “the docents know everything about this place.” He was right.

We also saluted a great American Hero. Commander Everett Alvarez, Jr., the longest held POW in Vietnam, received the First, “Great American Hero” award from the Richard Nixon Presidential Foundation. Ron and I have proudly called Everett and Tammy Ilyas Alvarez dear friends for many years. Ron was at the bottom of the airplane ramp when Everett and the other POW’s arrived home to freedom. What an emotional moment that was, the day when the American Heros finally came home. Everett had been a “Chained Eagle”, the title of his book, for eight and a half years.

All in all, it was a wonderful weekend. A Happy 97th Birthday party that brought almost four thousand people to the grounds of the Richard Nixon Library and Birthplace.

We’ll keep plodding away here in Yorba Linda. Thanks for your support.