Five Presidents: My Extraordinary Journey With Eisenhower, Kennedy, Johnson, Nixon, and Ford

by Hill, Clint

  On March 2, 1969, President Nixon was returning to Washington after his eight-day trip to Europe, and an official arrival ceremony had been planned at Andrews Air Force Base, with Vice President Agnew heading the welcoming delegation. The president wasn’t scheduled to land until just before ten in the evening, and I thought it was strange that the White House had organized all this fuss when it would be well after dark. I could not recall Eisenhower, Kennedy, or Johnson ever having such a formal arrival ceremony in the United States at night. On top of the late hour, the weather was miserable. It had been blustery all day, with periods of sleeting rain as temperatures hovered around the freezing point, and after sunset it just got colder.

  Everyone was bundled up in coats and scarves, trying to stay warm and dry, while the military troops were all lined up in formation awaiting the president’s arrival. People cheered as Air Force One landed—it is a spectacular sight—and as soon as it came to a stop, the steps were moved to the doorway, and President Nixon emerged to more cheers and the band playing ruffles and flourishes, and “Hail to the Chief”.

  Vice President Agnew was waiting to greet President Nixon at the foot of the stairs, and after walking through a short reception line, Nixon and Agnew walked together to inspect the troops. I was following Agnew, a few paces behind, when all of a sudden, as he turned at the end of the row, his feet hit a spot of ice and down he went—face-first. I jumped toward him, trying to avoid slipping myself.

  “Mr. Vice President, are you okay?”

  He moved to sit up, and I saw that his face was covered in blood.

  His nose was badly cut and scraped, but his pride was hurt more than anything else. I helped him get up and called for the doctor. Dr. Voss wiped the cut with antiseptic, but the only first-aid material he had was a bandage about four inches square. After the large white bandage was applied to the vice president’s nose, Agnew looked like a penguin with the bandage as his beak. The press had a field day with it, and although Nixon still made the headlines, Agnew’s stumble and the photo of him with that bloody bandage on his nose stole some of the president’s thunder.

  Shortly after the 1969 Inauguration, Nixon decided that instead of going to church, he would hold nonsectarian Sunday services in the White House. Whenever a president attends church, he argued, it is extremely disruptive to the congregation with all the media attention and security precautions that must be taken. Raised a Quaker, Nixon was deeply religious, and he used the services to encourage Americans to attend church and to remind members of his own administration that “we feel God’s presence here, and that we seek his guidance here.” He would invite cabinet members, Supreme Court justices, Diplomatic Corps members, congressmen, business leaders, military officials, ambassadors, and friends—sometimes having as many as three hundred in attendance. A wide variety of clergy from different faiths would conduct the services—people like Billy Graham, Norman Vincent Peale, and Terence Cardinal Cooke—and getting an invitation to a White House Sunday service soon became something of a status symbol. There was some complaining about the White House being used as a church, but most Americans praised the services, asserting that they testified to Nixon’s faith. We in the Secret Service were pleased that the president and his family didn’t need to leave the safe confines of the White House.

  ON FRIDAY, MARCH 28, 1969, we were informed that seventy-eight-year-old former president General Dwight D. Eisenhower had died at Walter Reed Army Hospital. Although his death did not come as a shock, considering his age and history of heart problems—the first heart attack in 1955 in Denver, and four more in a five-month period in 1968—still, a sense of loss and mourning swept across America. I was saddened to learn that this great American, the military hero who became president and became one of America’s greatest ambassadors, had succumbed to his failing heart. He had suffered so much with heart disease, and it had finally taken him. I had such fond memories of my time with President Eisenhower: seeing how beloved he was and how graciously he accepted the applause and accolades of his adoring fans as we traveled around the world; observing him playing golf, shooting quail, and fishing for trout, and how much enjoyment those activities brought him. I had such a personal connection, having been in the Secret Service office in Denver where Mrs. Eisenhower’s mother lived and where the Eisenhowers spent a great deal of time. I recalled those many nights I spent at the Doud residence, reading from President Eisenhower’s vast collection of Western novels to pass the time. I respected him, as did all the agents, and we tried to make his time as president safe and secure, enabling him to do his job. I had the satisfaction of knowing we accomplished that for him and the Office of the President.

  President and Mrs. Nixon went to Walter Reed immediately after receiving word of his death to visit Mrs. Eisenhower, and preparations for the state funeral got under way. It would be another major security undertaking for the Secret Service, because President Nixon, Vice President Agnew, former President Johnson, and Mamie Eisenhower would all be participating. It was an even larger problem for the U.S. State Department Diplomatic Security unit, whose responsibility at that time was the protection of foreign heads of state. Many were coming to pay their respects to this international hero.

  President Eisenhower’s body was taken to the Gawler funeral home and, on Saturday, March 29, to the Washington National Cathedral for a brief prayer service in the Bethlehem Chapel, attended by family and close friends. I was there with Vice President Agnew and watched solemnly as Mamie Doud Eisenhower—Ike’s wife for fifty-two years—led the tight-knit Eisenhower family into the chapel. Upon conclusion of the private prayer service, the public was then admitted to pass by the flag-draped casket at a rate of approximately one thousand per hour. The following day the body was taken in a procession to the Capitol to lie in state.

  All of this ceremony brought back the still vivid memories of those four days in November 1963, just five years earlier: the funeral procession with the president’s casket on a horse-drawn gun caisson; a riderless horse with boots in the stirrups, reversed; the slow cadence of the marching military band. And there I was, once again, standing in the Rotunda with the President of the United States, the vice president, and members of Congress with the flag-draped casket of a former president in the center of the room directly under the Capitol dome. “Hail to the Chief” played at a very slow tempo, the military honor guard, the eulogies—all reminiscent of President Kennedy’s funeral.

  IN 1961, PRESIDENT Kennedy had initiated legislation that gave the Vice President of the United States the role of chairing the National Aeronautics and Space Council (NASC). Lyndon Johnson—vice president at the time—had been deeply involved with the space program during his time in the Senate, so it seemed appropriate, while also giving the space program the high-level attention Kennedy thought it should have. When Johnson was president, I accompanied him to the NASA Manned Spacecraft Center in Houston, where we got briefings and demonstrations with some of the astronauts training for the missions, and saw the Apollo space suit the astronauts would wear.

  Now Vice President Agnew had the role of chairing the NASC, and lucky for me, it just happened to be during what was one of the most exciting times in those early days of space exploration.

  The first launch I attended with Vice President Agnew was Apollo 9 in early March 1969. It was the first test of a crewed lunar module orbiting the Earth, and as we watched the fiery rocket launch from the control center at Cape Kennedy, it was both breathtaking and nerve-racking. Just two years earlier, in January 1967, I had attended the funerals of two of the three astronauts who had been killed when fire swept through the command module on the launchpad during a preflight test. Launching a manned spaceship was anything but routine.

  The Apollo 9 mission was successful, and all three men returned safely. Two months later, we were back at Cape Kennedy for the launch of Apollo 10. This would be the dress rehearsal for the Apollo 11 landing on the moon.

  Vice President Agnew had been
invited to have dinner with the astronauts—Tom Stafford, Eugene Cernan, and John Young—in the astronauts’ quarters the night before the launch, and our advance agent, Johnny Guy, had arranged for me to be a guest as well. I was one of a very small number of people in attendance, and it was an honor I will never forget.

  The Apollo 10 mission was successful, and the Apollo 11 launch was scheduled for July 16 that same year. Several weeks prior to the launch, astronauts Neil Armstrong, Mike Collins, and Buzz Aldrin invited President Nixon to dine with them the night before the launch, just as Vice President Agnew had with the Apollo 10 crew, and President Nixon happily accepted. Shortly thereafter, word leaked to the press that one of the NASA physicians was extremely upset by President Nixon’s plans to have dinner with the astronauts the night before this critical mission because he might be carrying germs that could affect their health during the flight. There was a lot of discussion, and in the end President Nixon decided to cancel his attendance at the dinner because, if there were any medical issues, he sure as hell didn’t want to be blamed for them. Instead, he telephoned them as they were having dinner and sent a telegram that said:

  ON THE EVE OF YOUR EPIC MISSION, I WANT YOU TO KNOW THAT MY HOPES AND MY PRAYERS—AND THOSE OF ALL AMERICANS—ARE WITH YOU . . . IT IS NOW YOUR MOMENT.

  An estimated one million people had gathered in the Cape Kennedy area to view the launch, and the rest of the world would be watching on live television. Once again, I was with Vice President Agnew, and this time we watched from an outdoor viewing area that was set up for five hundred special guests that included heads of state from around the world. Former President Johnson and his wife, Lady Bird, had come to view the launch, along with President Johnson’s press secretary, Tom Johnson. We all sat together in the bleachers, squinting into the morning sun as the powerful Saturn V rocket blasted off in fiery brilliance with the three astronauts inside the Apollo 11 module at its tip. The ground shook with the thunderous roar of the liftoff as the world held its collective breath. It was spectacular. Even though I was there on duty, I was thrilled to be present—another historic occasion I was privileged to witness.

  Four days later, the entire world watched together, through the magic of television and the remarkable advances made as a result of the space program, as Neil Armstrong stepped onto the surface of the moon and uttered those humble yet profound words, “One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.”

  From the Oval Office, President Nixon spoke to the astronauts 250,000 miles away by telephone.

  “I can’t tell you how proud we all are of what you have done for every American. This has to be the proudest day of our lives. . . . For one priceless moment in the history of man, all of the people on this earth are truly one.”

  After speaking to the astronauts, President Nixon called President Johnson at the LBJ Ranch and reportedly said, “I thought we ought to share this great moment.”

  I couldn’t help but think how elated President Kennedy would have been to see this day. Eight years earlier, just four months into his presidency, Kennedy had stood before a joint session of Congress, and in a stirring speech filled with passion and substance requested an enormous increase in funding for the space program.

  “I believe that this nation should commit itself to achieving the goal, before this decade is out, of landing a man on the moon and returning him safely to the Earth,” he said. “No single space project in this period will be more impressive to mankind, or more important for the long-range exploration of space; and none will be so difficult or expensive to accomplish.”

  There had been much skepticism and criticism—how could we put so many resources into the unknown when millions of Americans were living in poverty? Yet his vision inspired an entire industry as scientists, engineers, test pilots, medical researchers, and businesspeople embraced the challenge to beat the Soviets to the moon.

  I had to believe that President Kennedy was right there with Neil Armstrong as he stepped onto the surface of the moon, and he was proud. We had made it to the moon. Now, we had to return the men safely back to earth.

  President Nixon had planned an international trip to the Pacific and Southeast Asia, which he and his staff managed to coordinate with the return of the Apollo 11 astronauts. After first stopping in San Francisco—during which he and his wife, Pat, made a spur-of-the-moment decision to ride a slow-moving cable car up and down the steep city streets—Nixon flew on Air Force One to Johnston Island in the mid-Pacific, which put him in position to helicopter to the USS Arlington, a communications cruiser. From there he took another helicopter flight to the USS Hornet, which was the recovery ship for the astronauts. President Nixon watched as the module splashed down into the ocean at 6:50 a.m. on July 24, and when the capsule was brought aboard the Hornet, Nixon had the opportunity to speak to Armstrong, Aldrin, and Collins as he peered through a sealed glass window into their isolated protective chamber.

  “Boy, what a moment! Great! Great!” he exclaimed. “This is the greatest week in the history of the world since Creation.”

  President Nixon had wanted to do something dramatic in conjunction with the moon landing, but it was not without criticism. The telephone call from the Oval Office—which was broadcast on live television—was an unexpected technical issue the astronauts had to deal with in the midst of worries about fuel and oxygen, and space officials later admitted they would have preferred not to have had this additional problem.

  The New York Times bitterly criticized Nixon’s attempts to “cash in” on the moon landing and wrote in an editorial that it was only an “accident of the calendar” that put President Nixon in position to view the realization of the efforts of his two predecessors—Presidents Kennedy and Johnson.

  “President Nixon has had the least responsibility for the massive program,” the Times said, and his “attempt to share the stage with the three brave men of Apollo 11 when they attain the moon appears to us rather unseemly.”

  AFTER MEETING THE astronauts, Nixon embarked on his trip to Asia, stopping first in Guam, where he held an informal press conference. There had been speculation that the president would likely make a surprise visit to Vietnam, although it was not on the schedule, and Nixon addressed that by saying, “There are no changes in the schedule to announce. I have no present plans to go to Vietnam.”

  When a reporter asked about the future of the United States and its military relationships in Asia, Nixon answered, “I believe that the time has come when the United States, in our relations with all of our Asian friends, be quite emphatic on two points: One, that we will keep our treaty commitments—our treaty commitments, for example, with Thailand under SEATO; but, two, that as far as the problems of internal security are concerned, as far as the problems of military defense, except for the threat of a major power involving nuclear weapons, that the United States is going to encourage and has a right to expect that this problem will be increasingly handled by, and the responsibility for it taken by, the Asian nations themselves.”

  This was the crux of the message he was going to give to the leaders of the countries he visited on this trip: We, the United States, will support you, but you must fight your own battles in protecting your homeland. No more Vietnams. This would become the basis of the “Nixon Doctrine.”

  The next day, having been joined by Mrs. Nixon in Guam, the president flew on to Manila, the first stop on this multination tour. The armored presidential limousine SS-800-X had been flown to Manila and was being used for the arrival motorcade. Enthusiastic crowds lined the parade route, waving American flags. The reception was so warm and friendly that Nixon requested the sliding section of the roof be opened.

  During the motorcade, about half a million people viewed the president as he stood and waved, exposed from the chest to the top of his head, along the five-mile motorcade route to the Malacañang Palace, as the agents jogged anxiously alongside.

  The next day, it was reported that several hours before Nixon arri
ved, a man was killed in a gun battle with police near the Intercontinental Hotel, where Nixon was scheduled to speak. A homemade .22-caliber pistol, a smoke grenade, and a rough pencil sketch of the ground floor of the hotel were found on the body of the man. There was no concrete evidence of an assassination plot, but police said “you could surmise that.”

  Meanwhile I was in Seattle with Vice President Agnew, who was attending the Western Governors’ Conference and voicing Nixon’s position on the Vietnam War. When I saw the photo of Nixon standing out of the car and read about the scene in the newspapers, all I could do was shake my head.

  PRESIDENT NIXON FLEW from Manila to Jakarta, Indonesia, where he met a smaller-than-expected but enthusiastic crowd upon arrival and had a meeting with President Suharto to emphasize the Nixon Doctrine. From there he flew to Bangkok.

  This was the jumping-off point to go to South Vietnam. On July 30, 1969, Nixon made an unannounced visit to Tan Son Nhut Air Base and helicoptered to the Independence Palace in Saigon to confer with President Nguyen Van Thieu about the new U.S. policy and the withdrawal of American troops from Vietnam. The visit lasted five and a half hours.

  After short stops in New Delhi and Lahore, India, Air Force One landed in Bucharest, Romania. It was the first time a U.S. president had ever made a state visit to a Communist capital, and the stakes were high. Nixon was hoping the visit would lead to East-West breakthroughs without provoking the Soviet Union.

  Romania’s president Nicolae Ceauşescu had invited President Nixon, and the government had assured a large turnout by letting workers cut short their Saturday half day of labor. Close to a million people lined the twelve-mile parade route, cheering, waving Romanian and American flags, and shouting “Hoo-rah! Nix-on, Nix-on!”