In the Shadow of the White House

by Jo Haldeman

  Two weeks later, while campaigning for the presidency, Governor George Wallace of Alabama is shot in Laurel, Maryland. One of the four bullets lodges in his spine, paralyzing him. Once again, Bob is the one to tell the president. That night, when we are attending a special screening of The Godfather with the Ehrlichmans, Bob and John are called back to the White House. Frustrated by the way the investigation into the shooting is being handled, Nixon wants to do something about it.

  “Another flap,” Bob mutters when he returns home after midnight. “The FBI and Secret Service are supposed to be getting to the bottom of the shooting, but it’s impossible for those two agencies to work together. They spend more time blaming each other for their mistakes than in checking out the guy who committed the crime. The president’s really fed up.”

  Despite the possibility of having to spend the rest of his life in a wheelchair, Wallace says that he will stay in the race. To make a point that the assassination attempt is not going to intimidate him, Nixon walks with Secretary John Connally from the White House to the Treasury Department in broad daylight.

  On May 9, the US mines Haiphong Harbor and intensifies its bombing of North Vietnam. During an airstrike, South Vietnamese pilots accidentally drop napalm bombs on their own civilians, including children.

  Nine days later, Lucy Winchester presents the idea of a docent program to the wives of the president’s senior staff. We meet in a room next to her office in the East Wing, where several rows of gilded chairs have been set up facing a podium. On each seat there is a White House pad and a sharpened White House pencil. At exactly 10:30 a.m., Lucy walks over to the podium.

  “As you may or may not know, it takes over a hundred staff members to work a White House social event,” she states. “Each of them, including the military aides and ushers, receives a fact sheet, which must be memorized. As docents, you, too, will be expected to become completely familiar with the same fact sheet… Whenever you are at an event, you must always remember to remain in the background, and you are to give the credit for everything to the first lady.”

  Lucy’s words sound condescending, and when she warns that the press will pick up anything negative that we might say, I look over at Nancy Ziegler. The wife of the press secretary raises her eyebrows and shrugs. Lucy’s final comment is, “Don’t forget…staff doesn’t exist.”

  I’m disappointed when Lucy suggests that we meet again “sometime in the future.” Hopefully, at that time, she will be more enthusiastic about the program and will express a greater confidence in these capable women.

  ◆

  When South Vietnamese troops evacuate Hue and abandon Quang Tri to the advancing Communist army, American military commanders step up their B-52 raids on North Vietnam. In other news, the United States returns control of the island of Okinawa to Japan after twenty-six years. The Duke of Windsor dies, and The New York Times gets the Pulitzer Prize for its story on the Pentagon Papers.

  After spending ten days at Camp David, Bob takes off again. He leaves with the Nixons on a twelve-day trip to Austria, Russia, Iran, and Poland. Peter, Ann, and I spend the next weekend at the presidential retreat with the Ehrlichman family, Nancy Ziegler, and her two little girls. Surrounded by three ladies and eight children, John is the only man here. Although he is a good sport, I’m sure he’d give anything to be on the presidential trip with Bob and Ron Ziegler.

  On Sunday, May 28, Bob calls from Leningrad. Ecstatic, he gives a glowing report on the president’s weeklong Russian Summit with Soviet Premier Leonid Brezhnev. Not only is Nixon the first American President to set foot in Moscow, but, as a result of the SALT talks, he and Brezhnev sign the Anti-Ballistic Missile Treaty, effectively halting the nuclear arms race.

  Immediately after their return to the United States, the Nixons leave for a week at Camp David. In order to be with Bob, the two children and I head back to the mountain retreat. The weather is unbearably hot and humid, and we spend most of our time in and around the large staff swimming pool. Poor Bob has to wear a coat and tie whenever he meets with Nixon. On one occasion, he reports that the president had both the air conditioner and a fire going at the same time.

  A week is a long time for us to be here. After four days, Peter and Ann are bickering, our laundry has piled up, and we’ve exhausted the supply of appropriate grade-B movies. As we’re sitting down for dinner on Friday night, the president calls to tell Bob that he and Pat would like to leave as soon as possible. Bob passes the information along, and within forty-five minutes the Nixons are boarding Marine One.

  Rather than taking the helicopter, Bob drives home with the children and me. It’s special to be together as a family on this beautiful, warm evening, and I love having my husband sitting beside me. Only one thing separates us—the oversized, portable phone. The ever-present umbilical cord.

  A Third-Rate Burglary

  June 1972

  Following an attack on his wife by the Manchester Union Leader newspaper, Senator Edmund Muskie withdraws from the presidential race. Senator George McGovern of South Dakota becomes the Democratic nominee through grassroots support in the primaries. As a left-wing dove, he favors unconditional amnesty for the draft dodgers and calls for unilateral withdrawal from South Vietnam without any assurances concerning the return of our POWs. His approach to welfare is for the federal government to give $1,000 to every man, woman, and child in America.

  On June 16, the first lady leaves for a three-day campaign swing through Texas, California, and South Dakota. While she’s out of town, the president will spend the weekend in Florida. It’s his last chance to be in Key Biscayne before the weather gets too hot and humid.

  Hank is in California, and Peter is with Susan in Minnesota, but Ann and her friend Bea Alice fly down with Bob and me on Air Force One. When we check into the Key Biscayne Hotel, we find that “our” villa has been repainted a bright yellow. In its new, overdone, red, white, and blue living room, a faux marble replica of the Washington Monument sits on the coffee table.

  “Some Republican decorator really got cranked up over this,” Bob remarks as soon as we step inside.

  Sunday, June 18, dawns warm and windy. After celebrating Father’s Day at breakfast by the pool, the four of us return to the villa. Although the president is at Walker’s Cay with Bebe, Bob explains that something has come up and he needs to spend time on the phone. Armed with the Sunday papers, I settle on the terrace, while Ann and Bea Alice swim in the ocean. Buffeted by the strong wind, I cram the papers I’m not reading under my chaise to keep them from blowing away. The lead story in The Miami Herald is about the withdrawal of troops from Vietnam, and there’s a feature article on McGovern’s campaign. When I see that the Watergate complex is mentioned in a small story in the middle of the front page, I’m interested. The Watergate. That’s where Mother and I stayed with Bob while decorating our new home.

  Under the headline “Miamians Held in D.C. Try to Bug Demo Headquarters,” the article describes a burglary that took place after midnight yesterday. On June 17, five men were arrested for breaking into the Democratic National Committee Headquarters in the Watergate. Dressed in business suits, they wore rubber surgical gloves and carried burglary tools, surveillance equipment, walkie-talkies, and cameras. Four of the men are from Miami, but the fifth is a former employee of the CIA presently working as a security consultant in Washington.

  The story is weird. I’m curious to hear what Bob has to say about it, but I don’t want to interrupt him while he’s working. Peering through the glass doors, I can see him seated on the red, white, and blue striped couch in the living room. In front of him, the White House phone and Washington Monument sit side-by-side on a white glass-top coffee table. I wave to the girls and go back to my reading.

  Two hours later, Bob steps outside. Blinking in the bright sunlight, he sits down on the chaise next to me. “What’s the deal on this crazy break-in at the Watergate?” I ask, w
ithout wasting any time.

  “The whole thing’s ridiculous,” Bob says. “I can’t imagine why anyone would want to bug the Democratic headquarters. It’s the last place in the world to get inside information.”

  “Have you talked to the president?” I ask.

  “Yeah. He and Bebe just got back. I don’t think he knows about the break-in yet, unless he read about it in the paper.”

  Bob stands and stretches, and I suggest that we eat lunch by the pool. On the way out, I toss this morning’s papers into the kitchen wastebasket. Frequently I find an article that I want to save, but today there’s nothing special.

  Over the weekend, Key Biscayne is hit by the tail end of a hurricane. On Monday, our flight back to Washington is delayed, and Air Force One doesn’t take off until after dinner. Bob spends much of the time with the president in the forward cabin.

  I give no further thought to the break-in until the next morning at breakfast. The Washington Post has an article titled, “White House Consultant Tied to Bugging Figure.” It states that the name of Howard Hunt was found in the address books of two of the burglars. Hunt supposedly has connections to the CIA, as well as to the White House, where he was a consultant for Charles Colson. One of the burglars has been identified as James McCord, a security consultant at the Committee to Re-Elect the President. I’ve never heard these names before, and when I ask Bob, he says that he doesn’t know either Howard Hunt or James McCord.

  As with other flaps, Bob talks about containing this one. However, as much as he would like to prevent the break-in caper from becoming an issue in the campaign, the Democrats are determined to keep it going. Lawrence O’Brien, Democratic National Committee chairman, files a million-dollar lawsuit against the CRP for damages, and the FBI announces that it’s starting an investigation. Press Secretary Ron Ziegler minimizes the break-in and refers to it as “a third-rate burglary.” In a press conference on June 22, the president states that no one in the White House was involved.

  On Wednesday, June 28, the president announces that no new draftees will be sent to Vietnam. A wave of relief sweeps over me, and I couldn’t be happier. Hank must be on cloud nine.

  Georgetown, Here We Come

  July 1972

  The president and first lady plan to spend two weeks at the Western White House, and Bob flies out with them on Air Force One. Susan, Peter, Ann, and I travel on a windowless government backup plane. Hank has a summer job at the CRP in Washington and will not be coming out to California.

  While my sister and her four children spend the month at my parents’ house on Bay Island, our family will stay across the bay on Harbor Island. Friends have lent us their two-story, waterfront home, and by the time the children and I arrive, the Army Signal Corps has already installed three White House phones. Bob’s Sunfish is waiting for him on the dock.

  Our first weekend here, Bob is free on Sunday, and the president calls only once. Enjoying lunch outside on the patio, Bob, Peter, and I have a rambling conversation about life in Washington. This turns into a discussion about Georgetown, and much to my surprise, both Bob and Peter are soon rhapsodizing over the benefits of living there.

  “Let’s move, Mom,” Peter exclaims.

  Although I have no desire to pack up and move again, I find myself quietly mulling over the idea. Georgetown is charming, and it’s convenient. It would be an easy commute to the White House, as well as to the children’s schools. We don’t need our big house in Kenwood. Maybe we could find a townhouse…

  Before I know it, I tell Bob and Peter that I’m willing to go along with the idea and will call a real estate broker as soon as we return to Washington. I don’t do things impulsively, and my commitment startles me as much as it does my husband and my son.

  ◆

  On the Fourth of July, Haldemans and Hortons assemble at #11 for dinner and fireworks on the beach. Addressing the nation, President Nixon talks about plans for the bicentennial celebration four years from now. Dressed in a red blazer, white shirt, and blue tie, he announces that he has named the presidential jet the Spirit of ’76 to commemorate the occasion.

  Just as things are heating up for the Republican Convention next month, Martha Mitchell is back in the news. Issuing her husband a public ultimatum, she says that if their marriage is to survive, John must choose between her and politics. He responds by resigning from his job as campaign director at the CRP and making it clear that “the happiness and welfare” of his wife and daughter come first. Clark MacGregor, a former Minnesota congressman, replaces him.

  Both political parties plan to hold their conventions in Miami this year, and the Democrats meet first on July 10. From an eclipse of the sun on opening day to the final moments of the convention, things do not go well for them. The Democratic Party is in shambles. Taken over by George McGovern and the radical activists of the New Left, it is being run by amateurs in the name of “open politics.” Without the backing of the traditional organizers, there’s no control or discipline on the convention floor. Long debates on abortion and gay rights cause the sessions to run throughout the night into the next morning. Hubert Humphrey is booed, and one commentator refers to the scene as the “Mad Hatter’s tea party.” Senator McGovern is finally selected as the Democratic presidential candidate.

  Along with the rest of the nation, Bob and I follow the wild proceedings on television. On the final night, he drives to San Clemente to watch the convention with the president and John Connally. The night is chaotic. The vice presidential nominating process gets bogged down in trivia, and there’s a three-hour debate over the nominee. During the free-for-all, the delegates nominate thirty-nine people, including Martha Mitchell and Mao Tse-tung. At last, Senator Thomas Eagleton of Missouri is selected as McGovern’s running mate. By the time McGovern gives his acceptance speech at 2:48 a.m. Miami time, Bob has returned home. The minute it’s over, the White House phone rings.

  “Yes, Mr. President,” Bob answers. He listens and then laughs. “You’re absolutely right. The Democrats blew it this time. I feel kinda sorry for poor old George. The only voters awake for his speech live in Guam.” Pause. “Teddy Kennedy should be their candidate. His speech was brilliant.”

  Over the next two weeks, the Democrats continue to have problems. Senator Eagleton admits on TV that he has undergone electric shock therapy for depression, but McGovern states that he’s still behind him “a thousand percent.” By the end of the month, however, McGovern changes his mind. The former director of the Peace Corps and President Kennedy’s brother-in-law, Sargent Shriver, replaces Eagleton as the vice presidential candidate.

  In the news, Jane Fonda visits North Vietnam, where she uses Radio Hanoi to urge American soldiers to defect to the enemy. She is photographed on a North Vietnamese tank, laughing with the gun crew. It’s disturbing, and some people call her a traitor.

  Four More Years

  August 1972

  On the first of August, our family moves across the channel to Bay Island, and the Watergate caper flares up again. In a campaign speech in Ohio, McGovern charges that the president is at least indirectly responsible for the Watergate break-in. A check earmarked for Nixon’s reelection campaign is found on one of the burglars, and Senator William Proxmire proposes the creation of a commission to investigate the bugging. As with all flaps, Bob says that his overriding objective is to “contain and minimize any potential political damage.”

  American B-52s deliver the heaviest raids so far against North Vietnam. The president’s plan for Vietnamization moves forward, and the last US ground combat unit is deactivated. A Harris Poll shows that 74 percent of the people polled think that South Vietnam should not be allowed to fall into the Communists’ hands, and the first lady speaks out against Jane Fonda in a rare press conference at the White House. Governor George Wallace withdraws his third-party candidacy. And the World Congress of Nudists meets in Yugoslavia. Rain and cool weather fo
rce the thirty thousand participants to wear clothes.

  ◆

  With the Republican Convention coming up, Bob flies back to Washington, where he spends much of his time holed up at Camp David with the president. By the middle of August, Miami is teeming with Republican delegates who are determined to show the nation how a convention should be run. Like the Democrats, however, they have their share of demonstrators.

  The air-conditioned Miami Beach Convention Complex, with its patriotic red, white, and blue décor, contrasts sharply with the heat and angry crowds outside. Police sirens wail, and a residue of tear gas lingers in the oppressive humidity. In Flamingo Park, thousands of antiwar protestors congregate in a tent city. In the “People’s Pot Park,” hippies give out free nausea bags at a “vomitorium.” A sign over a box with Nixon’s picture on it says, “Throw up here.” At Nautilus Junior High School two miles away, the Young Voters for the President has set up headquarters. Hank is one of the three thousand young volunteers busy organizing Nixon rallies.

  Arriving in Miami, the president gives his familiar “V for victory” wave from the steps of the Spirit of ’76. Watching the arrival on large television screens inside the convention complex, Non and I cheer and wave our pennants along with the delegates. Everyone chants, “Four more years. Four more years.”

  On the night of the president’s acceptance speech, there are three empty seats next to Non and me in Box D. Hank and Ann are working at Young Voters for the President headquarters, and who knows where Bob is. The children should be here by now, and I can’t imagine what’s delaying them. When Bob arrives, he’s preoccupied with the final arrangements and wants to check things out.

  “Wanna come with me?” he asks.