This evening will be the 49th anniversary of Nixon’s resignation speech.
I am not an academic, a historian or political scientist. I only have my personal memories that have been layered with years of conversations, reading books and layered again with access to the internet and YouTube. Over the years I continue to refine my understanding and put these events in context to the best of my ability. But that isn’t why I want to write this diary…
I’m sure anyone here who experienced the 60s and 70s can recount the major events, the frustration of violence and assassinations and the hope and solidarity we felt as we gathered together to protest and felt that maybe our voices would be heard and change could happen. We all remember where we were when President Kennedy was assassinated or when we landed on the moon. But what do we remember about the night that “our long national nightmare was over” as President Ford put it.
What I’d like to share is what I saw and felt as a teenager of the 70s and just a little bit of what that nightmare was to me. I was 16 when the Watergate break in occurred, I was 18 at the time of his resignation. This is going to be a circuitous personal journey with just a few of those memories.
I remember watching the evening news in June 1972 when the story broke about five men being arrested for breaking into the Democratic National Headquarters. It was odd that a burglary was on national news but it didn’t take much imagination when hearing “DNC” that Nixon was somehow involved. I was living with my grandma in a small Kansas town, the evening news and the local newspaper were the only sources to know what was happening in the wider world. I know it may seem weird that a 16 year old girl would be sitting in front of the TV watching Uncle Walter, just go with me being a little bit precocious. I spent more time than I would admit to my friends that I would read the paper every evening to see if I could find some mention of the Watergate Scandal. It was five months until the Presidential Election and if I was lucky there might be two paragraphs buried on page 16, far away from any “real” political news. I had a hard time keeping my opinions to myself and when I was on a date with a fine upstanding, banker’s son, I said Nixon was an SOB, he threatened me with a gun to take it back. Short story, shorter date.
The next year, after his second inauguration, I moved back to live with my parents in Arizona. We had two newspapers in town, the morning paper had a conservative slant and the evening paper was considered liberal. We still pretty much got our 1/2 hour of national news through CBS (because that’s where you’d find Uncle Walter) and Sunday’s “Meet the Press” and “60 Minutes”. (Don’t worry, I still watched Saturday morning cartoons.) So why did I keep looking for news? Okay, I came from a family who wasn’t shy about calling him Tricky Dick but mostly I hated him because the rat-bastard (the endearing name my mother had given him) not only hadn’t gotten us out of Vietnam, he knowingly prolonged it and lied about it. I knew guys going there, I had a brother who might be called up. There are a lot of reasons to hate him but it became even more personal when I had to write letters and read them from a good friend stationed there.
Skip ahead to early 1973 when the Senate Watergate hearings… more little wrinkles in my memories, The Senate Select Committee hearings ran over months and they did a great job of making sure Americans had the chance to see them. I remember watching John Dean and hoping this was it… and then the bombshell I had been waiting for, Alexander Butterfield revealed the existence of tapes. I always thought I saw these moments broadcast live, but in actuality, I probably saw it on PBS when they reran the hearings in the evening. Doesn’t really matter, I do remember the shock, the “gotcha” moment that was imprinted on my memory.
Skip ahead some more to 1974… Two years have passed, I turned 18, graduated, and move out on my own. We were still waiting, and waiting. Two years out of an 18 year old’s life is quite a chunk if you think about it. August rolled around, I got a migraine, a really bad one that was going on for over a week. It was suicidally bad. On the evening of the 8th I finally made it over to my mom’s house. She had migraines, maybe she could think of something else to try. She said she would take me to the emergency room but I’d have to wait until after the President’s speech. I didn’t know what she was talking about, what had happened? I had totally missed the whole week because of a fucking migraine. No memories except for pain. I laid on the living room floor listening to his resignation speech coming from the TV in the family room. But I heard every word, through the pain. It felt like the nightmare might finally be over. (Mom took me to the ER so at least the migraine was finally over)
A month later he got off scot free! No fucking consequences! Ford pardoned him “Now, THEREFORE, I, GERALD R. FORD, President of the United States, pursuant to the pardon power conferred upon me by Article II, Section 2, of the Constitution, have granted and by these presents do grant a full, free, and absolute pardon unto Richard Nixon for all offenses against the United States which he, Richard Nixon, has committed or may have committed or taken part in during the period from January 20, 1969 through August 9,1974”
It was depressing, but ya gotta keep moving forward, right? After living with Nixon for 6 years as president (1/3 of my life), things could only get better, right?
Skip ahead 41 years later… I woke up one morning with a fucking migraine and Trump was coming down a fucking escalator. Now we have 24/7 access to news, every tweet, every soundbite, every website. It’s overwhelming. The nightmare deepens. Oh, what I’d give for a conviction with no pardon.
I don’t want anyone to get me wrong, I have my low moments but I’m not giving up at this point. I’ll do everything I can, every chance I get to give my grandkids hope for a better future. And I hope that all you Ohioans voted today.