One of my favorite stories involving an American president begins very late at night when the most powerful man in the world, burdened by the responsibilities of his office, could not sleep. A music lover (and highly skilled pianist himself), he went to the Lincoln Sitting Room and listened to a classical music recording.
Hearing Rachmaninoff at a high volume at nearly 4 a.m., the president’s valet, Manolo Sanchez, was awakened and came into the room to find the president staring out the window. The president said he believed Washington’s most beautiful sight was the Lincoln Memorial at night.
Sanchez was an immigrant. The president had sponsored his application to become a naturalized citizen and was present when Sanchez took the Oath of Allegiance.
The valet told the president he had never been to the memorial.
The president responded, in as many words, let’s go now.
The Secret Service was anxious at the president unexpectedly ordering a car for impromptu pre-dawn sightseeing, especially because recent events had resulted in nationwide unrest. In fact, the city was filled with activists who had come to Washington specifically to protest the president’s policies. Many had camped out on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial.
But there was no attempt to clear them away. Like any tourists, the president and Sanchez (accompanied by Secret Service agents) ascended the steps and admired the statue and Lincoln’s stirring words etched into the walls.
Soon enough, some protesters recognized the president and approached him. He shook their hands and they began to talk. More joined them and, with the sun rising, the conversation continued for more than an hour. At one point the president spoke about “the spiritual hunger we all have.”
“What we must think about is why we are here,” he said. “What are those elements of the spirit which really matter?”
Increasingly nervous, Secret Service agents several times said the president had a phone call waiting for him in the car. Each time the president brushed them off, saying, “Let it wait.”
When he did finally leave, he stopped at the U.S. Capitol to see his old seat in the House. He talked with the cleaning staff, and one of the women asked him to sign her Bible. “My mother was a saint,” the president told her. “You be a saint too.”
The trip ended at the Mayflower Hotel, where the leader of the free world ordered corned beef hash for breakfast.
The president, some may remember, was Richard M. Nixon, and the date was May 9, 1970, not long after the invasion of Cambodia. Only days earlier National Guardsmen shot and killed four student protestors at Kent State University.
One can easily see the episode as more reckless and worrisome than inspirational. The conversation between the protestors and the president was peaceful, but reportedly more awkward than warm or enlightening. Recording the episode in his diary, Nixon’s Chief of Staff, H.R. Haldeman, wrote, “I am concerned about his condition.” Revisiting the event in 2011, the writer Nancy Benac characterized it as Nixon’s “kumbaya moment.”
But along with Nixon and the protestors is the figure of Lincoln, a politician of impeccable integrity who worked tirelessly to hold the nation together when it was being torn apart.
Nixon was drawn to the memorial that night because of his admiration for Lincoln, not to use it for the backdrop of a speech or photo opp. A voracious reader, the 37th president had studied Lincoln intently. He counted among his most treasured possessions a framed Lincoln portrait given to him by his grandmother when he was 13 years old.
But Nixon was a complex man, and four years after that trip to the memorial, his betrayal of Lincoln’s high ideals became undeniable. Key Republican leaders put their principles before party loyalty and told the president they could no longer support him.
Many remember Nixon’s televised resignation speech and the images of him leaving the White House. In between those two events, Nixon delivered a farewell address to the White House staff. Ever the politician, he may have spoken strictly with his legacy in mind, or he may have chosen his words after serious introspection. Regardless, he ended with worthwhile advice, especially for anyone debating politics — or religion — during contentious times like our own.
They are words, perhaps, worthy of the president he admired so much.
“Always give your best, never get discouraged, never be petty,” Nixon said. “Always remember, others may hate you, but those who hate you don’t win unless you hate them, and then you destroy yourself.”
Carl Peters is the managing editor of the Catholic Star Herald.
at the bottom and then tap “Add to Home Screen”
