It was June 5, 1974. I was attending the graduation of the latest-and-greatest crop of USNA midshipmen, on account of I was a yearbook photographer while attending there for a little while. The big news that day was that POTUS was on hand to greet the graduates and give a speech.
Of course, the scene was a circus, with secret service crawling all over the place touching their ear pieces and talking into little mics taped to the inside of their left index finger. Off in the distance, barely visible beyond a high iron fence, was a not-unexpected (the Viet Nam war was still on) protest group that felt that the best use of their day was to stand outside a symbol of the military that they hated hosting a speech by the president that they loathed, wave a few signs and exercise their first amendment rights until they were more than a little hoarse.
Then there were my companions for the day: news people from all over the world. I was assigned to stand in the wooden box thrown up to give the various news film crews a place to position their big movie cameras on tripods. (This was back in the day when if they said, "Film at 11:00," they actually meant film.) The guys next to me spoke little English and I caught incomplete snatches of the German that I barely learned in high school. I had nowhere near as much equipment as this journalistic elite, but it was still a nice vantage point from which to "shoot the president."
I kind of understood that the yearbook editor thought I couldn't get in as much trouble being forced to stand in one spot during the entire event as I would roaming the crowd for close-ups. I was a little disappointed that I had to stay put and couldn't hunt for interesting shots, but I had my orders, and that's what life is all about when you are a plebe at a service academy: following orders, and liking it!
But, Nixon! I was getting to see my first president in person! I was only fated to gaze upon the most powerful man in the world through a telephoto lens, but the top graduates of the class were about to get much more! As part of their honor for doing so well at an institution of higher military learning, these future captains and admirals (and Marine Corps colonels and generals) were going to get to shake the hand of their commander-in-chief! An occasion as serious and dignified (and intimidating!) as one could imagine, I imagine.
So, how did the cream of the crop, the top in their class, the elite of the elite of one of the most elite military officer training schools in the world, rise to the occasion? They decided to prank their president.
As the soon-to-be ensigns and second lieutenants came up to the president on the way to receiving their commissions, each one handed the president some little item, a shoulder board off of a uniform, a rubber alligator, a little American flag. Each was something small and creative and all were chosen to elicit smiles and chuckles from the crowd of military brass, journalists, parents, midshipmen and ultimately (they hoped) their president. (In retrospect, I feel it's safe to say that the Secret Service was not their target audience.)
There were awkward moments: a gifted frisbee was thrown out into the crowd upside-down, to sink to the ground after only traveling a few yards. But, the president who was known to be a pretty arrogant power-monger (even before the revelations of his in-office shenanigans), was remarkably affable, even mugging for the crowd at times and appearing to find humor in the situation. Still, the acts essentially amounted to senior pranks performed on the president of the United States. There was no doubting the sheer chutzpah of the class of '74.
I guess there were likely a few future Tail Hook members (the association of Navy pilots that were later embroiled in the infamous sexual harassment scandal) because at least two (IIRC) of this elite team chose to hand the president balsa wood aircraft. One was a glider, which POTUS threw out into the crowd with about as much panache as the ill-fated frisbee. But one participant was better prepared: he had a wind-up propeller-driven craft that was all prepped for take-off! Tricky-Dick held on to it a little too long (allowing the rubber band to wind down a bit) before realizing he was supposed to let it go, so it did not go as far as it might, but it did fly.
I guess it was a good thing he held it for a moment, because that was my moment. I snapped the shutter, and I got a shot that I have never seen anywhere else. I am kind of proud of my recording of a little piece of human interest minutia strategically placed in the calm eye of the storm that was to later knock his presidency off its foundations.
One could hardly expect their little gifts to their chief to scratch the surface of the grand scheme of things in the remaining two months of his ill-fated presidency. But, just imagine for a moment, that perhaps in the dark times, Richard M. Nixon might have trotted out the memory of that day, and crack just a hint of a smile. Not enough that anyone would notice, of course, but maybe enough to erase some of the stress of the events unfolding in those days.
I left the employ of the U.S. government, as well, about six months later, so Nixon and I both had our major life-defining failures that year. I rebuilt my life into something I am really tickled with today, and Nixon loosed his bonds having earned back not a little of the respect that so famously plummeted with his presidency.
It's pretty apparent that Richard Milhous Nixon learned the same lesson I have since those days: your failures don't have to be your ultimate definition.
I wonder if he learned how to smile, too.
