I've been fortunate, in my lifetime, to have met many, many people. Mostly good, hard-working people (like myself), who are trying to make their way through life, but a few "celebrities," some politicians, and a few actors, news people and that like. I saw Danny Glover, on crutches, some years back, at SFO. A woman and her daughter asked for an autograph, and, crutches and all, Danny Glover graciously complied.
I had watched this transaction; an admirer's request, albeit inconvenient for the actor, had been granted with pleasure. I was standing several feet away, watching, and he was watching me, to see if I would make a similar request, as we passed. "'Sup, Danny?" "Hey." was the entire conversation, but I sensed his relief at not having to fumble with everything, and sign another autograph. It was cool.
In 1978, I got a chance to meet former President Richard M. Nixon, at his "Casa de Pacifica" in San Clemete. All I asked for was an autographed picture, for my parents, from "a guy-who-knew-a-guy," and I found myself at the San Clemente Inn one afternoon, to meet "the guy" who could get that done. His name was Carl, and the story I heard was that he had been the President's Personal Secretary in both the Kennedy and Johnson administrations, and left the job because of his loyalty to Nixon. At the time, he was Nixon's Personal Secretary, four years after Watergate, I remember that he was still fiercly loyal, and questioned me about my intentions for an autographed picture, as two fairly-large, highly capable-looking men, with bulges under their jackets, and a curly wired earpiece, exited the limosine that had brought Carl to the Inn.
"He's no problem," Carl said to the leader of the Detail. "He's a Sailor, and the Boss likes to do favors for active duty guys."
The Detail Leader gave me a stern eye, and gruffly asked "Any weapons?"
"NO," I assured him. "I just asked for an autographed picture."
The Detail Leader motioned, and a manila envelope, containing a picture of both the former-President and First Lady, standing on their patio. It was unsigned.
My immediate thought was that I would be sent-off with the picture, no autograph, but Carl directed me to the back seat of the limo, and we started down the road to the once Western White House. I don't remember the drive, or anything, but I seem to recall Carl asking about my parents, and telling him that they had voted Nixon in four elections. I could see his "business face" fade, a little, he seemed pleased. Even the Secret Service-guy relaxed a little.
The next thing I know, I'm standing in front of the desk of a former-President of the United States, in uniform, wondering what I should say to him. He was on the phone, and quickly wrapped-up his conversation, and directed his attention to me.
"How are you, Son?" the President asked. "I understand you wanted a picture for your parents."
I told him about my folks' support of his Presidential and Gubernatorial campaigns, bringing a smile to his face. He took the envelope, removed the picture, and penned: "To Charlie and Jackie Martin. Best Wishes," and I watched a hand that had penned so many historical documents sign it: "Richard M. Nixon". Somehow, "blown away by the moment" can't fully describe the scene, particularly since it got better. After he signed, Mr. Nixon buzzed his wife on the intercom, asking her to come to the office. When Patricia Nixon walked through the door, both the former-President and Carl smiled. Mr. Nixon handed a pen to his wife, said a few quiet words in her ear, and stepped aside, allowing her to sign "Pat Nixon" below her husband's name.
He thanked me for my service to the Navy, gave a personal "thanks" to my parents, shook my hand, and I was getting back into the limo.
"You are one lucky Sailor," Carl told me on the way back to the Inn, "Pat never signs anything."
The Secret Service-guy nodded, and mumbled "Never."
I framed the picture, and gave it to my folks for Christmas. Mom kept asking about it's authenticity, and I kept assuring her that I watched him sign it, myself.
No comments:
Post a Comment