University of Virginia Library

Sweating Loyalists & Sanguine Lust At The Shoreham . . .

By WALTER BARDENWERPER

WASHINGTON–It was,
once again, the President's
night. He had winged across his
dominions after casting his
ballot in the modest
schoolroom in California, and
was now about to celebrate his
polil Christmas with the
family in the House of the
People in Washington. While
George McGovern receded into
the long South Dakota night
just as his political force
evaporated (only to condense
on the pages of history),
Richard Nixon swooped into
his nation's capitol veritably
bristling with the power and
sense of purpose historically
exhibited by benevolent
conquerors.

He had not gotten here
alone, and this was the night to
remember and reward the loyal
functionaries and flunkies that
helped merge the man and his
moment. At the Shoreham
Hotel, just a few blocks up
Connecticut Avenue from the
Democratic National
Committee's vigil, the elegant
and sweaty loyalists waited for
the almost messianic hero who
led them into the golden age of
Republicanism. It was a long

revel for the Grand Old Party.

They did not want any
troublemakers here, and they
did not have any. Getting into
the Regency Ballroom was an
exercise in toleration as
literally hundreds of "Hosts"
and "Hostesses"–mostly
members of a group
categorized as "Young Voters
For The President" checked
for the red-and-blue pin that
was your "right to live"
credential in a crowd which
knew no restraint as the scotch
flowed and the night wore on.

A young Arlington
supporter explained away what
seemed to this reporter a
superfluity of credentials
checks by saying, "Some press
guy might be real ratty; just
trying to cause a ruckus. This is
supposed to be a good time,
and we don't want it ruined."
After ten years, it was finally
Richard Nixon's turn to do the
kicking around.

The Shoreham was a case
study in media bombardment.
Every wall, every column,
every lapel, was encrusted in
campaign paraphernalia. In
their effort to spend their
campaign war chest, the
Nixonites had posters of the
President and Vice-President

CD/Walter Bardenwerper

Elliott Richardson And Vet

with every motto and every
camera angle they could
apparently invent: Buttons
reading: Veterans For Our
President, Hook 'Em, Dick,
Scots For Nixon, Estonians
For Nixon, and Pretty Girls
For Nixon dispelled doubts
that the President has trouble
exciting minorities.

At least three bars were in
use, and few seemed
intimidated by the $1.45 price
tag on the drinks. Pepsi and
pretzels were free, and maybe
just a little gauche, because
they were consumed mostly by
children and reporters. Resting
in one bar, I met a cheery lady
from Hyattsville who conveyed
her glee at having seen
President Nixon arrive on the
White House lawn.

"The little girls and their
husbands greeted him and all
of us were almost blown away
by the helicopter. He came
over to the White House staff
members and said 'hi' then told
us, 'you all get back to work
now.' She was interrupted by
a purple satin lady who
appeared to be her sister,
breezing over to us, all smiles
saying, "Oh wow! The
President got his two B's. The
President got his two B's."
Upon sensing our puzzlement
at her bubbly message she
explained that she meant the
election of Baker and Bartlett
to the Senate. It was
characteristically cryptic
phraseology from the people
who were too excited to go
into unnecessary details.

Back in the ballroom,
Daniel Schorr interviewed
notables from Robert Finch to
Edward Nixon, the President's
caricature. A country-western
band whined out a few
numbers, and was replaced by
a tuxedoed orchestra,
conducted by Frank Sinatra's
former arranger.

The now throbbing crowd
of 5,000 was getting a little
tired of this, so the voice in
the celling announced that the
next act on the all-star talent
show was the President's dear
friend, the national
embodiment of minority
groups, Sammy Davis, Jr. His
renditions of "The Candy
Man" were interspersed with
terse remarks from cabinet and
quasi-cabinet celebrities.

First Elliot Richardson of
HEW praised the crowd for its
part in re-electing our great
president, then Richard
Kleindienst of Justice
belabored the point, then
Frank Sinatra, the only one
anyone cared to see, beat it
into the ground like a thug
pummeling a corpse. But Frank
was different, and, along with
Bebe Rebozo, sent little
shudders of awe through a few
of us who remembered how
power corrupts, and...No, it
was better not to think about
it.

Richard Nixon had the
election so wrapped up that
the only game left was overkill
and the initially upper-middle
class throng was now behaving
like the mob in the pit at the
Globe Theatre They had
actually lost their well-bred
demeanor and their
well-trained manners and
became almost boorish. It was
getting hot, stuffy, and greedy
in the room, with a few
faintings and a few near-fisticuffs.

Then came the McGovern
concession speech from the
cool prairies. The crowd settled
down momentarily, but after
listening politely to a few
sentences, the sanguine lust for
power and the urge to smash
McGovern got the better of the
more vocal goons in the crowd.
Shouts and hoots, boos and
hisses drowned out the
vanquished Democrat. The
mob began to thrust forward
against the restraining ropes,
anxious to see their heroes, and
relishing their chance to shout
epithets at Sen. McGovern.

"Young Voters For The
President," especially the ones
who looked like they were
Junior G-Men or aspiring
Gestapo pushed back at those
of us helplessly shoved into the
ropes

Agnew spoke and was
followed by a tiring
five-minute wait, Finally,
Ruffles and Flourishes piped
from the stage and in strolled
the President. Everything
changed again.

Richard Nixon had these
people under his power. He
looked young, healthy, and
invigorated by his sweeping
conquest. His opening remarks
clearly endorsed Agnew for
President in 1976. But then he
dropped the uncomfortable
role of Nixon the candidate for
the last time and soothed the
tired workers with a few words
from Nixon the President. He
became believable again, and
the audience regained its
respectability.

The campaign which was
never really a campaign at all
had ended and he was
obviously satisfied with his
great triumph. His absence for
several hours had driven the
people to mild but greedy
madness, but his presence with
his homey family had calmed
us into cathartic satisfaction.
It was the President's night.

CD/Walter Bardenwerper

Where GOP Loosened Up