When word got out 50 years ago this Thursday that President Richard Nixon would that night be announcing his decision to resign, speechwriter Ken Khachigian furiously hung up the phone on Washington Post reporter Carl Bernstein . Khachigian, who later became a favorite speechwriter for President Ronald Reagan and a legendary California political consultant, had argued until the very end that Nixon should keep fighting.
In a book released last month about his experiences with Nixon and Reagan, Khachigian essentially continues fighting for the former’s reputation. Khachigian remained a confidant of Nixon for years after his presidency, and he recounts vignettes that provide for Nixon some humanizing redemption. (The memoir, Behind Closed Doors: In the Room with Reagan and Nixon, spends even more time on Khachigian’s interactions with Reagan, who comes across as grandly likeable as ever, but that’s for another column.)
For those of us who are no fans of Nixon on the grounds of both ethics and policy, Behind Closed Doors erases at least part of the memory of a cynical, brooding figure . Instead, it reintroduces something of the engaging, pre-1960 rising pol, the one, as portrayed in Christopher Matthews’s Kennedy and Nixon, who earnestly and repeatedly inquired worryingly about the health of a young Democratic colleague from Massachusetts. Like that earlier Nixon, the post-presidential Nixon was an inveterate writer of personal letters, some of which Khachigian makes public for the very first time.
Reproduced in their entirety in the new memoir’s appendices, these are letters Nixon sent to or through Khachigian with advice for Reagan, both as Reagan ran for office and then as he served in the White House. To put it mildly, the letters are fascinating. As Reagan’s team negotiated possible debates in 1980 with incumbent Jimmy Carter, Nixon wrote, “Dear Ron: I can imagine that you are getting all kinds of advice on the debates. I hesitate to burden you but I thought it might be useful if I passed on some observations based on my experience in 1960 with Kennedy and my analysis of the situation you face.”
Nixon urged that Reagan focus on Carter’s terrible economic record , especially on inflation, which “affects everybody.” And: “People care about the size of the federal budget only when they can relate it to the size of the family budget.” Oh — and be confident: “You come over on TV like gangbusters,” while Carter “comes across like a little man ... [so] you will certainly win the audience. [Wife] Pat and I will be watching and counting our Chinese good luck beads! Best regards to Nancy.”
In a later memo, Nixon eagerly proffered one-liners he urged Reagan to use in the campaign’s final weeks. Obviously, Nixon wasn’t as good at these as Reagan was, but, well, Nixon really wanted to help: “Carter vs. Reagan: a man with ambition vs. a man with a mission.” And “Where others have a soul, Carter has a poll.” “I don’t question [Carter’s] sincerity. What concerns me is that he believes so sincerely in the wrong things.” A week later, Nixon hand-scribbled to Khachigian that Reagan should run a Halloween ad making fun of Carter’s “fear and smear” campaign.
Once Reagan won, Nixon kept writing memos: how to handle the transition into office, who to appoint, how to make Cabinet meetings more useful, and what to say in the inaugural address. Even when Reagan had been in office for years, Nixon sent him unsolicited advice — on taxes, on budget negotiations, and on the reelection campaign against Walter Mondale. Before the decisive final debate in that campaign, Nixon sent a pep talk: “You have every reason to be confident in the outcome. ... You will win an overwhelming victory in the popular vote on Election Day.”
As far back as 1976, when Reagan challenged Nixon’s former vice president Gerald Ford for the Republican nomination, Nixon, throughout the months of contest, had expressed to Khachigian a surprising level of admiration for Reagan despite, and partly because of, Reagan’s earlier challenge to Nixon himself in 1968. And he was perspicacious, too, about Nancy Reagan’s role in her husband’s career: “His wife’s classy, too, the way Nancy’s been conducting herself.” But, of all those in Reagan’s orbit, he said astutely, “she’s the toughest of the bunch.”
Capping off the book is a wonderful account, based on Khachigian’s copious, contemporaneous notes, of a 1990 personal courtesy meeting between both now-retired presidents, with just Khachigian and two other observers. The 46-minute conversation comes across as both insightful and also, well, charming. They spoke of the different reasons each loved the Camp David presidential retreat, about Nixon’s admiration for Reagan’s continuing ability, at age 79, to ride a horse, about Reagan campaigning in 1950 for Nixon’s Democratic opponent for the Senate, and about how hard it is to write a presidential memoir — “worse than having a baby,” said Reagan, who then added laughingly: “although I’ve never had a baby.”
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But then they spoke of the rapidly changing Soviet Union, of their impressions of Soviet premier Mikhail Gorbachev, and of the proper balance between a strong defense and arms reductions. Even in private and in retirement, these two men were dedicated to statecraft.
Anyway, read about that meeting yourself: It’s flat-out good stuff. And it shows that after Watergate’s “long national nightmare,” Nixon eventually emerged in a state of graciousness. It’s always a joy to read of redemptions.
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