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Nixon goes to lunch in the family quarters at 12:30, takes a 20-minute postprandial nap and returns to the West Wing around 3 o'clock. At about 6, he goes to the White House swimming pool, dons trunks and splashes through four or five laps, as recommended by his doctor. Back at the family quarters an hour later, he often meets a small group for cocktails. Last week the Republican congressional leaders came by for shoptalk, and Barry Goldwater dropped in for a drink. Nixon normally sticks to Dubonnet on the rocks, but if he is in a particularly good mood he will down a couple of dry martinis. Dinner is either with the family or a black-tie affair for eight or ten guests. Afterward, Nixon retires to the Lincoln sitting room and tackles the blue folders that Haldeman has tucked into the President's old tan attache case, often working until 1 or 2 a.m.
Nixon has taken a deliberately go-slow approach to the nation's problems, and he has yet to produce anything resembling a full legislative program. He can move abruptly at times, however. He announced his plan to end Post Office patronage without consulting the congressional postal committees. While he had first counseled against haste in filling the more than 100 sub-Cabinet jobs still vacant, he ordered a speedup before leaving for Europe.
Nixon's associates promise that legislative recommendations will soon "start popping like firecrackers"—including a "blockbuster" on crime. The President has sent out no fewer than 94 directives asking for reports and proposals across the spectrum of domestic problems. "The pace looks faster from the inside," says one of his urban-affairs advisers. "He's established some pretty firm machinery, and it's starting to crank out some pretty important action now. But it isn't frantic, and it won't be."
"I think he's getting more job satisfaction than he has at any time in his life," says a longtime associate. Adds another aide: "You might even say he's more human." His sense of humor has not suffered, as he showed when John Ehrlichman related to him a conversation with Charles de Gaulle in Paris. The French President was fascinated by Ehrlichman's intricate duties as chief campaign advance man in 1968: organizing the ballyhoo, the bands, the balloons, the crowds. "By the way," Ehrlichman told Nixon, "I signed up for three months in 1972 to handle De Gaulle's campaign." "But," said Nixon, "haven't we got something on in 1972?"