The party last week was not really a surprise—not with the Navy band beating out rock'n'roll, not with some 2,200 presidential aides and secretaries and third assistant deputies all crammed into the East Room of the White House—but Jerry Ford beamed and chuckled and acted just as though he had forgotten it was his own 62nd birthday. His doctor had given him a checkup and pronounced him fit, and so did Comedian Flip Wilson, who came to the party as Nurse Geraldine in a red wig and white uniform. Nobody minded that a little fun was made of the President. On the walls there were cartoons of his spill on the steps of Air Force One when he arrived in Salzburg last June.
The scene was typical of the new and relaxed mood at the White House, and across the nation, as the President nears the end of his first year in office. Not even Ford's opponents can deny that he has performed far better than anyone had reason to expect. The child of Congress has become the political master of the White House. He is no intellectual, he is no innovator, but his candor, diligence and common sense have gained respect for his presidency. Few people crack jokes any more about his inability to chew gum and walk at the same time. Nor do they ask him, as a reporter did last fall, whether he is "intellectually up to the job of being the President." The Harris Poll, which showed him trailing Ted Kennedy by 43% to 50% as recently as last April, now puts him in front by the same margin. A Georgia survey indicates that he is also strong among conservatives. In a state that gave George Wallace more votes than either Richard Nixon or Hubert Humphrey in 1968, Ford trounces the Alabaman by 51.6% to 40.2%.
Ford's current stature is based partly on his successes: his series of vetoes of Democratic spending measures, his rescue of the Mayaguez from the Cambodians, his growing forcefulness in dealing with foreign leaders. But his popularity rests, above all, on the change of tone he has brought to the White House. In contrast to his immediate predecessors, he is approachable, conciliatory and not consumed by personal ambition. He has divested the presidency of its imperial pretensions—with the invaluable assistance of his close-knit but independent-minded family (see page 10). So intent is he on demythologizing the nation's highest office that he has put a virtual ban on the playing of Hail to the Chief; he prefers to hear bands strike up the University of Michigan fight song, The Victors.
Ford is obviously at home in the White House; more important, he seems to be at home with himself, secure enough to take criticism and attack without resorting to the vengeful tactics of previous Chief Executives, much less the illegal activities of Richard Nixon. His enemies' list, if he has one, must be the shortest on record. By his own behavior, he has blotted out the sordidness of the Nixon years. It was no inconsiderable achievement to free the Republican Party from the stigma of Watergate and deprive the Democrats of an issue they might have used for many years to come. Ford has, in effect, restored the presidency to the American people, and the response has been one of relief and gratitude.