A dying brother, a strange dream, a wild drive...
Richard Nixon's Memoirs, which became available to TIME last week and will go on sale in bookstores next week, contribute relatively little that is new to his Watergate story. But anyone who is interested in international politics will find in his 1,120-page volume a mountain of both intriguing and tedious personal detail on Nixon's pursuit of detente with Soviet leaders, his opening of diplomatic relations with Communist China, and his ending the U.S. involvement in Viet Nam.
In recounting his life, both public and private, Nixon skips jarringly from family anecdotes to petty political concerns and to high affairs of state. For many readers, this may be primarily a book to be skimmed, in search of those Nixonian nuggets that say so much about the man and his quite special view of his times. Some samples:
On Brother Arthur. As soon as he saw me alone, my youngest brother, Arthur, greeted me with a solemn kiss on the cheek. I later learned that he had asked my mother if it would be proper for him to kiss me since I had been away. Even at that early age [Arthur was 7, Dick 12] he had acquired our family's reticence about open displays of affection. A short time after we returned to Whittier, Arthur complained of a headache. Arthur's condition deteriorated quickly, and the doctor was unable to find the cause. I remember my father coming downstairs. It was the first time I had ever seen him cry. He said, "The doctors are afraid the little darling is going to die." Just before we left, we went upstairs to see our brother. He had asked for one of his favorite dishes, tomato gravy on toast; we brought some up with us, and I remember how much he enjoyed it. Two days later he died. The doctor said that it was tubercular encephalitis.
On his honeymoon. After we were on our way, we discovered that our friends had removed the labels from all the cans, and thus every meal became a game of chance. Several times we ended up having pork and beans for breakfast and grapefruit slices for dinner.
On the 1960 presidential campaign. We were faced by an organization that had equal dedication and unlimited money. led by the most ruthless group of political operators ever mobilized for a presidential campaign. I had been burned by the power of the Kennedys and their money and by the license they were given by the media.
On being a lawyer. I had finally come to the realization [in 1965] that there was no other life for me but politics and public service. Even when my legal work was at its most interesting I never found it truly fulfilling. If all I had was my legal work, I would be mentally dead in two years and physically dead in four.
On entering the White House. I slept only about four hours my first night in the White House, and was up at 6:45 a.m. While I was shaving, I remembered the hidden safe that Johnson had shown me during our visit in November. When I opened it, the safe looked empty. Then I saw a thin folder on the top shelf. It contained the daily Viet Nam Situation Report for the previous day, Johnson's last day in office. The last page contained the latest casualty figures. I closed the folder and put it back in the safe and left it there until the war was over, a constant reminder of its tragic cost.