THE MAN WHO PRETENDS HE’S PRESIDENT

Press, Volume CXVI, Issue 34130, 17 April 1976, Page 12

THE MAN WHO PRETENDS HE’S PRESIDENT

It is 20 months since Richard Nixon left the White House; but, in the cloistered world of San Clemente, he is still the most important politician in America. ROSS MADDEN reports from San Clemente.

The atmosphere in the outer office is hushed. The American flag’, on a pole topped by a gilded eagle, stands in the corner of the room amid a mass of framed photographs.

An aide sits at a walnut desk, a battery of telephones at his side. A buzzer sounds and a red light winks on the top of a bright green phone. The aide picks up the receiver, and almost subconsciously straightens in. his seat. Then he tells the man sitting in a chair by the window: “The President will see you now.” He is talking about Richard Nixon, who resigned in disgrace from the Presidency over 20 months ago; but inside the strange and cloistered world of San Clemente, California, that event seems to have had little significance.

Every day, Richard Nixon, now 63, and in improved, though still delicate health, is at his desk at nine o’clock, anxious to get on with the business of the day, ready for the stream of callers which for so long was an integral part of his life. The only difference is that today, there is no business, half-a-dozen visitors a week is exceptional, and his aides have been cut from 30 to six.

There are cabbages growing in the rosebeds, and Mrs Pat Nixon, with an eye on the water rates, has forbidden the use of hose-pipes. But these are differences that Richard Nixon has apparently not noticed.

“I won’t go so far as to say he thinks he is President of the United States, but he certainly thinks he is the most important man in the country,” says

a family friend who still visits San Clemente. “I have known him 35 years and yet I still have to write for an appointment. Routines are just how they were at the White House. It’s downright eerie.”

Observers believe that Nixon’s latest tour of China has greatly strengthened the former President’s claim that America needs him as a “roving ambassador.” Richard Nixon’s refusal to change his White House life-style in spite of the grotesquelychanged circumstances ns deeply embarassing the Ford administration in election year.

Every morning Richard Nixon pretends he is President. He wears an immaculate grey suit, sparkling white shirt, and a silver-grey tie secured by a pin with a presidential seal.

The flag-draped and pin-neat private office is exactly as it was in the days of his presidency. The difference is that outside the windows the swimming-pool is choked with debris, and the helicopter pad has been converted into a volley-ball court for families at the nearby Coast Guard station.

At lunchtime he strolls with an aide — usually his faithful former press secretary Ronald Ziegler — through the grounds, and may spend a few minutes on his three-hole golf-course, its turf now a mass of weed. In the afternoon he settles down to his memoirs, propping his phlebitisprone leg on a stool alongside his desk and writing rapidly in yellow notepads which are then collected and transcribed by a secretary. Mid-afternoon is reserved for “briefing sessions.” But few people want to brief a disgraced President, although he still receives a weekly

White' House report on what are called “basic political situations” and the Secretary of State, Henry Kissinger, makes a brief phone call about once a month.

His former White House secretary, Rosemary Woods, still runs a small office in Washington for a salary of about £17,000 a year, and her daily reports are a highlight of Nixon’s routine.

Money, too, is a constant problem to a man who got used to an extremely high standard of life. His state pension of more than £lOO,OOO a year is still largely being used to pay off income tax and other personal debts.

Recently he was forced to sell 19 acres of land around San Clemente, but didn’t see a dollar of the money- It all went to the tax man.

In a two-car cavalcade, he regularly rides to the beach at nearby Camp Pendleton for a brisk walk along the dunes and is delighted if anyone stops him for a chat or an autograph. Today Richard Nixon behaves very much as he always did. Official plaques and awards decorate his walls. His blue leisure-time sweaters all bear a replica of the presidential seal. He still gives away gift ball-point pens with the American eagle on them.

A former White House staff member said: “He’s greyer, slower, and more stooped. But the will to win is still there. He may have lost the battle, but he’s still taking bets on the final outcome of the war!”

Nothing can shake his dream. On his instructions, the large sign proclaiming “The Home of the Western White House” remains on the high wall by the elec-trically-operated gates.