Known and Unknown_ A Memoir - Donald Rumsfeld [93]
The stunning news shook Ford’s inner circle. The press secretary he had just recruited and announced, Jerry terHorst, resigned in protest. Among the general public, the pardon provoked a vicious reaction. Many Americans at the time believed that Nixon had been involved in the cover-up and was getting away with it. Ford’s own motives came under scrutiny, with the suggestion that the pardon might be the result of a secret deal. Al Haig’s continuing presence as White House chief of staff seemed to give credence to the allegation, since Haig had been involved in persuading Nixon to step down. Suddenly a suspicious figure, Ford plummeted precipitously in the opinion polls.
Knowing Ford as well as I did, I was convinced he would not have been part of a deal with Nixon.23 Instead, I thought this had been a decision that Ford had made without consulting very many others and without carefully considering how and when it might best be done and what the impact might be on him personally. Accepting that the pardon was the right thing to do—and by now even many of Ford’s harshest critics have since conceded that it was—there is little question but that it could have been handled in a better manner.* For one, Ford might have surfaced the notion with key leaders in the House and Senate, to keep them from being stunned. He might have talked it over with a trusted group of aides to ensure his announcement and tone were properly calibrated and supported by his staff. But he appeared to have done none of those things.
Nixon did little to help. His six-paragraph statement accepting the pardon stopped short of admitting any guilt in the Watergate matter. “No words can describe the depths of my regret and pain at the anguish my mistakes over Watergate have caused the nation,” he said. He might have tried harder to find some.
As those decisions were made, my focus was elsewhere. I had already returned to Brussels on August 22, 1974—the day after the transition team submitted our report and the day before our daughter Valerie departed for her first year of college. While I followed what was happening in Washington, D.C., I also had my hands full at NATO with the ongoing Cyprus crisis.
Then, on September 16, 1974, my father died at the age of sixty-nine. He was not only my father, but also a close friend. I sometimes called him George, as you would a pal. When I married Joyce, he was my immediate choice as my best man.25
His death was a blow, even though it was not altogether unexpected. Alzheimer’s had started to set in when he was in his early sixties. The disease can be toughest on the spouse, and it was certainly hard for my mother. They had had a lifetime love affair. When Dad’s condition deteriorated, my sister, Joan, and I encouraged Mom to make the difficult decision to move Dad to a nearby nursing home, for his safety. For the last year of his life, Mom spent most of every day there with him, even though he no longer recognized her.
When I traveled to the States from Belgium, I would stop in Washington to handle my NATO business and at the end of the day fly to Chicago to see my parents. My father’s brain was working in ways that made him agitated. But sometimes while I was with him there would seem to be a small spark of recognition. He would smile and I would think, or at least hope, he might have had a moment of clarity and happiness as he recognized me or my mother. But just as quickly as that moment came, it was gone. When I left him I would wonder to myself if what I had taken to be recognition had been there at all.
I was at my parents’ home outside Chicago preparing for my father’s funeral service when I received a call from the White House operator, who then brought President Ford on the line. His voice was full of warmth and concern. The President said he wanted