Flight of Three Presidents

(2 of 5)

"One of the finest speeches I've ever heard," praised Ford, speaking of the brief, touching text crafted finally by Reagan from material assembled by his staff.

Then they hurried back onto the chopper to lift off for Andrews Air Force Base. Looking down at the White House, Nixon, struggling to break the ice, said, "I kind of like that house down there, don't you?" Old angers and hatreds were beginning to fall away.

Meantime, Air Force Lieut. Colonel Monty Stokes, 26000's pilot, glanced over his gleaming ship. It had been plied with Turtle Wax, polished, cleaned, fueled and stocked. Terry Yamada, the chief steward, remembered that Ford liked butter-pecan ice cream, and he requisitioned a couple of quarts. He added some Don Diego cigars for Nixon, a secret indulgence. Yamada made certain that he had enough footies and eye masks for the 23-hr. 35-min. round-trip journey.

Crab claws, beef tenderloins and breakfast eggs were stacked in the galley.

To give the Presidents a touch of the old class, Canzeri had rustled up matches with their names printed on the covers along with the Presidential Seal. Briefing books on the funeral (unclassified) and on the political dangers following Sadat's death (classified) were neatly laid out in the seats. At 7:45 p.m.

SAM 26000 lumbered into the air.

From their seats, Illinois Senator Charles Percy and Sol Linowitz, Carter's former Middle East envoy, peered forward, curious about the Presidents.

There had been a detectable coolness between Ford and Carter, even between Ford and Nixon. Suddenly Carter pulled on his beige cardigan sweater. Ford stood up in shirt sleeves. Nixon joined them in his blue suit. As a White House photographer began to click away, Nixon ran interference with self-deprecating one-liners: "They don't want pictures with me."

But they did. Congressman Clement Zablocki of Wisconsin and William Broomfield of Michigan asked for autographs.

Rosalynn toured the cabin shaking hands. Nixon was meticulously polite to her. But he seemed defensive as he walked up and down the aisle. Eyes carefully shrouded, looking right and left. Ready to reach for a hand to shake, but only if it was proffered. He would not force himself on others. Yet beneath the reserve he was clearly jubilant. He was back where it counted, at the center of things.

One observer watched him with a kind of tender contempt. How could he—and yet why not? Nixon had been disgraced, the other two had been turned down by the electorate; all, for those few hours, were sipping again at the cup of power.

It went to all three presidential heads.