On this date in 1974, Richard Nixon resigned the presidency and left Washington. He did so to avoid the stain of impeachment, which had become inevitable. The 37th U.S. president had announced his resignation, the first in U.S. history, the night before from the Oval Office.
"I have never been a quitter," Nixon said somberly. "To leave office before my term is completed is abhorrent to every instinct in my body. But as president, I must put the interests of America first. Therefore, I shall resign the presidency, effective at noon tomorrow."
"By taking this action," Nixon added, "I hope that I will have hastened the start of the process of healing which is so desperately needed in America."
The president's solemn tone was echoed by the coverage of this historic event in the news media, Nixon's longtime nemesis, and among the congressional Democrats who'd brought it about.
Linda Wertheimer, then a young Capitol Hill reporter for National Public Radio, later remembered House Judiciary Committee Chairman Peter Rodino's affecting demeanor on the eve of the decisive vote. "Peter Rodino was in tears," she said. "And he wasn't the only one. I mean, there were people sitting around the room. There were staff people, other members of Congress … who were crying because this was such a dramatic moment and they were frightened by what they were doing and couldn't see any way not to do it."
There were plenty of tears on the Republican side, too. Just an hour before he spoke to the American people, Nixon invited nearly 50 supporters from Congress to the White House when he informed them of his decision. While speaking, Nixon had to leave the room to compose himself. "He just told us that the country couldn't operate with a half-time President," Barry Goldwater told reporters. "Then he broke down and cried and he had to leave the room. Then the rest of us broke down and cried."
The contrasts in decorum between the impeachment proceedings of Nixon and Donald Trump were stark, as the breaking story about yesterday's FBI raid of the former president's Florida home underscores anew.
If you take your cue on political events from the zealots on Twitter or the partisan hysterics on cable news, as too many Americans apparently do, you probably consider the FBI's raid Monday on Mar-a-Lago either (a) evidence of a partisan power play by jack-booted federal agents of a corrupt "regime" bent on destroying Americans' freedoms and criminalizing political dissent; or (b) the only possible choice a democratic nation could make in the face of a former president who is a narcissistic and lawless criminal bent on fomenting revolution to put himself in power.
Americans have always been passionate about our politics, but for more than a century the news media in this country modulated the craziness that naturally accompanies hyper-partisanship. Not any longer. On MSNBC this morning, Joe Scarborough was shrieking about the "fascists" (Republicans, I think he means) rushing to Trump's support and about how Trump needs to go prison. Scarborough might have muttered something about going to trial first. If so, I missed it.
Meanwhile, Fox News was trumpeting Trump's claim that Mar-a-Lago was "under siege" by federal agents, highlighting Republican House members' demand for an FBI briefing for this "unprecedented" activity, and howling about the "weaponization" of the Department of Justice.
My instinct is that the truth lies somewhere in the middle, a middle that once dominated political news coverage in the U.S., but which is not always easy to find today. The news business has certainly changed in the five decades since Richard Nixon was president, but I wonder: Have the American people changed that much as well?
My guess is no, but it's certainly an open question. I do know that the real-time coverage of Watergate and its aftermath -- the abdication of authority by a sitting president -- tells a different kind of story than we're seeing today.
Linda Wertheimer, who I referenced above, recalled in 2014 that NPR opened its studios to calls from the audience the day Nixon stepped down. The results were heartening to her:
"I'm from Baltimore, Maryland, and my name is Margaret Combs," one caller began. "I am a registered Democrat. However, I hope I'm sensible enough to say that I'm sorry for Mr. Nixon because I feel that..."
Another caller from Maryland named Elmer Frey said he wanted to respond to a previous caller who said it was "a very sad day" for America.
"However, it is also a very auspicious day," he said. "It represents the fact that the American system works -- that one can, by democratic process, remove the most powerful man in the country from his office when he has…"
And so it went. Wertheimer remembers being comforted by the callers. "I just can't tell you how amazing they were," she told fellow NPR interviewer David Greene. "They were philosophical. The talked about how we've gone through difficult times before. We will get through this … And I was so proud. And I remember feeling, ‘Okay, we're going to be okay.'"
It's not that easy these days to feel that things will turn out well, partly because the current media business model seems based on stoking chaos. But 48 years ago today, the Washington Post -- the newspaper Nixon hated and had threatened -- played it straight. Chief White House correspondent Carroll Kilpatrick ended his Page One story this way:
"A White House spokesman said more than 10,000 telephone calls were received in the past two days expressing ‘disbelief and the hope that the President would not resign.' Thursday was a wet, humid August day, but despite intermittent rain the crowds packed the sidewalks in front of the White House. It was an orderly crowd, resigned and curious, watching newsmen come and go and being a part of a dramatic moment in the life of the nation."
Carl M. Cannon is the Washington bureau chief for RealClearPolitics. Reach him on Twitter @CarlCannon.
