The whispers were caroming in the White House hallways, especially about how the president behaved last month when 100,000 protesters converged on Washington after the Kent State shootings. The president stayed awake all night, playing classical music at top volume, sipping cocktails, and peeking through a window at the demonstrators’ candlelight vigils. Then he began making phone calls—more than 50 in all—jarring dozens of surprised friends and advisors out of their sleep. Finally, after 4 am, he summoned his Cuban American manservant, Manolo Sanchez, and ordered Secret Service agents to drive them to the Lincoln Memorial.
Climbing up the steps with Manolo beside him, Nixon entered the lair of the hippies. The student demonstrators crawled out of their sleeping bags, astonished to see the president of the United States, the bogeyman himself, interrupting their dreams. “I know most of you think I’m an SOB, but I want you to know that I understand just how you feel,” Nixon announced.
As the students rubbed sleep out of their eyes, the president rambled on about his desire for peace and his admiration for Winston Churchill, whom Nixon had originally believed “was a madman.” Secret Service agents tried to pull him away, but he kept talking. He discussed college football and traveling abroad, and he recommended the students surf the beach near his home in San Clemente, California.
The kids were spooked. “He didn’t look at anyone in the eyes; he was mumbling,” one said later. Another told a reporter, “He looked scared and nervous like he was in a fog. His eyes were glassy.”
The Secret Service tried to coax him back to the White House, but Nixon insisted on taking Manolo to Capitol Hill. It was nearly dawn when the president ordered the House of Representatives unlocked. He took a seat and asked his manservant to make a speech from the speaker’s dais, from the same podium used for State of the Union addresses.
Manolo hesitated.
“Manolo, say something!” the president commanded.