Monthly Archives: April 2011

Good Times: From SoCal Sun to NHL Ice

In looking for photos for my tribute to “The Lost Generation” of federal archivists (the people NARA officials failed to mention at the opening of the Watergate exhibit on March 31, 2011), I set aside a few for a follow up post.  This one centers of Southern California and on the National Hockey League Capitals practice session I attended with a Nixon Presidential Materials Project colleague during the 1980s.  This morning, I also added a few photos to my Wednesday post about The Lost Generation, so if you’ve already looked at that, check back to see the additions. 

So let’s go from SoCal to NHL ice chronologically.  In 1978, the National Archives sent me as part of a team of archivists to Laguna Niguel, California on Temporary Duty assignment (TDY).   During the two-week assignment, we reviewed some pre-presidential Nixon records held at the Federal Records Center in Laguna Niguel.  Here’s an article which describes the recent move by NARA out of the “Ziggurat,” as the building is called for its striking architecture.  A friend and colleague who was part of the Nixon Project review team took some photos of us in the room where we did our review work as well as atop the building.  Since the photographer is not pictured in the photos he took, I’ve put in a separate photo of him as part of my tribute to The Lost Generation, top left.  I still laugh in seeing the photo below at the memory of my colleague telling me he would take more pictures that showed me but my face was too shiny!  Hah.  Well, friends keep it real.

Ken Rossman of the National Archives at left with the DC area review team out in SoCal on TDY, 1978

I’ve misplaced some of the photos I myself took out in California (oh noes, what “they” said was true after all; she was a bad archivist).  Here are a few that I found in a quick search of my old photos at home.  One shows me with two colleagues outside the Laguna Niguel FRC.  Both Pat and Mike still work at NARA.  My favorite photo of Pat is one I took of her at the White House around the same time (1978 or so).  Pictured behind her are actor George Peppard and President Jimmy Carter.  This was during a White House staff picnic (we all were OEOB pass holders then).

The other photos show us on the weekend at Laguna Beach.  That’s as OC as you’ll ever see me looking, ha!  All that heat and sun?*  Not my natural style.  I like sharp contrasts in seasons (I’ve always lived in the mid-Atlantic).  

 

It mostly was work during the SoCal TDY although I do remember our National Archives’ team going out to dinner with Nixon representative Ken Khachigian at El Adobe Restaurant in San Juan Capistrano.  We had heard that Richard Nixon had dined there sometimes.  I very much doubt Khachigian remembers us Nartians.  (The agency then still was NARS.)  What do I remember of the evening?  Sangria.  (Even with all the wine, I never told Khachigian I had voted for Nixon or that I then was a Republican.  My impartial Archives acculturation was pretty strong, huh?)  Actually, that’s not all I remember–there were some interesting convos, too, as you can imagine. 

So from sun to ice.  When I worked out at the Nixon Project at Pickett Street in Alexandria, Virginia, I mostly spent my lunch breaks out walking (Sony Walkman)!   Occasionally I went shopping or out to lunch with friends.  One of my most memorable outings was when my friend and colleague Lori and I went out to the nearby Mount Vernon Recreation Center, where the NHL Capitals then held some of their practice sessions. 

My late sister Eva (also a NARA employee) and I were big hockey fans.  We sometimes went to games at the old Cap Centre with our friends Mark and Laurie Fischer or with a good family friend who also worked at NARA.  The photo above shows us at a game during the Christmas season in 1989, if I remember correctly.  Yeah, I am wearing one Orioles earring and one Caps earring.  Eva joined Lori and me for the short trip to the rec center (she signed for leave and came out on the shuttle from Declass at main NARA downtown).   Here are some pix from that outing.  Notice defenseman Rod Langway (5) in the first photo.  He was the last NHL player to play without wearing a helmet.

Good times!  Hey, it’s not like we sat around the workplace thinking OMG we are doomed, “they’re” going to betray us or attack us, hah!  We lived like anyone else and we knew how to have fun, definitely. 

Many memories to cherish from my time with NARA NLNP.  Nice to be able to share some today.

*Needless to say, given what happened later, I really protect myself from the sun these days. . . .

“All back full!” (The Hunt for Red October)

Richard Nixon once said, “The finest steel goes through the hottest fire.” Some go through trials and tribulations, become steel, but are crippled by internal flaws.   Others go through equally tough times and find grace as well as strength.

When the new Watergate exhibit opened on March 31, 2011 at the federal Nixon Presidential Library, former Nixon foundation director John H. Taylor wrote at his blog that

“it was high time for the Nixon library, now in its 21st year, to grow up and accept that the judgment of history, no matter how it comes out for Nixon, lies beyond the reach of advocacy by family, friends, consultants, and especially those whose own reputations hang in the balance alongside the president they served, often honorably but sometimes, as this new exhibit shows, not.”

He won praise from the Los Angeles Times for his reaction:

“In all the brouhaha over the exhibit, we most admired the comments of John Taylor, a longtime Nixon aide who ultimately concluded that it should go up. ‘If we’re really sure the president over time will be seen as the great president some of us believe he is, we can’t be afraid of what someone might say that’s critical,’ Taylor said.”

I was probably the least surprised reader of that editorial. And I had the longest road to travel to get there.  In 1992, Nixon’s lawyers called my archival cohort “incompetent,”  as lawyers do in advocacy when trying to “impeach.”  Ouch.  Then, in 1996, Taylor and I sparred in dueling letters in the Chronicle of Higher Education. In 1998, I was surprised at the criticism he leveled at my archival cohort in The American Spectator, although in retrospect, he did have some of us pegged correctly as “Hardy Boys.”

It’s almost routine these days to see pundits wring their hands over toxic public discourse and worry about over-reliance on taunting. (I’m not even going to try to Google the terms “politics” and “junior high.”)  One of the difficulties for the National Archives and Records Administration (NARA) in carrying out its mission lies in the fact that the culture of the historian (which many of its employees and customers are) and the politician are so different. As I noted in my first post here on December 6, 2010:

“The political world depends on personal loyalty. While in office, presidents are surrounded by aides who often offer knee jerk defenses of the principal, at best, and mud slinging at critics, at worst. Acting U.S. Archivist Frank Burke once wrote that NARA serves ‘not to implement the programs of the administration in office but to protect the records, good and bad, of the administrations of the past.’ I believe that it may be hard for representatives of the two cultures, one based on the concept of loyalty to man and party and often defensive in posture, the other fact based and objective and open in posture, to explain their objectives and values to each other.”

That Taylor and I sniped at each other in 1996 is not surprising.  It was only four years since my difficult testimony experience in Kutler v. Wilson.  And two years since the death of Richard Nixon, whom Taylor served (seemingly well to this outside observer) as chief of staff and later Nixon Foundation director.  Just as it takes time to process grief, it takes time to gain perspective on the tough experiences we undergo. In 1996, both of us probably were fed up with seeing reductionism and cartoonish images used in narratives related to our work. But it took us a while to realize we had options other than battling each other.

In February 2008, Taylor, then still associated with the Nixon Foundation, started a group blog, The New Nixon (TNN). I discovered it in June 2008. I didn’t read the archived posts until later, I just looked around at what was on the site that summer. Then I took a deep breath and posted a comment under an essay by Taylor.  [Original link no longer works due to revision of website.  My comment at TNN in 2008 still is available via the Internet Archive here.]

In an email today, I asked John what his reaction was when I showed up at TNN. My late sister, a staunch Nixon supporter, used to laugh at me, the political Independent, and call me a gadfly. (Yeah, sisters keep it real, don’t they?) Taylor responded this way (I have his permission to quote from his message to me today):

“I remember very clearly what I thought when you posted. You were coming on a Nixon site making a substantive comment, evincing no rancor or hard feelings about our prior published exchanges. If you’ve seen ‘Hunt For Red October,’ what you did was like when Scott Glenn orders ‘all back full,’ knowing the Russian will hear him and possibly blow him out of the water — but he suspects not. I thought, ‘How gracious of her; it’s a peace offering; and if I want this blog to mean anything, it’s exactly what we need.’ I doubt whether I’d have had the courage to act as you did, but it doesn’t matter; I didn’t need to.”

His posted response to me at the time at the blog? A one liner, but a very astute one: “Ms. Krusten: Thank you for your thoughtful post.” My response? I thought to myself, “hooray, we might be able to make some breakthroughs, the historian/former archivist and the Nixon Foundation representative.” And we did, at TNN until January 2009, then at his individual blog, The Episconixonian, and since December 2010 at mine. By the end of 2010, we were tag-teaming in supportof Tim Naftali, federal director of the Nixon Presidential Library, in his efforts to put up an historically sound Watergate exhibit.

So, why did I show up at TNN? Well, remember, I voted for Nixon. I haven’t forgotten why. The same year that John and I exchanged fire in the CHE’s letters section, I wrote in an article published in Presidential Studies Quarterly that Nixon had been “demonized beyond belief” while in office and that his distrust of historians was understandable. Truth be told, I wanted to help the Nixon Foundation. Here it was in partnership now with NARA, my old employer. Most of the reporting on the establishment of the federal Nixon library had little nuance, in my view. NARA was painted one way, the Foundation another. Why not see if I could help the Foundation people out of what looked like a pretty deep hole?

I enjoyed my exchanges with John at TNN.  Seeing his reactions to Rick Perlstein’s Nixonland was really interesting. He was especially good in discussing the Ellsberg break-in.   (Perlstein joined some of the convos, too.)  However, things changed when Taylor left the Foundation around January 2009 to become full-time Vicar at St. John Chrysostom Episcopal Church and School.

I hung around the Taylor-less Nixon blog for a little over a year. But I largely stopped posting comments at The New Nixon in the spring of 2010. As I wrote in an essay for the History News Network, some of the anti-Obama pieces baffled me.  (Around May 2010 I realized that they mostly were mirror posts by a blogger from Townhall). I kept urging the bloggers to use their unique knowledge to educate members of the public in an objective, non-partisan way, on what it was like to work in Washington and in the White House. Otherwise, the site would just mirror what you’d see on any conservative political blog. Few takers, unfortunately.

The lack of response from the bloggers to posted comments baffled me, as well. I didn’t understand that. Social media provide opportunities for engagement.  Putting up posts and remaining silent when people responded mystified me as a tactical choice. (I’ve seen historians do that, too.)   [Added Wednesday morning:  In the post-Taylor era, only David Emig, who presented as a moderate politically, seemed willing to engage with demonstrated comfort with those commenting on his essays at TNN.  He only posted essays sporadically, however.]

How people use blogs depends on what is their strategic vision for the effort, of course. The Nixon side had a certain reputation. In expressing some frustration over an article David Greenberg wrote around 2006, John Taylor said recently, “it was assumed that Nixon aides would all act a certain way, as we had always assumed about archivists and scholars.” In response, I admitted to having been in contact with Greenberg at the time and said some of what he wrote may have reflected what he heard from me about my experiences as a NARA employee.

So, missed opportunities for The New Nixon bloggers to position themselves for what lay ahead, including the controversy over the Watergate exhibit. Too bad. The former archivist did try to help them, although perhaps only Taylor saw that.

The political world often shows signs of an argument culture but it isn’t always kumbaya within the academy and in some professional forums, either. Far from it. Donald Hall covered some of the issues in “Collegiality and Graduate School Training” in Inside Higher Ed in 2006. He observed that

“The most stressful and (in retrospect) useless courses that I took as a grad student were ones that pitted student against student in forms of antagonistic and hyper-competitive gamesmanship. To be sure, some of us were able to compete adroitly in such an environment; after all, graduate students are usually quick witted and driven to succeed, otherwise they wouldn’t have made it, or even wanted to make it, as far as graduate school.

Some of us were quite able to marshal a caustic comment, point out a flaw with deadly accuracy, and try always to make the smartest comment in class and thereby effectively keep center stage — if the professor demanded and rewarded such behavior.”

In Hall’s view,

“It is not useful or responsible to encourage students to attack, demean, or ‘toughen up’ each other. While vigorous debate and disagreement should always be welcomed, encouraging hyper-competitiveness and combativeness among graduate students simply creates and re-creates an academic culture of egotism, suspicion, and generally anti-social behavior. We reap the harvest of that training in our own overly contentious faculty meetings and vicious departmental squabbles.”

How often do you see political players analyze their world in public with anything close to that level of insight or awareness or courage or honesty ? Not often! No wonder NARA keeps getting caught in culture clashes, time and again.

Halls’ advice for handling classroom discussions has applicability for blogging, in my view.  Just today I saw what might have been a flame war averted in an archival forum because the people took a mature approach to expressing their differences. Hall explained,

“I do not demand consensus and certainly allow for expressions of dissent in a group report back to the class. However, what I do expect is a willingness to engage in dialogue and to articulate some shared goals or points of agreement, even if significant differences remain. As students respond to each other’s work in class — whether in group settings or in individual presentations — I also ask that they commend what is positive and successful even if they express disagreement or find problems with an argument or a specific line of reasoning. Productive conversation always demands a dynamic of generosity even in the midst of significant disagreement.”

Before he died, Lee Atwater said, “My illness helped me to see that what was missing in society is what was missing in me: a little heart, a lot of brotherhood.”

No one is perfect. No one is right all the time. No one has all the answers. What’s missing more and more in the political world is the dynamic of generosity that Hall describes. That means that whether in blogging or debating on radio or tv, people with a political mindset too often play a weak hand when they think they have a strong one.

Grace and a dash of humility make listening easier and learning more likely to occur. John Taylor taught me that by the way he welcomed me to his Nixon blog.  Lesson learned!

She died. Who helped?

A gay Lutheran pastor, who later was defrocked, conducted my twin sister’s memorial service in December 2002. He had her gentle and courageous blessing.   I’ll explain how and why in a minute. He’s pictured here speaking at her memorial service.

My sister Eva knew from the time that she was diagnosed in July 2001 with late stage cancer (melanoma) that she would die soon. She told me the day she learned she had melanoma, “I accept God’s plan. I’ve had a good life.” She was 50 years old at the time.  Eighteen months later she died.  She was proud that she went out as a paid federal employee (no anti-gov hateration, pls).

I’ve been thinking about Eva of late. I learned last week that my boss, a member of the federal senior executive service, is in hospice and may not live longer than a week.

I’m glad I had a chance to hug my boss in January and to thank him for being a good man and an exemplary public servant. It’s a fed thing. Bureaucrat bashers wouldn’t understand. Neither would some others. Whatever.   Here’s one glimpse at what made me quit posting to a records management forum a few years ago.  (There were other issues, too.) My response to being smacked down there is here.

My sister understood diversity. And reveled in gender blending.  Sis and I loved New Wave. Music and attire.  I thought it was cool that women could wear ties and men could wear earrings.

One of my favorite library (yay, books but OMG the card catalog) videos from the mid-1980s is “Head Over Heels” by Tears for Fears.

In the library, check out how the keyboardist flubs the book catch, twice. But they put it in the video. And the guy laughs at and lives with his mistakes.

In her last few months alive, Eva was stoic and kind hearted. During her chemo and radiation treatments, and the hospitalizations for being neutropenic and not being able to breathe well, she embraced her nurses, male and female, black and white.  And thanked them for the good care they gave her in the hospital. But my sister worried about who would speak at her funeral. It’s a complicated situation.

While Eva was alive, for decades we attended Lutheran services focused on expatriates, my parents’ generation of refugees from Communism. (Coming home from church this weekend I ventured a comment to two elderly parishioners that I’m drawn to the Episcopal Church. I mentioned the Nixon guy, John Taylor. And gay marriage.. Not sure how they took my comments.)  I was born in the USA but I primarily know the liturgy in Estonian.

During my sister’s battle with terminal illness sis and I talked about what lay ahead. Eva’s boss, Jeanne Schauble, is pictured in the photo with Eva.  That turned out to be my sister’s last “Declass” Christmas party at Archives II in December 2001.  So sad that we had to send Jeanne a doctor’s note in 2002 that Eva’s outlook was “guarded” because she herself died last year of cancer.  Eva, who so loved Christmas, didn’t make it to the day the next year as she died December 16, 2002.

aj-sis-funeral-2002-jpgEva had so many friends among her colleagues at the National Archives and Records Administration. I can’t picture or name them all – they know why – but can put up a picture of A. J. Daverede of the NARA National Declassification Center speaking at her memorial service.  He is the one who said of Eva in his eulogy that she took pleasure in other peoples’ accomplishments as if they were her own.

Eva worried about how to reconcile her Estonian and American sides. Our pastor, Heino Nurk, was Estonian. However, we knew he spoke good English. But would he understand what she needed in death, Eva wondered? Would he “get” what she was all about? As it turns out, he did.

Our now defrocked pastor visited us at home several times while Eva was undergoing chemo. After one such visit, she told me, “Nurk is a good man. He’ll do well. It’s OK if he does the service after I die.” And so he did. Good man, indeed.  Eva’s dying blessing says he was.

What better way is there to show your worth, than to live up to a brave, dying woman’s trust? All I can say, is thank you, Heino Nurk and all who helped Eva during her last journey.

OK, disclaimer.  Posted that one from home.  Leaving the house in a few.  Whatev.

My grin-and-grip with Howard Baker!

Sen. Howard H. Baker, Jr. (R – TN)

During the Watergate hearings in the summer of 1973, my sister and I worked in the office of Sen. Howard H. Baker (R – TN) for a couple of months.  We had just received our Bachelor’s degrees in history and were looking for full time jobs.  Both of us would go to graduate school within a year or two.  Sen. Baker was the vice chair of the Senate Select Committee on Presidential Campaign Activities.   He is famous for asking, “What did the President know and when did he know it?”

SiscoEva and I started out as unpaid volunteers (Baker’s office was receiving a lot of mail due to the hearings).  After a while, his assistant, Gary Sisco (who later served as Secretary of the Senate), arranged for us to be put on the payroll to receive a bit of compensation.  Gary later served as a reference when I applied for a job at the Nixon White House, saying I was a “bright girl” and a “good worker.”    At this time, I was 22 years old.

My application and a Nixon White House official’s notes about me, including the result of checking references, are in the holdings of the Nixon Presidential Library in Yorba Linda, California.  The disclosable portions of Nixon-era records about me and my sister were released in 2004.  The material is in the WHCF Name files and includes some of our letters of support to Nixon.

Maarja at Baker’s office listening to Haldeman testimony

We saw the Senator occasionally; he knew us well enough to say hello and to chat briefly as he passed by.  He came across as genial and pleasant.  I saw Fred Thompson, Minority Counsel for the Watergate committee, from time to time, too.  I only attended one hearing, choosing to go to one where there would be fewer spectators.  (I think the witness was Sally Harmony, Gordon Liddy’s secretary).   We just were too busy as the office received a lot of mail.   The staff turned on a tv when the major witnesses, such as H. R. Haldeman, testified.  The television sat atop part of the equipment for an IBM-MTST, a very early word processor.

By September 1973, I had found a civil service job at the Bureau of the Customs where I worked from 1973 to 1976.  Eva soon would go to work in the Financial Aid Office at The George Washington University.  It was a few years before we both ended up at the National Archives. I joined the National Archives’ staff in 1976, Eva in 1983.   (She became a team leader and supervisory archivist in the National Archives records declassification division.)

I spent my entire career at the National Archives — 1976 to 1990 — working for the Office of Presidential Libraries in its Nixon Presidential Materials Project.  Of my 14 year career there, I spent ten years working on the Nixon tapes and became an expert on Watergate.  As disclosure review team leader, I was one of two people with delegated authority to approve disclosure and restrictions decisions on the 3,700 hours of Nixon tapes.

Toward the end of our tenure on Capitol Hill, I brought in my camera one day in late summer of 1973.   Doris, Senator Baker’s secretary, had arranged a spot on his schedule for him to have his picture take with us.

My notes from the brief meeting show what happened–the flash on my camera failed.  Look for Sen. Baker’s comment about me ending up the Senate Watergate report when I said something dramatic!  We were just kidding around–we all knew the hearings dealt with serious matters.  And of course, going through the hearings was difficult for many of the witnesses.

There’s some banter about cameras.  The Senator was known as a good photographer and many of his photos hung on the office wall. You see some in the photo of Eva earlier that summer.  I’ve slightly sanitized the notes, which is why there are three segments.

The official photographer ended up taking a photo of us the next morning, below.  Yes, I’m wearing the same peach dress I’m pictured in four years later, as a National Archives’ employee, at the Old Executive Office Building on my expanded About page (NARA and I ).  And yes, I am wearing my newly awarded Phi Beta Kappa key along with a cross.  I actually wore the key and cross combo for many years (nowadays only the cross), sometimes on display, sometimes not.  Given the way I look, when I was younger, I figured I needed all the help I could get in having people take me seriously when I first met them, LOL.   Not a lot of gravitas in the way I look and talk even now.

Wearing the key didn’t offer that much protection with guys who said lame things (such as the male NARA employee who told me early in my career that the only reason I was hired was because I was a blonde)!  Fortunately, that didn’t happen too often, although often enough for my friend, the Nixon Project’s audio-visual supervisor, to tell me, “I never realized what dumb things guys can say to women until I started walking around the building with you.”  He and I often took a brief coffee break together.  (No eating or drinking in the stacks, of course.)  We’re pictured together in the photo above at Archives II around 2000, when I came out to visit my friends and my sister.  My friend retired around that time.

Sen. Baker, Maarja Krusten, Eva Krusten, 8/8/73

“That’s a Crucifixion”

or view it at the link at YouTube

or view it here at YouTube

or view it here at YouTube

American Values

My parents both fled totalitarian Communism, making their way to the United States as refugees. I’ve always been keenly aware of the fact that instead of growing up in freedom (I was born in the U.S.), I could have been stuck behind the Iron Curtain.  The photo at left dates to April 1955–spring in Washington, much like today.  I have no idea which is me and which is my twin sister.

As I am, Dad, who had been a journalist in his native land, was a U.S. civil servant. He worked as a radio script writer for the Voice of America (VOA). His job enabled him to reach the oppressed and help them learn about our democratic values. Freedom of speech. Fair play. The balancing of rights and responsibilities. Opportunities to excel. Liberation from group think. The ability to act with integrity and probity. And above all, acquiring knowledge about and having the ability to study how our leaders carry out their duties.  Aspirational values, of course.  I know that not everyone upholds them.

I had different duties as an archivist at the National Archives and Records Administration (NARA) than my Dad did at VOA.  But I’ve always kept the values that infused his work in mind. Without them, we might as well be “Back in the USSR,” with submission to authoritarian power an element of survival and fear of trumped up charges, denunciation and intimidation part of our daily lives.  

My job required me to screen Richard Nixon’s tapes and files to see what could be disclosed to the public.  Unfortunately, as former Nixon Foundation director John H. Taylor courageously points out in a powerful essay, “Hissing and Moaning,” some of Nixon’s associates have used smear tactics against NARA’s employees.   My training as an historian leads me to try to look at issues in terms of cause and effect.  Too often, it has appeared to me in reading publicly available material as if efforts at understanding were greater on our side than on Nixon’s.  I don’t know why.  As I testified in the Nixon tapes lawsuit (Kutler v. Wilson), I voted for Nixon and even while working with his tapes retained some sympathy for him.  An intelligent man of vision, he could have been a history professor, as David Gergen once noted, but ended up having to resign from office.  

I actually understand why Nixon fought us on archival disclosures although I won’t conceal that it hurt to be on the receiving end of some of the fire my colleagues and I took from outside government.  And shockingly from some areas inside, for reasons I don’t fully understand.   I do understand to some extent why Nixon may have tried to trade some of his reputation for that of my archival cohort.  What I find hard to understand are some of the tactical choices lawyers made over the years. 

I greatly appreciate John Taylor’s support for the archival and curatorial mission of the NARA administered Nixon Presidential Library.  I hope no one comes after him for it (stay safe, Father John.)  There are areas involving Nixon that John knows better than I and I’ll let him address those, as he sees them, as he has at his blog and in comments at mine.  What I can talk about best here is the archival ethos in civil service. 

Taylor is right that I decided to start blogging after seeing a blogger associated with the private Nixon foundation ask if there was an Alger Hiss library at which Tim Naftali, the federal director of the Nixon presidential library, shouldn’t be working, instead.  (Given my family background, I really winced at the Hiss reference.)  I had, after all, been the target of mud slinging myself, along with my NARA boss, Frederick J. Graboske.  To his credit, Taylor not only has apologized for what he once said about me, he now courageously is calling out what he describes as “the sheer injustice of the smear” against Tim.

“Naftali is an empiricist and a civil libertarian who loves his country and would despise a traitor like Hiss. Author of a respectful biography of George H.W. Bush, Naftali presents, as Nixon usually did, as a non-ideological moderate and foreign policy realist. He and Nixon would probably have found relatively little to disagree about in either domestic or international affairs.”

Taylor knows whereof he speaks. He certainly knew Nixon well, as a 1996 Los Angeles Times profile showed:

“In his biography, Nixon: A Life, Jonathan Aitken says Taylor and Nixon worked so well together that ‘it became the best relationship he had enjoyed with an aide since his White House days with Henry Kissinger.’

Nixon, Aitken writes, ‘used Taylor as a daily intellectual sparring partner on whom to test his ideas about the morning’s news stories, the latest political situation or the overnight developments in foreign policy.’

Says [Hugh] Hewitt: ‘I think probably with the exception of President Nixon’s family, there is no individual walking around on Earth who knew Richard Nixon better than John Taylor. That’s because he spent 10 years with him at the end of his life in close and constant companionship.’”

John has shared at his blog and also mentioned in comments at mine that his wife, Kathy O’Connor, Nixon’s last chief of staff, was holding Nixon’s hand when he died.

John has proven remarkably open to learning.  It is to his credit that Taylor now notes that “The case is often made that a presidential library director should like or love the president in question. I’d say it’s the job of the president’s family and friends to care about him. It’s the federal director’s job to care about history.”   Most importantly, as someone who was very close to Nixon, he understands that defensiveness and name-calling won’t help his former boss’s reputation. He writes, “Nixon legacy building will be generational, arc-of-history stuff, the word of many decades, as he himself understood. It will grow out of careful study of his times, policies, and temperament by scholars.”  Hear hear.

I would add to those wise words that it also will require understanding the unique, sometimes insular, often pressure cooker work environment in the White House. That a president is surrounded largely by at-will employees can create enormous problems. As Fred Malek noted in an interview with Bob Woodward in 1988, “When you are in the White House you get lots of directives that you don’t agree with.” Woodward then was researching materials about Nixonian Jew-counting at the Bureau of Labor Statistics (BLS) which we only partially had been able to release.   No tape segments about this were available yet; such disclosures would not come until after Nixon died in 1994.  Of course, we had completed review of all of the tapes by 1988, including identification of “abuse of governmental power” portions.

 Charles Colson spoke candidly about the problem of responding to orders with whch he disagreed when Tim Naftali interviewed him recently.  However, Malek was less forthcoming with Tim than he was in 1988 with Woodward.  In discussing Nixon’s directive that he identify Jews at BLS, he fell back on a “no harm, no foul” response.

Every job is different.  You have to apply contextual sophistication to understand what people feel they can and cannot do.  Sometimes you can push back more than at other times.  That applies to career civil servants as well as to White House aides.  I do know from my own experiences in 38 years of federal service that there are times when you have to act as a steward for the office you represent. You are, after all, only holding it temporarily.  So it’s not just about you.  Others will follow and you need to keep them in mind.   Protect them, if need be.  Tim Naftali understands this.  John Taylor, although he has not worked in civil service, seemingly has come to understand that, as well.

Much depends on who is in charge and how badly those in power want something. Robert Bolt captured what can be a very tricky dynamic in A Man for All Seasons, his play about Sir Thomas More.  The King wanted something.  Badly.  His chancellor, More, stood in the way.

“King: How is it that you cannot see? Everyone else does.

More: Then why does your Grace need my poor support?

King: Because you’re honest and what is more to the purpose, you’re known to be honest. There are those like Norfolk who follow me because I wear the crown, those like Master Cromwell who follow me because they are jackals with sharp teeth and I’m their tiger, there’s a mass that follows me because it follows anything that moves. And then there’s you.”

There are times when we civil servants face situations where our stewardship obligations conflict with personal loyalty to an individual with whom we work. We have to make tough choices.  As the Code of Ethics for federal employees stated during the Eisenhower administration, when Richard Nixon served as Vice President,

“Any person in Government service should:
 
1. Put loyalty to the highest moral principals and to country above loyalty to Government persons, party, or department.
2. Uphold the Constitution, laws, and legal regulations of the United States and of all governments therein and never be a party to their evasion.”
 
It concludes with the reminder, “Uphold these principles, ever conscious that public office is a public trust.”    Do people still believe that or does it sound quaint nowadays?  I came into federal service still remembering John F. Kennedy’s “Ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country” Inaugural speech.  (How would Fox News have covered that, I wonder?)  I was in elementary school when Kennedy took office but already was an avid follower of current events.  I still have scrapbooks filled with clippings about the early days of the space program.
 
Taylor once said he used to defend Nixon as one might one’s Dad in the schoolyard.  But he’s come to understand that opening Nixon’s records and being candid about the good and the bad, both, serves him better.  I agree although I think that is an extraordinarily hard sell in what feels to me like an age where no one really believes in personal responsibility any longer.  Still, as Tim Naftali has pointed out, there’s no better way to study Richard Nixon then to listen to his tapes.  I did so for ten years.   I came to understand him and the men around him.  
 
I understand why in political positions, personal loyalty can loom disproportionately large.  This is especially the case in the White House, where no matter what you do, your efforts often are met outside with demagoguery, cynical opposition and politically motivated attacks. 
  
After nearly four decades working in Washington, I hold a pay-banded rank right below that of members of the Senior Executive Service.  I’m career, not a political appointee.  I’ve never worked in the White House, although I almost did during the Nixon administration.  (As you can see, I even made it through an interview in 1973).  But I do understand what it is like to be stereotyped and misunderstood.    You yearn for understanding.  You thirst for respect.   You salute those who reach out to you and try to forgive those who turn their backs. 
 
Over the years, I’ve had several researchers, one of whom had served in a senior position in the White House in recent decades, contact me to talk about how best to research publicly available records that show how the Nixon White House operated.  Several have been particularly interested in studying H. R. Haldeman.  Evidently, they’ve picked up on my knowledge of the Nixon White House and my interest in management science. 
  
While I regret that some of Nixon’s associates have resorted to mud slinging, I do  understand their yearning to be respected.  I feel it myself, after all.  I’m empathetic by nature.  That’s how I roll.  I know, empathy seems to be a pejorative concept among Republican talk radio pundits nowadays, as does anything pointing to attempts to understand “the other.” Well, I’m an Independent now, have been since 1989.  Plus I’m very self actualized.   Empathy is one reason why I reached out and sent a condolence note to Jo Haldeman, widow of Nixon chief of staff H. R. (Bob) Haldeman, in 1993.  She sent back a nice reply in 1994.  I can only share the part that refers to me.   I’ve cut out the rest, which refers to other issues.
 
 
Reputations matter.  I know that.  Nixon’s lawyer once called members of my archival cohort “incompetent.”  In public.  In print.  Others sneered at us Nixon tapes archivists in 1992, as well.  I had hoped that when the Watergate exhibit opened in California last week that the U.S. Archivist would give a tip of the hat to all of us who had worked on processing “abuse of governmental power” information, starting in 1977.  Yes, even those of us who first uncovered information about Fred Malek’s Jew counting.  And about Nixon’s attempts to use the Secret Service to spy on Teddy Kennedy.  High risk work, back then, definitely.   Odd how no one who worked at NARA’s Pickett Street location in Alexandria during the 1980s on textual as well as tapes processing was mentioned at the exhibit opening last week.
 
An earlier U.S. Archivist, John W. Carlin, thanked everyone who ever had worked with the Nixon tapes when some segments were opened during his tenure.  That this did not seem possible to do now tells me a great deal about the challenging situation in which the head of the National Archives must find himself.  Needless to say, I wish him well!
 
[Note September 14, 2012:  Update.  A month after this post went up in April 2011, the Archivist of the United States, David S. Ferriero, reached out to me and we established friendly relations in his professional circle.  I learned then that Ferriero had been reading  my blog from the time I launcvhed it.  I first met him on June 29, 2011 and had the pleasure of introducing my former boss at NARA, the Nixon tapes unit supervisor, to David in December 2011.  I’ve been enjoying a joyous reconnection with NARA since May 2011.]
 
John Taylor was kind enough to refer in a recent blog essay to the award winning Fred Graboske.   (Sitting here laughing at how that would have sounded to the Maarja of 1996. And yes, very thankful for the unexpected blessing.)  Several of us among what Taylor now calls the “lost generation” once received awards for our work.  I smiled to myself when I saw this photo from 1989, the last full year I worked at the National Archives with Nixon’s tapes and files.   Notice the pearl earrings?  I had bought them with award money I received from the Office of Presidential Libraries for outstanding performance.   But there’s more to the story.
 
I received several cash awards over the years.  With one award, I bought myself a pearl ring.  Unfortunately, the pearl fell out of the setting while I was at work.  It happened when I was working with some manuscript (Hollinger) boxes while the Nixon Project still was housed in Alexandria, Virginia.  Maybe someday a researcher will open one of those gray boxes at the Nixon Presidential Library in Yorba Linda, California, and find it.  An actual pearl to go along with the valuable nuggets of information in the expert care of Tim Naftali and his staff.   I salute them and their champion, John Taylor.

John Taylor, Tim Naftali, Kathy O’Connor (Taylor photo)

As to my generation of archivists, as do Nixon’s associates, perhaps I’ll have to take the long view.  Proof that we members of the “lost generation” indeed were valued still lies in the National Archives, of course, and not just in the form of the pearl.  No, I’m not talking about the records of the awards and commendations we received but which the G. H. W. Bush Department of Justice ignored when Nixon’s lawyers criticized us in 1992.  Or even the Nixon tapes, which FOIA released documents from 1999, and the actual tapes releases, show Karl Weissenbach’s team handled much as Graboske’s had.   Or letters I’ve received from people such as the late Stephen Ambrose.

Eva, Christmas 2000 (she died 12/16/02)

No, I’m thinking of people.  I cherish the many friends and former colleagues I left behind when I took a new job in 1990.  Some have retired but many still remain, doing valuable work and upholding the best in American values as public servants.  There are many ways to show loyalty to one’s associates.  As President Barack Obama wisely said, “how we treat each other is entirely up to us.”  I’m so glad I have the example of my late sister, Eva, to show me the way.  (She was a supervisory archivist and a team leader in NARA’s records declassification division, now a part of the National Declassification Center.)   I can hear her voice still, in a recollection from the early 1990s:  “Maarja!  What are you doing?  Are you in Nixonland, again?”  ‘Fraid so, sis.  ‘Fraid so!