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I like people who are really in the moment, and it sounds to me like you were right there, drinking it in. I'm sure Sorenson found your reaction quite wonderful.
You met history. Not many people get to do that, and the really great ones, like from the brief time of JFK, are overwhelming.
I got thrown into that world in the late seventies, when, as an almost-brand-new lawyer, I joined a DC law firm, and went to work for the man who was the general counsel of an airline. I was his assistant - as in, assistant general counsel. Charles Springs Murphy helped write the Airline Deregulation Act. He didn't like it - neither did I - but we worked on it (and wrote in a million dollar subsidy for our client - back then a million dollars was a lot of money), and today, well, the results aren't pretty.
Charlie liked to freak me out. One day, he asked me to go with him to deliver a book to someone. In person. He was an old man, a North Carolinian by birth, Duke undergrad and law school, former Chairman of the Civil Aeronautics Board, an assistant secretary of agriculture under LBJ.
So, it being a nice Spring day, Charlie and I wandered out of our office at 18th and K, NW, and we started walking south. I asked him where we were going, and he said, "You'll know when we get there."
At the entrance to the White House, we gave our names, showed our drivers' licenses, told our places of birth, and our birthdates.
We walked up the driveway to the West Wing. (I'd been to the White House before, during the Nixon years, but that's a whole other story.)
Inside, Charlie was greeted effusively by Ham Jordan, who he kissed my hand when Charlie introduced me.
We were escorted into the Oval Office, where President Carter was waiting for us. He beamed when we walked in, and after Jordan saw that we were all right, he departed.
We all sat down, and Charlie explained to President Carter - who, strangely, was bigger than he appeared on TV - what the book was (I no longer remember) and why he wanted the President to read it. They talked some, while I looked around. I had never been in the Oval Office before. It's really gorgeous, and the light is amazing.
President Carter then asked me some questions, where I was from, where I went to school, how I liked working for "a living legend," and he put it.
Then he did the sweetest thing.
He asked me if I'd like to sit at his desk.
There were no papers on his desk. Photos of Rosalynn and his kids, but no papers. I guess they clean off the desk when visitors arrive.
So, there I was, sitting in the President's chair, at the desk of the President of the United States.
I said I liked it and would take it. Carter laughed, Charlie smiled, and then - because this was unusual back then - President Carter said the switchboard could connect me to any phone in the world. Would I like to call someone?
Well, YEAH!!!
I picked up the phone, and, as President Carter instructed me, gave the operator my mother and father's phone number.
No pressing buttons, just pick it up. It was a black phone, by the way. No red phone anywhere. I looked.
My Mom answered, and I said, "Hey, Mom, guess where I am?"
She said, "Where, honey?"
I said, "I'm sitting at President Carter's desk. I'm in the Oval Office. Remember? Remember when we saw it when Gus brought us here? But we couldn't go in. Remember?"
And my mother said, "Tangerine, that's not funny."
I said, "No, Mom, really. That's where I am."
President Carter was laughing, and he reached for the phone, got on, and waited for my mother to stop talking while I died a thousand embarrassed deaths.
Then, there being no mistaking that soft Georgia drawl, he assured my mother than her daughter really was in his office.
They chatted a bit, and then he handed the phone back to me. "See, Mom, I told you," I said, still blushing.
She said, "He sounds nice. I should have voted for him."
I wondered if Nixon's taping set-up was still running. I could have died all over again.
President Carter has, ever since, had the most special place in my heart.
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