[Congressional Record Volume 140, Number 67 (Wednesday, May 25, 1994)]
[Senate]
[Page S]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Printing Office [www.gpo.gov]


[Congressional Record: May 25, 1994]
From the Congressional Record Online via GPO Access [wais.access.gpo.gov]

 
                          A CARING INDIVIDUAL

  Mr. DOLE. Mr. President, I continue to hear from hundreds of 
Americans who want to express their respect and admiration of former 
President Richard Nixon.
  One of the most eloquent memories of President Nixon was one that was 
printed in the Washington Post on May 1. It was written by Harold Bell, 
who is a sports talk show host and president of ``Kids in Trouble'' 
here in Washington, DC.
  Mr. Bell paints a memorable picture of a caring individual, and I ask 
unanimous consent that his article be printed in the Congressional 
Record.
  There being no objection, the article was ordered to be printed in 
the Record, as follows:

                   He Wasn't a Great Golfer but * * *

       I met Richard Nixon in 1957 at the Burning Tree Golf Course 
     in Bethesda. Burning Tree was a whites-only, all-male, 
     private golf club for the movers and shakers of world 
     politics. Mr. Nixon, at the time was vice president, and I 
     was a student-athlete attending Spingarn High School in 
     Northeast Washington.
       I carried golf clubs on the weekend to help my mother make 
     ends meet for my brothers and me. One Saturday evening after 
     caddying one round and finishing early, I decided to double 
     or at least increase my earnings of the day. I joined a group 
     of older guys, which included Petey Green (who went on to 
     become a legendary radio and TV personality in Washington), 
     in a game of cards in the caddy shack Big mistake. I was 
     broke within an hour.
       Now I had to figure out how I was going to explain to my 
     mother that I had been at the golf course all day (I would 
     usually leave the house at 7 a.m. and return around 7 p.m) an 
     had nothing to show for it. I borrowed two dollars from Petey 
     Green for the bus fare and hamburgers at Little Tavern. I 
     headed for the parking lot to hitch a ride to Westmoreland 
     Circle to catch the bus home to my housing project, Parkside, 
     in Northeast. As I emerged from the woods with my head 
     hanging down. I heard the voice of club pro Max Elbin calling 
     me. Mr. Elbin wanted me to take two bags out for another 
     round. Before we could finish the sentence, I had the bag on 
     my shoulder, and I was standing on the first tee waiting for 
     my two saviors. I would never forget how these men saved me 
     from having to explain to my mother how irresponsible I had 
     been that day.
       I had no idea who these men would be, but at this point I 
     didn't care. Ten minutes later, out of the club house walks 
     Vice President Nixon and Attorney General William Rogers. 
     They both greeted me with a smile and handshakes. Mr. Nixon 
     asked if I was ready for an adventure around the Burning Tree 
     Golf Course, and I smiled and said ``Yes, sir.'' I had not 
     fully understood what he meant when he said ``adventure,'' 
     but after three holes. I understood the remark. Mr. Nixon's 
     golf balls spent more time in the trees than most squirrels. 
     On the other hand, Mr. Rogers was a pretty decent golfer.
       I thought that since it was so late in the evening, along 
     with the bad golf of Mr. Nixon, they would only play nine 
     holes, but this would turn out to be an 18-hole adventure. As 
     we approached the 18th hole, I noticed the lights were on in 
     the clubhouse, and my homeboys had probably left for the long 
     ride back to the projects. This was my first time at the golf 
     course this late without a ride.
       It was now after 7 p.m. and it was the dark of night. There 
     were few cars in the members' parking lot. The few members 
     who remained were more than likely involved in a high-stakes 
     gin rummy game. The likelihood of my getting a ride to town 
     before 10 p.m. did not look good. I would probably end up 
     catching a ride with the help (cooks or locker-room men).
       The two gentlemen who had rescued me from going home broke 
     three hours earlier came to my rescue again. The vice 
     president and the attorney general came bouncing out of the 
     clubhouse, and before I could say, ``Good night,'' the vice 
     president had offered me a ride into town. It had never 
     crossed my mind to ask for a ride, even though members 
     routinely gave caddies rides into town to catch the bus.
       The ``adventure'' became many more adventures and the 
     development of a lasting friendship with then-Vice President 
     Nixon. I have been amazed over the years as I read or heard 
     people say how aloof, withdrawn and noncaring this great man 
     was.
       During the evening of golf and the ride to the bus, Mr. 
     Nixon wanted to know where I lived, how many brothers and 
     sisters I had, what school I attended, what sports I played 
     and what kind of student I was. I was caught completely off 
     guard: Here was the vice president of the United States 
     taking an interest in a poor little black kid from a housing 
     project in Northeast Washington.
       The one thing that I wanted to brag about was how great an 
     athlete I was. I bragged about how I played three sports and 
     was a starter in all three. The vice president turned from 
     the front seat and looked at me in the eye and said, ``That's 
     great, but how are your grades?'' And I saw Attorney General 
     Rogers peering in the rearview mirror waiting for my 
     response. All I could say was that my grades were ``okay.'' 
     Mr. Nixon's response was, ``Harold, you have got to do 
     better.''
       Before letting me out at the bus stop, the vice president 
     let me know that they were weekend warriors and late 
     Saturdays were the best time for them. Two weeks later, I had 
     their bags again.
       It was more than 10 years later that I observed Mr. Nixon 
     touring the riot-scarred corridor in the Shaw neighborhood of 
     Northwest Washington, but on this occasion he was being 
     called Mr. President. I was assigned to the Shaw community as 
     a roving leader for the department of recreation, working 
     with troubled youth. Many black residents in the community 
     were shocked to see him in the ``hood'' and questioned his 
     motives. But I knew that he was concerned about his black 
     neighbors north of the White House.
       Two weeks later there was a letter from President Nixon. 
     After that Mr. Nixon extended an invitation to me and my 
     wife, Hattie, to join him and then-Secretary of State William 
     Rogers at the white House to break bread and talk about the 
     early years at Burning Tree Golf Course.
       In 1969 I received a presidential appointment to become the 
     first civilian to head a Domestic Actions Program on a 
     military facility in the United States. I don't even remember 
     Mr. Nixon ever asking me if I was a Republican or a Democrat 
     or making me feel uncomfortable because of my color or the 
     fact I was his caddy.

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