“Nixon, having become President of the United States, would suddenly wonder what had become of me. He would almost certainly never have become President, of course, if he had not become a national figure as the discoverer and hounder of the mendacious Leland Clewes. His emissaries would find me, as I say, helping my wife with her decorating business, which she ran out of our little brick bungalow in Chevy Chase, Maryland. Through them, he would offer me a job. How did I feel about it? Proud and ...useful. Richard. M. Nixon wasn’t merely Richard M. Nixon, after all. He was also the President of the United States of America, a nation I ached to serve again. Should I have refused—on the grounds that America wasn’t really my kind of America just then? Should I have persisted, as a point of honor, in being to all practical purposes a basket case in Chevy Chase instead? No. And now Clyde Carter, the prison guard I had been waiting for so long on my cot, came to get me at last. Emil Larkin had by then given up on me and limped away.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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