Trick-or-Treat, Tricky Dick

We all have our own fond memories of Halloweens past. Many of us can recall our most creative or clever costumes. The candy-minded among us can remember which houses dispensed the best treats.

But my Halloween memories go beyond candy and costumes. Of course I remember my various Halloween outfits, from pirate to plastic surgeon, and I can still tell you which house on Arrowhead Lane gives out the extra-large Nestle Crunch bars.

But when I think of Halloween, my thoughts also turn to our late great president, Richard Milhous Nixon. For three straight years, from when I was eight until I was eleven, my trick-or-treating itinerary had Nixon's rambling ranch home as its high point. For all the children of Saddle River, New Jersey, the Nixon residence was a Halloween must-see.

The house was surrounded by trees, dense shrubbery and a high wall. The driveway was normally blocked by a heavy gate. But on Halloween, the gate was swung wide open, offering trick-or-treaters (and their curious parents) an invitation to enter.

Next to the gate was a small wooden guardhouse. I was told that this was where Nixon's Secret Service agents were stationed. When I went trick-or-treating at the Nixons, I never saw anyone inside the guardhouse. No Secret Service agents frisked me for weapons concealed in my costume.

Nixon, while not especially healthy, could certainly withstand an assassination attempt made with a plastic gun.

Each Halloween, Richard and Pat Nixon would stand on their broad doorstep, greeting their guests with smiles and handshakes. They were flanked on both sides by enormous wicker baskets overflowing with candy and other treats.

There was an elaborate ritual to trick-or-treating at Tricky Dick's. You would walk up the curving driveway to the doorstep.

Then you would approach Nixon and shake his hand. (This was, by the way, the only Halloween stop where you shook someone's hand to get candy.)

If you weren't too nervous, you might be able to say something like, "Hello, Mr. President." If you were as nervous as I was on my first trip, you would mumble something incoherent. Nixon would smile at both responses. Perhaps he was kind; perhaps he was deaf.

After shaking his hand, you would proceed to the next station: the baskets and their diverse treats. While the candies were small, you could take as many as you wanted. No Secret Service agents monitored the flow of candy into your bag.

Several hyperactive small children, without costumes, would swarm around the Nixons. They ran around the driveway and consumed large amounts of sugar. They appeared to be the Nixon grandchildren, and they had important roles to play in the Halloween drama. When a candy basket was empty, they would run inside the house and scream, "More candy! More candy!"

Looking back, I feel pity for poor Mr. Nixon. There he was, standing on his doorstep for hours on end, shaking hand after hand in the October chill. Worst of all, he had to endure those shouting, hyperactive kids. I bet they made Nixon nostalgic for Kissinger.

The Nixon treats did not stop at candy. The Nixons always had what could be described as a supplementary treat to accompany the standard Halloween fare. These treats invariably capitalized on the Nixon fame (or infamy, as the case might be).

One year the Nixons gave away small orange cards with drawings of witches and black cats on them. At the top of the card was printed, "The Nixon Family wishes you a Happy Halloween." Below the message was what made the card so valuable: the signature of Richard Milhous Nixon. These cards made excellent refrigerator decorations.

Another year, Nixon gave away elegant brass pens in gift boxes. Each pen had Nixon's signature engraved on the barrel. They were beautiful pens. But Tricky Dick was not above a small act of deception.

The pens did not write.

The year I received my non-functional pen, a big black limousine was parked near the gate to the Nixon compound. Out of curiosity, I reached out and touched the car's shiny attractive surface.

As soon as my hand touched the cool metal, I drew back. I realized, with fear and horror, what I had done. Without anyone's permission, I had left the blemish of my finger-print on the car of a great and powerful man. I stood next to the car for half a minute frozen, waiting for the Secret Service agents to apprehend me.

To my relief, they never came. Nevertheless, I felt guilty for my action for several days. I had destroyed the ritual purity of the president's car with my dirty little hand. I hope Nixon forgave me.

Several years after I retired my plastic pumpkin candy carrier, Nixon moved away. He left Saddle River and took up residence in a townhouse in nearby Park Ridge. The townhouse was much easier to maintain than the sprawling Nixon estate. Since his departure, Saddle River and its trick-or-treating scene have never been the same.

This Halloween, take some time to reflect on Nixon and the many years he spent serving our nation. Like all of us, the great man had his faults and his difficulties. He gave out pens that did not work. And there was that business about Watergate.

But let us remember Nixon for the good he did for our country. Today I will remember Nixon for his sincere smile and his warm handshake.

And, last but not least, I'll remember him for those two big baskets of candy.

David B. Lat '96 will dress up tonight as a liberal.