At the time I was a journalism major at Baker University in Baldwin City, KS. Armed with only a 35mm Pentax camera, one lens and a few rolls of Tri-X film I set out for Abilene early in the morning on the not really knowing what to expect, but hoping to capture some images of the activity in this little town of about 8,000 residents which was about to be swarmed by a crowd of nearly 100,000.
When I arrived I found the U. S. Army had taken control of the town and had set up a command center in the local National Guard armory. Somehow I found my way to a desk where an officer was handing out passes to members of the press. With no documentation to back up my assertions that I was there to represent the Baker Wildcat, my university’s student newspaper, and the Baldwin Ledger, my hometown daily, I managed to persuade him to give me one of the coveted passes. I was informed the Army would deliver me along with other members of the media to the appropriate press stands when the time arrived.
As the casket bearing President Eisenhower arrived at the chapel which is his final resting place I had a prime vantage point where I could clearly view and photograph the activities of various family members and dignitaries arriving and departing. The service itself was private, was in the chapel and the press was not allowed in.
Following the departure those who had been in the chapel for the ceremony I started back, along with other members of the press, to the bus that had brought me . I was ready to get back to my car and home to begin processing film, or so I thought. Before making it back to the bus I saw the presidential limousine pause in the midst of the throngs that lined nearby streets. President Nixon exited the car and walked into the crowd where he was shaking hands and signing autographs. Naturally the mass of humanity, including most of the press, surged toward him to get a closer look.
I wanted to get close to him too, but I quickly saw how futile it would be to run toward him. I turned and saw, aside from a few men in trench coats and dark glasses, there was no one near the president’s car. I made my way to it and firmly planted myself close to the door I had seen President Nixon come out of. My strategy worked.
As the president started back toward the limo, the crowd followed. When he was close they rushed in near where I was, and I was shoved until my butt was against the rear fender. I began taking pictures, one after another as quickly as I could with a manual camera. As President Nixon was about to enter the now open door next to where I was standing, I had a clear view and was close enough I could have touched him. I continued to shoot film even as I felt the hands of two Secret Service agents slide under my armpits and begin dragging me away.
As the president disappeared inside his car the agents released me in the street, and I headed back to the bus that was waiting to return me to the armory. Once there I made my way back to my, car and began the journey home where I worked into the night processing and printing the images I had captured that day, including the close up of President Nixon posted above.
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Images and text Copyright 2011 Dave Michael. No portion of this article may be reproduced without permission of the author.
