Three election cycles in a row teased and denied him the highest office. What else was a Rockefeller supposed to do at that point, other than shape the world? The increasing distance from the presidency had seemed like a cosmic cruelty to him: to be given all the chance in the world to achieve greatness and have it denied, over and over. Washington seemed to wish him nothing but ill will. He was split between standing by President Ford or simply retiring. He was becoming another of the Vice Presidents, all of whom in the previous three decades he knew, none happy with the office.
Yet Gerald Ford was dead. Rockefeller was surrounded by a harried swarm of staff, Ron Nessen, Betty Ford, a photographer, a news camera and a gaggle of stunned Congressmen. Chief Justice Warren Burger was holding the Bible to swear him in. He placed his hand on it.
"I, Nelson Aldrich Rockefeller, do solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute the Office of President of the United States, and will to the best of my Ability, preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States."
How many endless times did he practice his inauguration in his head, in the mirror? He recalled how sixteen years ago this seemed so inevitable. So triumphant. Being elected Governor of New York. The female admirers. The crowds to rival Jack Kennedy. Building things to solve problems. The dream in 1959 was so glamorous.
He turned to Betty Ford. Tod had the same face when it was clear Michael was never coming home. He never talked about that. It had been a while since he had last searched for something to say.
"I'm sorry, Betty. He was a good man. He trusted me. I'll honor his trust. Whatever it takes."
He wasn't satisfied with what he said, but she knowingly nodded, still shaken, quietly fighting for her composure. It was all that could be said, for that moment.
Yet Gerald Ford was dead. Rockefeller was surrounded by a harried swarm of staff, Ron Nessen, Betty Ford, a photographer, a news camera and a gaggle of stunned Congressmen. Chief Justice Warren Burger was holding the Bible to swear him in. He placed his hand on it.
"I, Nelson Aldrich Rockefeller, do solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute the Office of President of the United States, and will to the best of my Ability, preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States."
How many endless times did he practice his inauguration in his head, in the mirror? He recalled how sixteen years ago this seemed so inevitable. So triumphant. Being elected Governor of New York. The female admirers. The crowds to rival Jack Kennedy. Building things to solve problems. The dream in 1959 was so glamorous.
He turned to Betty Ford. Tod had the same face when it was clear Michael was never coming home. He never talked about that. It had been a while since he had last searched for something to say.
"I'm sorry, Betty. He was a good man. He trusted me. I'll honor his trust. Whatever it takes."
He wasn't satisfied with what he said, but she knowingly nodded, still shaken, quietly fighting for her composure. It was all that could be said, for that moment.