Marion Smoak was the head of protocol for the White House, or so the printed message delivered to my home by one of the compound Lincolns indicated. The time of the event, to be held at the San Clemente Inn, located not more than a mile from the Nixon residence...
I finished the shift with Herberich and Gularte. Nobody got shot, and they sort of bonded in that single time together. Not with me, but with each other. I understood, in the back seat, that I wasn’t really bondable material. I had my wife and daughter and that was...
The front hubs on the Bronco had obviously never been turned before. It took all the strength I had in my wrists to slowly move the hubs a hundred and eighty degrees. Finally, they were turned. I got back in the Bronco, backed up, and faced the six-foot-high berm of...