He's the most famous graduate of Duke University.
Richard Milhouse Nixon, Law '37.
Congressman. Senator. President. Criminal.
Nixon, for nearly half of the "American Century," was at the forefront of national affairs, overlooking the transformation from post-war America to modernity. His 1994 death marked the beginning of a post-modern America, one in which Nixon's policies oddly seem irrelevant, when terror lies not in the Soviet Union or in China, but in the bombs or germs of a fanatic. He continued to haunt American politics after his resignation in 1974 and his actions continued to impact the political landscape after his death.
He haunted the University throughout many of the decades following his time in Durham, from the 1950s to the 1990s. Twenty years ago this semester, the University was engaged in fierce debate, contemplating the placement of the Nixon presidential library at Duke, inexorably linking the two names forever, in one of the most defining debates within Duke's walls.
Beginnings
As the Duke Conservative Union's website reports--the group has a Richard M. Nixon Council--Nixon looked back fondly on his years at Duke.
"I always remember that whatever I have done in the past, or may do in the future, Duke University is responsible in one way or another," Nixon said in a speech in August 1960.
Nixon's years at Duke are well-documented. A graduate of Whittier College on the West Coast, Nixon arrived at the School of Law after graduating first in his class with a $250 annual scholarship. The scholarships became harder to earn after the first year, and Nixon constantly struggled to maintain his high grade point average.
He was reportedly said to have had an "iron butt" for the hours of studying he logged in the library. Money, or scarcity of it, regulated many of the young law student's activities. Classmates reported that he did not spend much time engaged in social activities and that Nixon, while polite and hard-working, never came off as especially gregarious or extroverted.
Nixon maintained the high grades he wished for and finished third in his class. One incident stands out in his career. He, classmate Bill Perdue and roommate Frederick Albrink were perturbed that the dean had failed to post the class rankings on time.
A curious Nixon, along with his friends, slipped into the dean's office to sneak a peek at the grades. During Watergate, critics pointed self-righteously to Nixon's "first break-in."
Nevertheless, Nixon, who was turned down by the Federal Bureau of Investigation and a number of New York law firms, graduated and left Duke to practice law in southern California.
Degree of dishonor
Fast forward 15 years. Nixon, well into his first term as vice president of the United States, was scheduled to speak at Duke's graduation ceremonies in 1954. Nixon's brother, Edward, had studied as an undergraduate at Duke and received his degree the previous year.
Hollis Edens, then-president of the University, had offered the slot to Nixon and the vice president had already accepted. But Edens also presided over two General Faculty meetings that resulted in the snubbing of the future president: Faculty members voted 61 to 42 to table Nixon's nomination for an honorary degree, a traditional award given to the graduation speaker.
According to an article written by University Archivist William King, word of the secret proceedings was leaked to The New York Times as debate intensified among Duke faculty. A second meeting reportedly occurred, and the faculty essentially voted to table the matter again, passing a measure 131 to 67 to "refer and study the question of honorary degrees."
Nixon
Nevertheless, King reported, Nixon turned down a 1961 honorary degree from Duke.
Showdown
The most emphatic statement Duke faculty made, however, came in the fall of 1981, when they railroaded the establishment of the Nixon presidential library at the University.
Terry Sanford, then-president of Duke, initiated the conversation with Nixon. He slowly began to let faculty and other administrators know about the negotiations.
In a confidential letter to Sanford Aug. 15, 1981, Edwin Cady, now an English professor emeritus, wrote against "professors who do not grasp what access to a great documentary center means to a university" and that "for many years, Mr. Nixon has been to some... the Prince of Darkness."
But as more details leaked out from Sanford's behind-the-scenes proposal for the Nixon library, faculty criticism--of the process, not proposed library--reached a critical point.
"Initial passions really did move in very constructive ways. It was one of the faculty's finest hours," says Roy Weintraub, professor of economics and then-chair of the Academic Council.
Weintraub also recalled the 1981 visit of the McNeil-Lehrer News Hour to Duke.
"They were concerned with the usual McNeil-Lehrer nonsense of a balanced presentation," Weintraub says. "They canceled the show, because they could not find anyone who disagreed with the faculty."
One person within the University who did disagree was Alexander MacMahon, then-chair of the Board of the Trustees, who said in public that he did not care what the faculty thought. The Academic Council promptly censured him.
Weintraub said the debate likely had lasting repercussions on how Sanford dealt with the faculty. "He was much more cautious with the faculty from that point on," he says.
As Sanford realized that the Academic Council would play a vital role in any negotiations, debate intensified further as professors set about discussing the benefits and drawbacks to inviting the Nixon library to Duke.
When the faculty took up the issue, the main contention was the amount of space dedicated to memorializing Nixon. Most faculty, already disgusted with his policies, were determined that the library not turn into a shrine.
"I think we wanted to have people focus on the value of the papers versus the value of the reputation and to make sure we did not end up glorifying a flawed presidency by allocating huge amounts of space to a monument," says William Chafe, currently dean of the faculty of arts and sciences.
Indeed, Chafe, who came to Duke in 1971 at the height of U.S. involvement in Vietnam, was one of Nixon's most outspoken critics.
A history professor, Chafe became one of America's foremost scribes on post-World War II America, especially the civil rights movement, and was one of the most popular faculty members. He led rallies throughout his early years at Duke, protesting not only Nixon's domestic foebles but also the bombing of Cambodia and other foreign policies.
In 1981, Chafe was an instrumental player in crafting the argument against bringing the library to Duke, as a member of the Academic Council's subcommittee on library negotiations. An October 1981 report by the subcommittee listed many of the faculty's concerns.
"For every serious
The subcommittee maintained that the papers needed only 40,000 square feet, not the 150,000 square feet Nixon's staff requested. Academic value became an issue as well, with faculty wondering what a more glorified link to Nixon would mean for the school's reputation as it tried to become more nationally known.
"The building of a Nixon library at Duke would inevitably link the two names in concrete, as it were," the document reads. "The impact of [the library] on Duke's reputation and its perception by the public will be substantial and not entirely desirable."
The University of Michigan, where President Gerald Ford studied, not only brought his presidential library to campus, but named its school of public policy after him. Duke's public policy institute--the only such institute not to honor a U.S. president--is named after Sanford.
Chafe said that many scholars would be drawn to Duke, specifically for research at the library.
"Had it come on to the terms they were espousing, it would have come as an enterprise five times larger than the space needed for the papers, and it would have significantly determined the direction of the public policy, political science and history departments," he says.
Over the semester, a consensus developed that the proposal was unacceptable and that a library must be simply that--devoid of any celebration of the only Duke alum to reach the presidency of the United States.
Later that year, Sanford, in a Dec. 12 statement, icily said that "the museum, or more accurately the visual archives, will have to be placed somewhere else. That is one condition that cannot be changed." Sanford said Duke would negotiate further, but Nixon's staff became disinterested, and the library eventually ended up in Yorba Linda, Calif.
"The Nixon people heard this and said, OThanks, but no thanks,' and so it all kind of petered out," Weintraub says.
Legacy
In a letter dated April 29, 1994, President Nan Keohane extended her sympathy to Tricia Nixon Cox and Julie Nixon Eisenhower after the death of their father.
"During his long and remarkable career in public life, President Nixon established an impressive record of leadership, particularly in the field of international relations," she wrote. "Your father's many admirers at Duke note with pride that his seemingly insatiable curiosity was manifested during a distinguished academic career at... the School of Law."
Yet the University's "Nixon policy" has in large part been to avoid connection with the 37th President of the United States at all costs.
The School of Law might be the most welcoming place for Nixon today. There's a scholarship fund in his honor, set up by his classmates in 1973 following a law class reunion at the White House the previous year.
His portrait, once removed by pranksters at the height of Nixon's unpopularity and hidden in the attic, was placed on display at the law school in March 1998. It now resides in the U.S. Capitol building where it remains "on loan" indefinitely, after then-speaker of the house Newt Gingrich originally requested it for his office.
Katherine Bartlett, dean of the law school, denied that Nixon has any legacy at Duke. In fact, most Duke administrators downplay Nixon's links to the University and have done so for the past 50 years.
"I think his legacy is that of someone who was not terribly wealthy and who had an opportunity to advance his career by getting a good education and who made his mark as a public servant," says Chafe.
"Period."
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