Erich Segal - The Class

For a Republican working in Washington, D.C., late July 1974 was hardly a time for honeymoons. Though Cathy moved into George’s townhouse right after the wedding, she barely saw him. And then only very late at night.

For now it became increasingly deaf that because of the Watergate scandal, Nixon was going to have to resign from office.

While Henry Kissinger metaphorically — and sometimes literally — held the tormented President’s hand, George helped Al Haig set the White House in order.

If his wedding had lacked confetti, it was more than made up for by the mass of shredded paper emanating from the Executive Mansion late those evenings as George “deepsixed” documents that various members of the “Palace Guard” brought in to him.

George destroyed the material so quickly that he didn’t have a second to determine what he was being given. He simply stuffed it into burn bags to be carted off.

Cathy was awake when he arrived home one morning at three o’clock.

“I don’t know whether to offer you a nightcap or breakfast,” she joked. “If it were anyone else, I’d think there was another woman.”

“Hell, it’s like a deathwatch over there, Cath. Al Haig feels it’s only a question of time.”

“Why doesn’t Nixon just quit and put everybody — especially the country — out of its misery?”

George looked at her.

“It’s a helluva decision,” he said softly.

“Yes, but he’s got a helluva lot to answer for.”

“So does every politician,” George responded. “We’ve all got some kind of skeleton in our closet.”

“Not you, Georgie,” she said, embracing him. “You’re still a high-minded public servant, aren’t you?”

“Of course,” he answered, trying to seem jocular.

“Then why not quit while you’re ahead? When Nixon goes, let’s go too.”

“Don’t be silly, Cathy. Now’s the time the Administration needs me most.”

He didn’t add that it was a rare opportunity to make a quantum leap ahead in his career.

“Ah,” she said, kissing him on the cheek, “my patriotic husband.”

At eleven-thirty on the morning of August 9, Henry Kissinger buzzed George to come into his office. The White House Chief of Staff was also present.

“Morning, Al,” said George, cheerily doing his best to imitate a military salute.

Haig merely nodded somberly in the direction of the Secretary of State, who was seated at his desk holding a small piece of white paper.

“Oh,” George said solemnly, “is that it?”

Kissinger nodded and handed George the document, which read simply:

Dear Mr. Secretary,

I hereby resign the office of President of the United States.

George scanned it several times and looked at Haig.

“Where’s the President now?” he asked.

“Strictly speaking,” Kissinger replied, “at this moment there is no President.”

Haig concurred. “Yeah. Just think, George. Right now the three most powerful guys in the United States — and by consequence the world — are standing together in the same room. Does it feel good?”

“I’m not sure,” he replied noncommittally. But it did, in fact, feel very good.

“Anyway,” said Kissinger, rising from his chair, “unless we want to rule as a triumvirate, we’d better head for Gerry’s swearing in.”

Gerald Ford had spent the majority of his adult life as a contented congressman from Michigan. He had never aspired to the White House. And yet now he had become the most powerful leader in the Western world, in a tension-filled atmosphere he did not really relish.

The responsibility of office did not weigh too heavily on Ford. He could meet that challenge. But he couldn’t bear the cutthroat competition among his aides for access to his ear.

Old football player that he was, he could recognize a tackle trying to break through to reach the quarterback. And he knew he had to clear the field to give himself some running room.

Obviously, Kissinger had to remain for continuity — and for the nation’s image in the world.

Yet, despite the fact that Haig insisted that the new President badly “needed him,” Ford wanted to get at least this Nixon courtier away from Washington. Happily he found a glittering pretext.

He got Al Haig appointed Supreme Commander of the NATO Forces — thereby transferring him to Brussels. He would remain in the White House just long enough to help in the negotiations for the Nixon pardon.

Then, to establish his own global stature, Ford set off with Kissinger to meet Brezhnev at a summit meeting. Naturally, George Keller was in tow. And he was so conspicuously effective that during the long flight home on Air Force One , the President invited him to his quarters.

“What did you talk about?” Kissinger asked with a scintilla of jealousy as he returned to his seat.

“You won’t believe this, Henry,” he replied. “It was about football.”

“But, George, you don’t know the first thing about the game.

“Listen, Henry, if there’s one thing I learned at Harvard, it was how to pretend that I always know what I’m talking about.”

George and Cathy Keller quickly became the most popular young couple on the Washington social scene.

And George soon discovered that his wife had a remarkable gift for “party politics.” She could initiate a dialogue for him with anyone, and was especially adept at dealing with the Fourth Estate. The press “discovered” the up-and-coming Dr. Keller and wrote admiringly.

There was only one difficulty. George could not adapt to marriage.

There weren’t parties every night, and sometimes he would come home from the office and have no one to talk to but Cathy. He would discourse knowledgeably about the issues of the day. But he was really talking at her.

Marriage vows did not make him less guarded with his emotions. He could give, but he couldn’t share . He could make love, but he couldn’t make her feel loved.

Still she was undaunted, patiently waiting. Surely he would ultimately master the art of intimacy, the way he had every other challenge in his life.

But in the meanwhile she had her own life to live. George had his career, but Cathy had a cause.

Three years earlier, Congress had approved the 27th Amendment to the Constitution, prohibiting sex discrimination against women. If it could be ratified by two-thirds of the states, the equality of male and female would become the law of the land.

Cathy wanted to pack her bags and join the pro-ERA bandwagon to barnstorm the uncommitted states.

“Catherine, this is ridiculous,” George complained. “You’re the last person in the world who needs an equal-rights amendment. You’re strong, you’re independent, you’re a gifted lawyer. My God, if you’d apply yourself, you could become a Supreme Court judge.”

“But, George, isn’t ‘altruism’ in that vast vocabulary of yours? I’m not doing this for me. I want to stand up for the millions of people who are doing a man’s job and getting a woman’s pay.”

“Cathy, you’re starting to talk like a pamphlet.”

“Well, it’s only fair, George. Most of your dinner conversation is like an interdepartmental memo. Do you think it’s fascinating just because it’s about someplace like Afghanistan?”

“Are you accusing me of being boring?”

“No. I’m just accusing you of thinking that all that matters in the world is what goes on in your office.” She sighed in exasperation. “Can’t you appreciate anybody else’s commitment?”

George switched to a more personal plea. “Look, what really bothers me most is that we’ll be separated.”