He Has Not Deserted the Old Haunts

THE PRESIDENCY

He is a member of Elks Lodge No. 48 in Grand Rapids. The furniture city's American Legion post carries him on its rolls. He is counted among the members of the Grace Episcopal Church. Old Troop No. 15, Boy Scouts of America, is collecting his mementos (he was one of the youngest Eagle Scouts in its history). The Michigan Bar Association has designated him Permanent Member No. 13563, in case he goes into court, and listed him as Ford, Gerald R., 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, Washington, D.C., President of the United States.

In times of proud power, any President having an Elm Street root system like the above would be subjected to dripping sarcasm by the polemicists of the more sophisticated intellectual organs. There was some of it at first, but it has quieted to a remarkable degree. In a time of stress, like the one we have been through, a lot of people come home again to the fact that the churches and schools, the service clubs and lodge halls hold much of our society together. Jerry Ford's unabashed membership is a factor in his mounting popularity. His world is wider now, but he has not deserted the old haunts, geographically or intellectually.

Once, when he was returning after a Republican fund-raising dinner paying tribute to retiring Senator George Aiken, an aide pointed out that he had spent as much time in a drafty gymnasium in Vermont listening to bad speeches as he had spent with the National Security Council that afternoon in Washington. Something should be changed. "No," said Ford. "I like it."

Such events nourish him. He has just finished attending the Cherry Festival in Traverse City, Mich. That goes on the list with the Holland Tulip Festival and the Virginia Apple Blossom Festival. One of his happiest afternoons in his first year at the White House was taking the Soviet cosmonauts to the Alexandria, Va., firemen's picnic.

While Ford has parleyed with Brezhnev and Wilson and a dozen other statesmen, he counts a couple of his most memorable moments as the night he sat in Boston's Old North Church to commemorate the 200th anniversary of Paul Revere's ride and the evening of July 4 when he stood in Baltimore's Fort McHenry and gazed at the Stars and Stripes and heard the cannons rumble out over the bay. His favorite newspaper may be the Grand Rapids Press, which he scans for news of his friends. When the mother of an old acquaintance died there a few days ago, a bouquet was sent into the home. "To Momma Mary, Betty and Jerry," read the card.

Ford's favorite photo of the year (other than those of his family) is one of him in his office with the family dog Liberty. He likes steak best as a dining staple, despite his exposure to the French cuisine, and his alltime top treat remains butter pecan ice cream. He has noted the real estate progress on the helicopter route from the White House to Andrews Air Force Base, remarked on the beauty of the Maryland mountains over which he flies to Camp David, and just two weeks ago he looked down on the islands of Lake Michigan, picking out the ones where he had canoed and camped as a boy.

He likes neckties, almost all of them striped, and he sometimes carries an extra in his briefcase for a midday change. He has been given a bunch of fancy robes for his new swimming pool, but he prefers an old red terry-cloth number. His blue leather chair from Alexandria is the one he seeks out at night for his homework. If he has a favorite musical number, it is probably Oklahoma! Judging by his reaction to movies this year, That's Entertainment is at the top of his list. He does not watch much television, but if he had to vote he would no doubt cast his ballot for sports events and maybe Cannon, the saga of a paunchy, aging private eye.

He puffs through eight to ten pipeloads of tobacco a day and worries about it. He asks for two olives in his martini. Swimming is his favorite sport, early morning the best time of his day, and a Sunday-afternoon round of golf is his special weekly fix.

His contact lenses did not work, so he gave them up. He cannot abide a dictating machine, and so writes his memos with his left hand, longhand. He eschews anything to do with guns, even trapshooting. While he keeps a watch on the University of Michigan teams, he keeps closer ties with his teen-age football mates, the Trojans of South High School.

Some are saying that Jerry Ford is engaged in leadership by nostalgia, ladling out comforting potions of sugared water, an approach that may be fine for a while but is no medicine for the future. Perhaps they forget American history. After the visionaries and adventurers came the people of the farms, the stores and the factories, and their part of the experiment was just as revolutionary as the rest.

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so viewer discretion is required.