We like Ike

Rhode Island and Eisenhower: a love story

by E. L. Widmer

Rhode Island has often drawn fancy visitors to her shores, including heads of state. Many, many presidents have stopped by, eager to secure Rhode Island's two electoral votes or, in most cases, just have a good time and escape Washington for a while. Chester A. Arthur vacationed here for a couple years, as did the portly but lovable William Howard Taft, who enjoyed nothing more than a belly flop into Narragansett Bay.

In the modern period, Rhode Island's favorite president has been Dwight D. Eisenhower. Ike couldn't get enough of Little Rhody and vice versa. For three summers, he chose Newport as his vacation destination. Indeed, at just about the height of the cold war, the president of the United States was galavanting around Aquidneck and Block Island Sound, having the time of his life. Presumably, the "football," the suitcase with access to the nuclear codes, was here with him. I can just see it precariously balanced on a cooler of Narragansett beer.

Ike's first holiday here came in 1957, and it was very special indeed. The news of his impending visit had put the entire state in a tizzy. Ike, you see, had announced his plans in July, saying the holiday would happen in August. Then, day after day, Rhode Island had waited for his arrival. Local newspapers began a feeding frenzy of anticipation. Articles speculated about what he would do with his time, and whom he would meet.

August came, and Ikemania went through the roof. Where was he? What day would he arrive? Like a Beckett play, the drama increased every day, well into absurdity. The problem was Ike couldn't leave while a pesky Congress was in session, and Congress was at an impasse over some boring budget problems. Rhode Islanders could barely contain their impatience.

The big day finally came on September 4, 1957. Ike and Co. flew into Quonset, and the madness began. There were all sorts of welcoming festivities, and the Eisenhowers were overwhelmed with gifts from the locals. One fisherman gave Ike a 27-pound lobster, and he was mortally offended when the President forgot to take it with him to his quarters at the Newport Naval Base. ("He just left it lying there," he complained.)

Everything the First Family did was scrutinized by the local press, which had been driven insane with curiosity by the long wait. Even when Ike did nothing at all, it was news. The headline in the Journal the first day, for instance, was PRESIDENT AND WIFE SPEND QUIET EVENING IN NEWPORT. Another article excitedly reported that Mamie Eisenhower had been spotted wearing a Rhode Island hat of some kind.

Before long, it became clear what the President wanted to do on vacation. Golf, golf, and golf. The man who planned the D-Day invasion was now intent on storming every course in southeastern New England. He was on the links constantly. He even had the uniquely Rhode Island experience of encountering a group of eight nuns on a golf course. Of course, this became another article in the Journal.

But Eisenhower hit a bad sand trap almost immediately after his arrival. As his overdue vacation began, he received news that the governor of Arkansas, Orval Faubus, planned on using the Arkansas National Guard to prevent integrating the schools of Little Rock. It soon blew up into a major crisis.

Eisenhower hated to be distracted from his golfing, but this was important. Faubus was summoned to Newport for a meeting, but he didn't back down until Eisenhower threatened to use the Army to ensure cooperation. At the height of the crisis, Ike even had to fly back to Washington to address the nation.

Rhode Islanders, of course, were apoplectic at the bad timing of the crisis. After the vacation was over, there were agonized editorials in the local papers, wondering if the President had enjoyed himself here and lamenting the fact that politics had interfered with his fun.

But in retrospect, it is a source of pride that we were involved in what would become one of the defining moments of the '50s and a herald of the coming battle for civil rights. As Eisenhower fumbled toward the decision that the US had to press forward with integration, he was probably standing on a putting green overlooking Narragansett Bay. Given Newport's historic black population and the fact that a black regiment fought valiantly nearby during the Revolution, it seems appropriate.

Eisenhower came back a year later for a much calmer visit, and again in 1960, as the Kennedy-Nixon race was heating up. (Ike didn't do much campaigning for Nixon). After the Little Rock crisis of 1957, Arkansas became oddly progressive, giving the world William Fulbright and a future governor who would take over Eisenhower's office someday. Sadly, Bill Clinton has forsaken Rhode Island for Martha's Vineyard, but there will be future presidential visits, even if none is as exciting as Ike's first one.

It may be irrelevant to mention this, but who cares: in the early '70s, the other Ike, the one we don't like quite as much, also grew interested in Rhode Island. Ike and Tina Turner recorded an absolutely brilliant song titled "Sweet Rhode Island Red." Oddly, the song is about growing up in Louisiana, even though Tina grew up in Tennessee and Ike in Mississippi, both within an easy drive of Little Rock. Let's just call it a great American song and leave it at that. Rhode Island and Ike: a beautiful love story.

Mocenanippeéan: I will come by and by.

Aspeyàu, asquàm: He is not come yet.

Teáqua naúntick ewò: What comes he for?

-- From Roger Williams's A Key Into the Language of America, 1643