What Does Watergate Mean to Me?

“Haven’t you seen the photo of him and Grandpa?” 

“Who and Grandpa?” I asked. 

“Richard Nixon.” 

My grandfather and President Nixon shake hands, faces amicable. It’s in black and white, but something about the crispness of the photo and their big smiles drew me in. Where were they? What year was it taken? How had they even met? There was a man I knew, my relative, in such close proximity to American history. To say I was captivated by this picture is an understatement. 

The iPhone photo my mother shared with me entertained me for the evening, but after hours of asking for it, my aunt overnighted the original copy to me. It’s pinned on my bulletin board to this day, a favorite among the keepsakes in my room. 

The photo came up because I was reviewing my AP US History notes in the kitchen while my mom cooked. My textbook contained a photo of McCarthyism-Era Nixon, his beaming 37-year-old face labeled “prominent red-catcher.” I made some offhanded joke about how he seemed a promising figure. My mother laughed, left the room, and returned with the photo.

The first few days that I had the picture, I felt like a celebrity. I immediately sent it to all of my friends, who showed minor interest. So minor, in fact, that a few of them did not actually recognize who Richard Nixon was. I was especially excited to show it to my APUSH teacher, Mr. Jacobs. He began doing a bit which implied my grandfather was actually a White House Plumber.

“Bob!” he’d say, in this ridiculous Nixon voice. “I need you to do some work for me down at this little hotel in DC.” This would become funnier to me months later, when I

became something of a Nixon expert. The joke continued for the rest of the day, becoming more and more elaborate.

At the time, I hadn’t covered the Watergate scandal in class yet, so I didn’t understand Mr. Jacobs’s references. I decided that I had to know what he was talking about, and I vowed to learn all I could. Now, having heard the president’s guttural voice many times over, I’ve decided Mr. Jacobs was an excellent impersonator.

Google and Wikipedia searches were unsatisfying. There were plenty of basic facts and dates, but I didn’t feel like I knew the story. So I bought a book—the first of many. It was a great starting point, but it was written in the style of narrative nonfiction. This inevitably means a lot of embellishment and added events, which frustrated me. There was too much content to verify which aspects were concrete and which were tacked on. In my new self-appointed role as a Nixon scholar, I sought to truly understand the story. I found during my reading that I didn’t want to be spoon-fed an author’s perspective on Nixon. What I wanted was to understand the subject so intimately that I could determine the validity of sources on my own. 

So the obsession continued. Podcasts, documentaries, books, more books, interviews, speeches, audio recordings of White House tapes. Every day, I assailed my friends with new facts about the botched break-in, the legion of journalists on the case, or the 1970s White House. I believe every single birthday card or gift I received that particular year referenced Nixon in some way. I saw this as acknowledgement that I had achieved expertise. My fascination with this fumbled attempt at espionage persists, evident by the Watergate section on my bookshelf, the “Nixon bugs me” pin on my bag, and the giant poster of the man himself on the wall of my bedroom. My go-to when introducing this interest is simply “Go ahead and ask me a question, I can answer it.” 

On March 18, 2025, I bragged to my friends about the photo of Nixon and my grandfather. Twenty-seven months later, I can truly say that my infatuation with Richard Nixon is no longer about the novelty of being connected to him but the fascination with his story. 

His tale demonstrates how obsession with winning can demolish even the most accomplished of careers. 

But the picture tells dual stories, a clash of incompatible figures. Republican Senator Nixon shakes hands with my soon-to-become libertarian grandfather at a chapter meeting of his college’s Young Republicans club. Watergate evokes the same need for nuanced observation: a blur of political chaos encompassing dozens of characters. Understanding complexities like these drives me forward.

Uncovering Nixon’s story went far beyond sophomore year US History. I am always seeking out opportunities to discuss Watergate and the Nixon presidency with my peers and have made a number of new friends just by doing so. I truly have made myself an expert. And I am not claiming that such a thing is a competition. However, as of today, I have yet to meet another holder of the Crowson/Jacobs AP Block Awards class title: Resident Watergate Expert.