How Not to Lose Your Ass

American Presidents generally like to be dealt in. Ulysses Grant was probably the first to play poker while in the White House; he had a reputation as a pretty savage penny-ante player during the sober stretches of his Administration. Other Chief Executives through history have admitted to raking in occasional pots, although Franklin Roosevelt is supposed to have lost more often than not. His Vice-President, "Cactus Jack" Garner, used to beat him consistently, a problem F.D.R. solved rather neatly by dropping him from the ticket as soon as he could. Harry Truman played regularly—although not as avidly as some stories have it—and sometimes won, despite a Missouri-born tendency to stay in every hand ever dealt to him. He found poker a useful political tool: When he was considering a man for an important Government post, he'd have him over for a few hands with the boys; if the man held up under poker pressure, he usually got the appointment.

Our last elected President—to use the term loosely—was reputedly partial to draw poker. Out of curiosity, ace reporter Barbara Nellis tracked down a couple of Richard Nixon's old card buddies, fellow officers during World War Two in the Pacific. One of them, James Stewart, now 61 and an insurance broker in New York, told Nellis that it was he who taught a quiet, dark-jowled lieutenant j.g. how to play the game.

"We were living ashore on Green Island in the spring of 1944," Stewart recalled, "and Nixon spent most of his time inside the tent, reading his Bible. He was quite a Quaker then. Me, I'd found a good game and kept disappearing every night after dinner. Nixon got curious, came along with me one evening and asked me to teach him how to play. I taught him some pretty standard stuff—never call unless you have better than a pair of jacks going into the draw, that kind of thing— and he must have (concluded on page 184)Full House(continued from page 112) learned it pretty well. In the next two months, to my sure knowledge, he won more than $6000. I met him later when he was running for Congress and he told me his winnings helped launch his first political campaign."

Another Navy poker friend of Nixon's, who asked to remain anonymous, said he remembered one thing in particular about the way Nixon played: "It was always a basically friendly game, a lot of horseplay, so when a loser who'd dropped out of a big hand occasionally asked a winner to show his cards, the winner usually did it, just as a gesture. But not Nixon. When he won a pot without being called, he'd toss his hand in real quick and mix it with the discards—always reminded me of the kid at school who'd bend over and shield his test paper to make sure nobody would copy from him."

Nixon switched to football terminology when he became leader of the Free World, but in his 1962 book, Six Crises, poker was still his preferred metaphor: "Khrushchev has often been called a chess player in conducting his international policies.... I do not know chess, but I know poker; and there is no doubt but that Khrushchev would have been a superb poker player. First, he is out to win. Second, like any good poker player, he plans ahead so that he can win the big pots. He likes to bluff, but he knows that if you bluff on small pots and fail consistently to produce the cards, you must expect your opponent to call your bluff on the big pots.... That is why the two small islands of Quemoy and Matsu, and all the other peripheral areas, are so important in the poker game of world politics."

Enough hard facts. It isn't known whether Nixon continued to play poker in the White House, but it makes for wonderful fantasy. Imagine, if you will, a game among Nixon's closest associates early in 1971. If a tape of the evening's events were subpoenaed, and kept out of Rose Mary Woods's hands, it might sound something like this:

Dean: Who didn't ante?

Haldeman: I can't recall.

Ehrlichman: I can't recall.

President: I could take the responsibility, but that would be the easy thing.

Ziegler: I have to go along with the President on that.

Dean: Spiro, you had your hand near the pot. Maybe you accidentally scooped a few chips—

Agnew: I was only stretching my arm, it was stiff.

Dean: Well, we have to get the pot right somehow. Only two antes in there, mine and Bebe's. The rest—

President: For Christ's sake, get it!

Rebozo: Look, why don't I just ante for everyone?

President: Good boy, Bebe.

Ziegler: There I have to agree with the President.

Dean: Hey, does this deck of cards feel funny to anybody? I know they're your cards, Mr. President, they have the White House emblem on them and all, but the edges seem to be shaved or something. Anyone else notice?

Haldeman: I can't recall.

Ehrlichman: I can't recall.

President: I don't give a shit, deal the cards! Spiro, your hand is in the pot again. Do you want me to give it a slap?

Agnew: Nolo, thanks.

Dean: I think I'll sit this one out.

(Five-card draw is dealt.)

President: Since you're out of this, Dean, m'boy, why don't you just peek at my hand and give me some advice. Careful not to give me away, though.

Dean: What an exciting prospect! (To the others) He's got garbage. All (in unison): I fold.

Ford: Hi. Can I join the game? Let's see, a pair beats a flush, right?

Back to hard-hitting investigative journalism. Reporter Nellis checked out one more fact about Nixon's poker background: The IRS will not comment officially, but there is no evidence that a Richard M. Nixon paid any taxes on additional income of $6000 back in 1944.