It’s a canonical image of Richard Nixon, weirdo:
Marching on the beach in the most subversive year in American history, 1969, the new president parallels the Southern California surf in wingtips. In a year of cults, communism, and killing celebrities, Richard Milhous Nixon couldn’t be bothered to even check his Johnston & Murphys while enjoying the coast.
Fifty-five years on, the idea of Nixon, the bête noire of the Baby Boomers, as not only a California president but also the first commander-in-chief from the Golden State may seem almost unimaginable to those born after the year 2000, by which time the West Coast had become the Left Coast, home of all that is politically blue.
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