Letters between Nelson Rockefeller (Governor of New York, moderate Republican and electoral foe to Senator Barry Goldwater) and Carter Ridge, from The Rockefeller Archive:
June 12th, 1962
Aiken, South Carolina
Dear Governor,
Elated beyond words that we were able to meet at Hope Iselin’s cocktail party this past weekend. As I told you, I have been a great admirer of you and your work for many years now, and look forward to working closely together as a fellow governor soon.
Very best regards,
Carter Ridge
June 19, 1962
NYC, NY
My dear Carter,
I whole-heartedly concur with your assessment of the festivities at Hope’s. Her bartenders make the best Pisco Sours in the Hamptons, and I admire your restraint in sticking with the scotch. I know that you will impress all of us in the months, and years ahead, and look forward to working closely together in any and all of your future successes. Please keep me in mind next time you are in New York. My campaign commitments are keeping me busy for the time being, but will happily slip away for another one of our tête-à-têtes if fortunes allow.
Cordially,
Nelson
November 1963, Charleston, South Carolina
The throngs in front of the Dock Street Theatre were equal parts ticket-holders, casual spectators, and autograph-seeking fans. A rumor had circulated that not only would Governor Ridge be in attendance, but also crooner Andy Williams, for the filming of the pilot of The Southerners. Reporters from the local television, radio, and newspaper were positioned to interview bystanders, and when Mayor Gaillard arrived with his wife, he smiled and made a few comments before entering the main entrance.
Carter and Gabriel entered from a rear entrance for stagehands, bypassing the mayhem in front, and found their seats in the center box on the balcony. Their semi-secluded little enclosure would normally seat four, but the entire space had been reserved for the Governor. Since Carter was usually seen in public with a Citadel cadet, their presence together did not register any consternation or approbation from their fellow attendees in the full theatre.
“Did I tell you that you look very handsome tonight?” Gabriel said as they sat. “I forgot to tell you last night, because it was all like a dream.”
Carter blushed, and said, “Thanks. You look particularly dashing yourself.”
“I’m always dressed in the same uniform,” Gabriel said, laughing. “I have three of these jackets and pants, all identical. The only thing different tonight is that I have this.” He undid his top button on his grey jacket, unlatching the black collar, and pulled out a fine gold chain necklace with a tiny crucifix. He glanced up at Carter bashfully and said, “I don’t know, for some reason I wanted to wear it tonight. It kind of makes me feel sexy.”
Carter looked at it and admitted that it did indeed make him even sexier, “If that is even possible.” He could feel getting hard again, and shifted as he watched Gabriel put his necklace back into hiding beneath his jacket and collar.
Soon the auditorium was filled, and the lights dimmed. There were three television cameras set up at different angles mid-way in the main level of the theatre, and breaking the hush of the assembled the orchestra began playing Quinton’s opening theme. A loud male voice over the public address system announced, “Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to...The Southerners.” As the audience applauded, from the opposite sides of the stage came the two hosts, Glen Campbell and Dionne Warwick. They were both smiling and began singing a duet of ‘Wishin’ and Hopin’, and when they began singing Carter stole a glance at Gabriel who was enthralled with the spectacle of it all. He felt a rush of love for Gabriel, as he sat at the edge of his seat looking down at the intricate mechanics of the television crews turning the cameras, the lights following the two singers, and the perfect timing the conductor kept as he led the orchestra with the cues from Glen and Dionne.
The elaborately practiced production reminded Carter of his own life, how every action and appearance for years had been carefully scripted, if not by Margot, then by himself, to hide his own true self from his teammates at Aiken Prep, from friends he had made throughout the state, from his own family.
After they finished their second song, an R&B rendition of country singer Buck Owens’ ‘Love’s Gonna Live Here Again’, the room exploded in applause, with Gabriel joining in, lost in the pandemonium of the audience.
The show continued, with cuts for a future insertion of commercial breaks, and after the second break, the two hosts began bantering while the orchestra played the recognizable opening strains of Andy Williams’ hit song, ‘Can’t Get Used to Losing You’. Carter had personally asked Andy to perform a couple of songs for the show, which he gladly agreed to. As the violins grew louder, Andy came out onto the stage and joined Glen and Dionne. The rehearsed dialogue was obviously contrived, but its hokey charm was endearing to even someone as jaded as Carter. This has been my whole life, he said to himself, pretending. When the audience hushed for Andy as he started singing, Carter slipped his hand over to Gabriel, sliding it into his, without looking at him. He felt a tear well in his eye, and let it roll down his cheek, allowing himself to live in the moment as the crooner sang to the packed theatre. When he had finished, he smiled and said, “Thank you so much. You’re a wonderful audience.”
He walked over to a stool that had been set up, and was joined by Glen and Dionne. “Let me take a moment,” he said, “and thank one person in particular for inviting me here tonight. This is an experiment, this evening. The first fully integrated audience in the South, a beautiful Negro and a fine young white man singing to each other on the stage — this, is quite simply, a wonderful evening. So let me thank our host, my good friend, Governor Ridge, who is somewhere in the audience.”
Andy shielded his eyes with his free hand, searching past the intense light beamed onto him, trying to find Carter in the audience. One of the lights shifted to the balcony and found Carter, who stood and bowed slightly, waving back as the audience applauded. He felt his cheeks redden, and when he sat back down, Gabriel said, “Come on! That is so cool.”
“I was wondering if Glen and Dionne would like to join me in this,” Andy said as he turned to the hosts, “you know, it’s the most wonderful time of the year coming up.”
As the orchestra brass began playing the cheerful blasts of his new single, ‘It’s The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year’, Gabriel returned his hand, sliding it back under Carter’s on Carter’s lap.
After a final commercial break, the show ended with a heartfelt solo by Dionne Warwick as she sang her hit ‘Don’t Make Me Over’. The lyrics Carter already knew by heart, having played her album repeatedly since he had bought it earlier that year. She strode to the center of the stage, and as the single spotlight narrowed on her with the strings in the orchestra swelling and her backup singers swaying, she belted out the lyrics pleading to not have to change.
Carter grabbed Gabriel’s hand, to let him know that this was for him. The whole song, the show, the entire evening, the rest that was to come, was all for him. He dared not look at Gabriel, his heart was brimming with so much emotion, he was struggling to breathe, to keep his tears contained, but realizing that this false barrier between him and the rest of life was exactly what he was trying to break free from, as she reached her crescendo calling for acceptance from her lover, he began crying. He couldn’t control it anymore, he couldn’t control any of his life. It was now open and free and racing in all directions just like the tears pouring from him. He was embarrassed, but relieved to let it all out, and as the audience cheered and clapped, he released his grasp from Gabriel just long enough to find his handkerchief and wipe his nose and eyes.
With the lights coming back on, he looked over at Gabriel, who had also been crying. They both sheepishly put away their handkerchiefs, and after straightening their collars and hair, stood. The orchestra was still playing, a reprise of Quinton’s theme song as the audience began filing for the exit.
“Let’s wait a moment,” Carter said. “I don’t feel like dealing with the mob down there just now.” He smiled at Gabriel, whose eyes were still moist.
They spent a fair amount of time backstage afterwards, talking and laughing with Quinton, Andy, Glen and Dionne. Carter told Dionne what a huge fan he was, blushing in her presence, fumbling his words like a star-crossed teenager. When it became apparent that the cast and crew were ready to leave for their celebratory dinner at a nearby restaurant, Carter begged off that he should let them have their evening together. “Y’all deserve it,” he said as he waved goodbye.
Once back in the car, he said to Gabriel, “I took the liberty of making our own dinner reservation, if that is okay with you.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to exchange me with Dionne Warwick?” he teased. He poked Carter’s ribs, and Carter flinched back. “Are you ticklish?” Gabriel asked gleefully, and before Carter could respond gave him another quick couple of pokes.
“Stop it, or I’m going to get the hiccups,” Carter said, trying to fight back. Gabriel relented, laughing, and said, “Boy, I had no idea I had such power over you. Just the...mere...” he said, continuing to feign pokes. Carter was giggling, when he suddenly hiccupped.
He held his breath relieving his hiccups, and as they drove to the restaurant, they talked about the production, the songs, and the impressions each had of the evening. Gabriel admitted that it was the first time he had seen a live show, he had never even been to a concert. Hearing him recount his observations, through his eyes, gratified Carter. The world seemed new again to Carter, as they each stepped out in this new adventure they seemed to be forging together.
Carter had chosen this particular restaurant because it captured the essence of his vision of The Good Life, and specifically his idea of a Southern Renaissance that would harness the best traditions of the past and reinterpret them into something modern. The restaurant was housed in an antebellum mansion, with candles illuminating the hospitality door from the street onto the long piazza the length of the house. The porch doubled as outdoor seating for the restaurant, and as the two of them walked up the few stairs to the piazza, a pianist could be heard playing a concert piano inside one of the rooms. As was his usual custom, he had asked in advance for a more secluded table, where he could dote on Gabriel without prying eyes. The host had obliged with a table off from the bar, with a view of the piazza and main room, opposite the piano player.
“This place has taken traditional Southern cuisine, and reinvented it into something new and wonderful,” Carter said to Gabriel as they placed their napkins on their laps. They took a look at the menu, commenting on what they thought seemed interesting, and Carter asked if Gabriel would like some wine with dinner.
“It does seem appropriate, it’s that kind of evening,” Gabriel said with a big grin.
The pianist played various show tunes as the evening progressed, with Carter talking about how much he loved Charleston. “Gosh, I love this style of architecture, these long narrow houses, their porch piazzas, the little details, look, see the pineapple carved above the door frames? And the hurricane lamps that they’ve used as decorative accents throughout, all of these details inspired me when I built Galanos. I can’t wait for you to see my place.”
After taking a sip of water, he continued, “To me, what sets Charleston apart as a diamond in the rough is this beautiful architectural record, from the colonial period up until the Civil War. It is absolutely unique and distinctive and needs to be cherished.” He paused for a moment, reflecting with a sigh, then added, “The Good Life could have been a catalyst of profound change. Everything about it was centered on building a modern extension of this beauty. We all have it, it’s within us. To celebrate life, through music, literature, food, and, well, I guess it is just disappointing for me that it won’t come to pass.” He paused again, letting his thoughts catch up with him, and then said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t want tonight to be about the past. Let’s talk about the future.”
Gabriel smiled slyly, and then said, “Didn’t you once say that Galanos has a pool?”
“Hmmm, why yes it does,” Carter said. He smiled. “Pity that it is winter, I would have loved to have seen you and your cute little necklace in my pool.”
“Oh would you, now?” Gabriel said, leaning in.
The pianist began playing ‘‘S Wonderful’ just as their waiter arrived with their braised pork belly ribs over Cajun rice with roasted squash, macaroni and gruyere cheese, and shrimp with grits. The host came by after a moment’s pause and asked how everything was.
“’S Wonderful,” Gabriel said, with a huge smile.
Carter laughed and said to the maître, “Exactly, everything is perfect.”
During the drive back to Galanos the next day, Carter replayed the previous couple of days in his mind. He and Gabriel had sworn their devotion with their last embrace in the shadows outside the walls of the Citadel. Gabriel promised that he would send the five letters he had already written, and that they would write to each other every day. Neither knew when they would see the other again, but they knew that they would, and that was what allowed them to finally pull apart, with Gabriel walking into the darkened courtyard of his barracks.
Back alone at home Carter felt different, as if he was still seeing the world through the virgin eyes of Gabriel. He settled into his armchair, listening to Dionne Warwick on his hi-fi, but his mind remained fixated on Charleston. By Monday with the return to reality at his office in Columbia, his transformation was total. Even Darren commented on it when he finished their morning staff meeting.
“You seem so relaxed, sir,” he said once the others had left Carter’s office. “Like a different man. I guess Charleston worked its magic on you this past weekend.”
Carter just smiled. It wasn’t that he didn’t care anymore about pushing forward with his agenda; it was that he now had a perspective as to what really mattered to him. The game of politics had just become that, a game. It required no more emotional investment than if he allowed himself to become anxious over a game of checkers or chess. The pieces of his program might be scattered across the floor after the Senate had turned over the whole game board the previous week, but he let the others pick them up. The tactics for the coming weeks and months promised a tedious series of endless negotiations with countless stake players who would jockey and back-deal themselves for some advantage, but for Carter it was now just background noise. He had already fought those fights, and he knew that Darren was ready to show his resolve in the face of these coming battles.
As Darren was getting up to leave, the cadet answering the phones came into the office.
“Sir, I have Governor Rockefeller on the phone for you,” he said.
Darren raised his eyebrows, and asked, “You want me to sit in on this?”
“Sure, pull up a seat,” Carter said. “Thank-you, Cadet Tomlinson, please transfer the call.”
A moment later his phone rang, and he picked up. “This is Carter,” he said.
“One moment, governor. I’ll connect you with the governor,” said the operator with a distinct New York accent. Carter heard a series of clicks, and finally another voice saying, “Ma’am I have South Carolina on the line.”
“Thank-you, connecting, one moment please,” said the other voice. He heard another click, and Governor Rockefeller said, “Carter, this is Rocky, how are you doing sir?”
“I’m doing very well, thank-you, governor.”
“Well, I’m just delighted to hear that. You know, your better half, Miss Margot, is having lunch with Happy later this afternoon, and I wanted to let you know before you hear it from her. I’m going to officially announce my candidacy for President this Thursday. On the 7th.”
Carter held the phone out from his ear a bit so that Darren could listen in, and said within the voice receiver, “Congratulations, Rocky. I’m very, very happy to hear that.”
“Thank-you, Carter. I want you as part of my team. I want you to be an integral voice of liberalism for me in the South. Can I count on you to help me fight for civil rights together in 1964?”
Carter paused and sighed. Darren looked at him, and Carter ran his left hand through his hair. “Sir, I would be delighted. It would be my honor to join you in this fight,” Carter said.
“Excellent, excellent,” Rockefeller said on the other end. “Listen, there is a lot of planning we both need to do, but I’m sure you and I both can agree that between the two of us, and Margot and Happy, we’ll figure it all out.”
Carter faked a smile, which he hoped translated over the miles of telephone line, and said, “I’m sure you’re right, Rocky.”
A bit of static broke through, and as if on cue, Rockefeller said, “I’m going to let you go, but thanks again, Carter, for your support. It means a lot to me. Can we see each other sometime in the coming weeks once we have an idea of how to best use your talents?”
“Yes, sir,” Carter said. “And have a good rest of your day. Talk to you soon.”
After the line went dead, Carter replaced the receiver, and turned to Darren. The announcement hadn’t been unexpected, nor had Carter’s participation as an active surrogate for Rockefeller been unforeseen, but he sensed an opportunity despite Margot’s obvious influence in dealing this hand to him.
“Of course, once I get more details from Rockefeller’s team, I’m going to have to do a fair amount of travel, so I’ll need you to keep a firm hand here for me.”
Darren nodded, and pulled out his notebook.
Carter liked that about Darren. He had learned well from working so close with Margot during the campaign. He had gotten all of her good organizational traits, and unlike with Margot, it came with none of the overwhelming sense that he was judging Carter’s every desire and movement. Darren also maintained a less ruthless sense of competition, as opposed to Margot’s often cutthroat instincts for survival.
“So,” Carter began, “Let’s come up with a list of things that I’ll need to have you take a more active role in when I’m gone. I think you should also talk to Johnston for a weekly lunch, it would reflect well on us both, and on you particularly.”
“The lieutenant governor and I already have our weekly meeting, so a lunch would be good,” Darren said as he wrote in his notebook.
“I don’t want to pull you away from here, but I will need to have someone accompany me as an, how do you put it in military terms, aide-de-camp?” Carter said, hoping that this reference would jigger a quick association with the Citadel.
“That’s correct, sir,” Darren said, looking up at Carter. “Well, we could have one of the cadets join you, if you think that would help. Or, have one of the secretaries travel with you.”
Carter shook his head, “No, both of the girls have husbands and family, I don’t want to pull them away from their normal lives.”
He waited a couple of beats and then said, “I think perhaps one of the cadets would be fine. We’ll get to that when I know more from Rocky’s team.”