THE PRESIDENCY: Come Rain, Come Shine

As Corsica came up on the radar screen of the President’s Boeing jet, some 5½ hours out of a refueling stop at Goose Bay, the President’s pilot got a discouraging report. Not only was Rome getting the rain promised on his long-range forecast, but the storm was worse than expected. Minutes later Colonel William Draper was cautiously circling Rome’s Ciampino Airport. Then, assured of a minimum ceiling, he made his instrument approach, splashed to a smooth landing, and pulled up just twelve minutes behind schedule in front of a cluster of Italian officialdom.

Out of the big aircraft’s forward hatch stepped Dwight Eisenhower, wearing a grey topcoat and a grey felt hat. The weather omens were inauspicious as he stepped lightly down the ramp to begin his historic 19-day tour of eleven nations. But with his evident ease and friendship, he carried his own omens. He doffed his hat in the rain as he shook hands with Italy’s President Giovanni Gronchi and Premier Antonio Segni, doffed it again as a band played short versions of the U.S.’s Star-Spangled Banner and Italy’s Inno di Mameli.

“Long Live Peace.” In his brief airport statement, Ike delivered his theme message of “peace and friendship in freedom,” noted that in the U.S. more than 10 million Italian-descended citizens claim heritage “from the Italian civilization.” Then he got into Gronchi’s official Fiat, drove the long way into Rome along the Old Appian Way—the historic route. Crowd turnout in the heavy rain: thin. The motorcade rolled through the Gate of San Sebastiano, past the Baths of Caracalla and the Colosseum, into the Piazza Venezia, where Mussolini used to strut and harangue. Even there, only 2,000 umbrella-toting Romans came out to look, and only a few shouted “Viva Ike” (pronounced Eekay). Among the most vociferous were Rome’s Communists, who had greeted SHAPE Supreme Commander Ike on his last visit in 1952 with IKE, GO HOME, now waved placards praising THE SPIRIT or CAMP DAVID, and urging SUMMIT IMMEDIATELY, END COLD WAR and LONG LIVE PEACE.

As the procession rolled up to the Quirinale Palace, where the President and his party were to stay, Italy’s President Gronchi seemed acutely embarrassed about the rain-splashed welcome. “Ah, Mr. President,” said Gronchi, with a sad-eyed shrug. Ike reached out and patted Gronchi on the sleeve, said he felt that the welcome had been very warm, expressed understanding about the bad weather. And in the splendid patina of the Quirinale, the party’s spirits picked up. That afternoon Ike found time for a nap. His son Major John and Daughter-in-Law Barbara explored the sprawling, centuries-old palace (“This is living,” said Major John). That evening, after a talk with Gronchi, Ike walked from his quarters in the Quirinale to another apartment to be guest of honor at a glittering state banquet for 70. Next came a reception that spread through a dozen rooms, attended by 6,000 lavishly dressed Romans. “Doesn’t he look well?” a diplomat said. “Oh, this is marvelous, marvelous.”

“The Cornerstone.” It was still raining when Ike began the next day’s ceremonies by laying a wreath at the Tomb of Italy’s Unknown Soldier—and he got another dousing as he stood bareheaded in salute. He drove to the U.S. embassy’s Palazzo Margherita, chatted briefly with the embassy staff.

At 10 a.m. he settled down at the Viminale Palace for formal talks with Premier Segni and Foreign Minister Giuseppe Pella. The President sat across a table from Segni. At his side sat the State Department’s soon-to-retire Troubleshooter Bob Murphy. For two hours they talked, and the conversation ranged from Berlin to disarmament. At 1:45 p.m. Ike attended a stag luncheon given by Segni, had a short break, went into a second meeting with Segni & Co. starting at 5:30 p.m. That evening Ike gave a dinner at the U.S. embassy residence, Villa Taverna. for Italy’s President Gronchi.

At talk’s end, the U.S. and Italy agreed on a warm final communiqué, pledged to 1) rely upon NATO as “the cornerstone” of foreign policy; 2) accelerate economic growth of underdeveloped countries with Western Europe playing a bigger part; 3) pursue policies aimed toward disarmament, “which can be achieved only within the framework of a specific system of controls, inspection and safeguards”; 4) expand freer world trade. Informally, the Italians asked for and got Ike’s assurance that Italy would be fully consulted in advance of the coming East-West summit.

Men Named John. Ike woke up early Sunday morning. Rome’s sky at last was blue and cloudless. He had the standard small-steak breakfast, drove a few blocks to attend the 8 o’clock service at the American Episcopal Church of St. Paul on the Via Nazionale, one of the few Protestant churches in Rome. Then, in a powder-blue Plymouth convertible, he set out for the Vatican to keep the first presidential appointment with the Pope since Woodrow Wilson visited Pope Benedict XV in 1919.

The President’s motorcade rolled grandly into St. Peter’s Square, and in the bright new sunshine 5,000 Romans were gathered to greet him. In the courtyard of San Damaso, Ike got out of his car, took the salute of the Palatine Guard, reviewed the Swiss Guards in their red-and-yellow doublets. As he walked through Raphael’s Loggias to the Pope’s quarters, he looked ruddy and hale, but he licked his lips somewhat nervously. Said Domenico Cardinal Tardini, the Vatican Secretary of State: “You have brought us the sunshine, Mr. President.”

Pope John XXIII met the President at the door of the papal study. The President, in the Protestant manner, shook hands and bowed. The Pope ushered him inside for a private talk (with translators) that lasted 32 minutes. The Pope recalled how they had met in Paris during the early 19503 when Ike was SHAPE chief and Pope John was then papal nuncio. Turning to Ike’s current mission, the Pope mentioned that in the search for peace in liberty, it should not be forgotten that millions of Catholics behind the Iron Curtain did not now have the right of free worship.

Then the Pope tinkled a small bell on his desk, signaling for the next part of the audience. Into the study came John and Barbara Eisenhower, followed shortly by Diplomat Murphy. The Pope surprised them by reading in newly learned English a tribute to the U.S. that included this note: “In the group of persons accompanying Your Excellency, it is a pleasure to note the inclusion of your son because of the happy coincidence of the name John, which he bears in common with us.” Ike responded: “I thank Your Holiness for the words you have addressed to me, my family and my country.”

The President, on his way out through Clementine Hall, saw a group of American nuns, broke ranks to greet them. “Where are you from?” he asked one. “Cincinnati, Ohio,” said she. And on his way out of sunny Rome, Ike got a rousing cheer from U.S. seminarians as he took off in a helicopter from the Janiculum Hill en route to his jet at Ciampino Airport.

“It’s Stupendous.” Two hours and 48 minutes later, Ike’s jet touched down in bright sunshine at Esenboga Airport outside Ankara, Turkey. The Turks were waiting for him. Hundreds of thousands had been pouring into Ankara (pop. 500,000) for hours; they lined the downtown streets 20 or 30 deep. Ike’s route was decorated with a dozen ceremonial arches bearing pointed messages in English: TURKS ARE YOUR REAL FRIENDS, IKE, and ALWAYS HAND IN HAND, IKE, and here and there PEACE, YES; CONCESSIONS, NO and HONOR AND FREEDOM AT ALL COSTS, NOT PEACE AT ALL COSTS.

The Turkish government had set up crenelated watchtowers to symbolize Turkey’s unrelenting watch on its Russian border, and lined the roads and streets with hard-boiled infantrymen whom the U.S. military-aid program helps maintain. After President Eisenhower had stepped off the plane, exchanged brief greetings with Turkey’s President Celal Bayar and Premier Adnan Menderes, he faced a Turkish guard of honor. “Merhaba, asker,” Ike shouted, in the traditional Turkish salute, meaning “Greetings, soldiers!” The guard shouted back, “Sag ol!” meaning “Accept our esteem!”

Then the President wheeled into a welcome that ranked beside the greetings of London, Bonn and Paris during his tour of Western Europe last summer. On the edge of Ankara he was led to a venerable 1934 open-top Lincoln to ride into the city. It was the car of Kemal Ataturk, the late great founder of modern Turkey. Ike got into Ataturk’s car, stood up, stretched out his arms in his famous salute, and the hundreds of thousands of Turks let out a mass roar of pleasure that rolled on and on into the heart of town. Mounted lancers fell in, ahead of and behind the President’s car. Dancers cavorted to weird shrieks of Turkish music on either side. Dozens of bands blasted forth music up to and including Stars and Stripes Forever and Anchors Aweigh as Turks yelled out in English: “We like Ike! We like Ike!” Said Ike: “Stupendous.”

Resolute Spirit. First order of business amid this tumult was to accept a degree in political science from the University of Ankara. The citation praised Eisenhower as soldier and President, noted that he had served as president of Columbia University. Another honor: honorary membership in the Turkish War Veterans Association. Said Ike, as he accepted: “I know what kind of fighters the Turks are, so I appreciate this very much.”

As dusk fell across Ankara, as smoke from thousands of homes laid a foglike pall over the city, Ike’s mission moved toward a high point. He rode out of town again to lay a wreath at the Ataturk Mausoleum. There he shed his topcoat in the chill evening air, laid a wreath of white and red carnations, stood with head bowed. So many flashbulbs flashed in his face that he seemed a bit blinded. “Do you mind if I take your arm?” he said to a Turkish official as they walked away.

Behind closed doors Turkey’s Foreign Minister Fatin Zorlu urged him to be “cautious and realistic” in his coming dealings with the Russians. Ike assured the Turks that U.S. willingness to negotiate with the U.S.S.R. did not mean that the U.S. would give ground. That evening, at a dinner in the presidential palace, the President of the U.S. paid his own unique tribute to the doughty land that had done him such honor. Said he: “No power on earth, no evil, no threat can frustrate a people of your spirit.”

The Turks officially accorded him their “full confidence.” And as the President of the U.S. flew on next morning in his jet to Pakistan, Afghanistan and India, such renewed confidence rode with him, along with his own personal spirit and purpose.