Did you know that television "journalist" actually once had a real job - working for President Nixon? Here's the transcript from an interview she did with him after she became a "reporter" and after he had resigned the presidency. It shows how liberals stab people in the back.

… Richard Nixon … had come out of the desert. He was

back in the arena again.

Like a force suddenly let loose, Nixon was a blur of activity the 

next several months.

In January, he put the finishing touches on his manuscript

and submitted it to his publisher.

In February, he flew to Jamaica for two weeks of

vacationing and conferences with the newly elected

conservative prime minister, Edward Seaga.

In March, he traveled again to Morocco for talks with

King Hassan.

In April, he granted a long interview to Time on his

current thoughts on the state of the presidency.

In May, he delivered a foreign policy address to a

Republican fundraiser in Orange County, California.

And there was more ahead. In the next year, he would

deliver seven major speeches, appear on eleven network

interview shows, attend seven GOP fundraisers, travel

to nine foreign countries (meeting the heads of state of

each), confer with the editorial boards of several major

publications, and, if he got around to it, perhaps grant

interviews to the 150 reporters with standing requests.

Such was his prominence that even hated Harvard

was asking him to come.

Confident was not the word for Richard Nixon’s mood.

He was ebullient, and, with the reception he had been getting

of late, there was cause for it. When he addressed the

party faithful in Orange County, denouncing proponents

of the nuclear freeze and warning that the next year was

going to be “tough politically,” he was introduced as

“truly one of our great Presidents” and a band played

“Hail to the Chief.” Afterward, the Republican

autograph-hunters, many of whom had paid $1000 a piece

to shake his hand, stood in queues thirty-deep. In

Morocco, where the king hosted one banquet in his

honor and the U.S. ambassador another, 75,000 people

gathered outside his Marrakech hotel on the chance

they might get a glimpse of him. When Nixon rewarded

them by wading into the crowd to shake hands and hold

up babies, a chant went up in Arabic, “You should

still be President.” Nixon responded by flinging out his

arms in his V-for-Victory campaign salute, and shouting

into the din, “Hasta luego!”

The only bit of unpleasantness in all of this came from

an unexpected source. In late May, as Nixon was setting

his plans for a three-week trip to Eastern Europe, Diane

Sawyer called, asking for an interview. Since leaving

San Clemente, Sawyer had become a television star for

CBS, first as the network’s State Department correspondent,

and later as co-host of the CBS Morning News. Throughout,

her relations with Nixon had remained friendly, and Nixon

agreed to the interview request. He coupled his

acceptance with an invitation to dinner.

At first, the session went well. Nixon was in a relaxed,

almost playful mood, gently poking fun at himself

(“My media critics consider that—that I’m rather the

one who probably was behind the barn door when the

brains were handed out.”), advising Teddy Kennedy to

lose twenty pounds  and “get some new ideas” (“I’m sure

he will; he’s a very practical man.”) and terming former

Vice President Walter Mondale (“Mondale, blah!) “just

a warmed-over Carter.” As for Reagan, Nixon had nothing

but praise.

“Now,” Nixon said, “if—if—if you ask whether he’s smart

in terms of IQ, in terms of whether or not he would be

accepted as a full professor at Harvard, the

probabl—the answer is, probably not and thank _____ we

don’t have a full professor at Harvard as President.”

His tone sharpened when Sawyer asked him about the

press. “Now let’s talk about the ladies in the press for a

moment,” Nixon replied. “We have to realize that men

reporters can be tough, but women reporters think they have

to be tougher; they’ve got to prove something. . . . A

delightful fellow, Manolo Sanchez, who worked for us

when we were in the White House years—walking by the

press quarters, he used to refer—he’d look in there, and

he says, ‘There you have the vultures and the witches.’ Now

[by] the vultures he referred to the men, [by] the witches

he referred to the women.” Nixon shrugged. “My views

are a bit old-fashioned, I must admit. . . . But . . . like the

little ditty from the song, ‘Why can’t a woman be like a

man?’ . . . I want women to be like women. I want men to be

like men.”

“Maybe . . . the press has a visceral reaction against me,”

he went on. “Maybe it was my manner, I don’t know.

But it was there, and, as far as I am concerned, it’s now

live and let live.” He smiled at Sawyer. “They

usually have underestimated me. And—but I’ve done

reasonably well, except for some unfortunate events which

we won’t go into at the moment.”

But it was precisely those events Sawyer did want to go into.

Noting that the tenth anniversary of the Watergate

break-in was approaching, she asked what it now meant to him.

“It happened a long time ago,” Nixon answered, eyes

narrowing. “I’ve said everything I—I can on the subject. I

have nothing to add, and I’m looking to the future rather than

the past. . . . I’ve always said this: ‘Remember Lot’s wife.

Never look back.’”

Sawyer continued to press. “But a lot of people say, and these

are common people, ordinary people, people in the street,

say that you never just said, ‘I covered up and I’m sorry.’”

“Well, that—is, of course, not true,” Nixon replied with

apparent agitation. “As a matter of fact, if you—if you go back

and look at the Frost broadcast, and if you read my memoirs,

I’ve covered all that in great, great detail. And I’ve said it

all, and I’m not going to say anything more in the future.”

Sawyer was not so easily put off. “Do you think about it when

you’re just sitting alone, when some—when it’s—you’re not working?”

“Never,” Nixon snapped. “No. If I were thinking about it,

I wouldn’t be able to—do I—what is some of the constructive

work I’ve been doing on my new book, and also preparing for

the travels I’m going to be doing. You see, I

understand—I—I—I—understand the obsession with this

subject. It’s understandable. But people who are obsessed

with it don’t understand me. I went through it, I know what went

wrong, I know that I have a responsibility, I’m not trying

to excuse myself. But I’m not going to spend my time just

looking back and wringing my hands about something I can’t

do anything about.”

The exchange grew increasingly hostile.

SAWYER: You don’t even sit sometimes and think to

yourself, once again, as everyone thinks you must, “Why didn’t

I burn those tapes?”

NIXON: I’ve covered that also, of course, in my — in my

memoirs, and I must say that if — I must get — I must get a oh,

a half a dozen letters a week even now. “Why didn’t you

burn those tapes?” And the answer is, of course, I should. It

should have been done. But the main part is, they should never

have been started.

SAWYER: You did say to David Frost, you said that

you made horrendous mistakes, ones not worthy of a President,

ones that did not meet the standard of excellence that you dreamed

of as a young boy. What was the worst one, the thing that

you’re most sorry about?

NIXON: Oh—oh—oh, the worst one—the—the—I’ve—covered

this in great detail, and I’m not going to go into it any further.

SAWYER: There’s no one thing that you had in mind when

you were saying that?

NIXON: Well, the—the—well—well, the—if—if—well, it—I

th—I’ve—I’ve covered it already, but its- -it perhaps is—on

reflection, the thing that was the greatest mistake was in

failing to concentrate on it the moment I got word on it.

SAWYER: What’s it like to be Richard Nixon, and go out and walk

into a room? Do you — what do you sense when you walk into a

room? Do you ever think, these people are looking at me because

I resigned, or that—you—

NIXON: No, I never look back. I never did look back. And

people are very friendly. You—you have to realize that people

who reach the highest levels in public life don’t become

obsessed with themselves, and thinking, “Oh, my ______, what are

people going to be thinking of me,” and all that sort of thing. If they do,

they’re never going to be great leaders.

SAWYER: You also said to David Frost, you said, “I let down my

friends, I let down the country, I let down an opportunity I had for

projects that would have built a lasting peace; and I let the

American people down, and I have to carry that burden with me the

rest of my life.” Does that burden get heavier or lighter?

NIXON: Now that says it all, right there, and, as far as I am

concerned, having said it then, I’m not going to say it again now.

SAWYER: Could I get some phrases again? John Mitchell.

NIXON: Well, I think I’ve covered enough now, so

we’ll—I—I think we’ll—

SAWYER: How about John Dean?

NIXON: No comment.

SAWYER: You won’t even say whether the burden, year by year,

gets heavier or lighter?

NIXON: No (pauses) I’ve—I’ve already pointed out that I’m not

looking back.

The camera switched off. Nixon smiled tightly at Sawyer and

rubbed his hands together, as he did when he was nervous.

“Well,” he said, “you got it?”

When Sawyer returned to her office, a message was awaiting her.

The dinner was canceled.

Source: Book, The Unquiet Oblivion of Richard Nixon.

Did you know that television "journalist" actually once had a real job - working for President Nixon? Here's the transcript from an interview she did with him after she became a "reporter" and after he had resigned the presidency. It shows how liberals stab people in the back.

… Richard Nixon … had come out of the desert. He was

back in the arena again.

Like a force suddenly let loose, Nixon was a blur of activity the 

next several months.

In January, he put the finishing touches on his manuscript

and submitted it to his publisher.

In February, he flew to Jamaica for two weeks of

vacationing and conferences with the newly elected

conservative prime minister, Edward Seaga.

In March, he traveled again to Morocco for talks with

King Hassan.

In April, he granted a long interview to Time on his

current thoughts on the state of the presidency.

In May, he delivered a foreign policy address to a

Republican fundraiser in Orange County, California.

And there was more ahead. In the next year, he would

deliver seven major speeches, appear on eleven network

interview shows, attend seven GOP fundraisers, travel

to nine foreign countries (meeting the heads of state of

each), confer with the editorial boards of several major

publications, and, if he got around to it, perhaps grant

interviews to the 150 reporters with standing requests.

Such was his prominence that even hated Harvard

was asking him to come.

Confident was not the word for Richard Nixon’s mood.

He was ebullient, and, with the reception he had been getting

of late, there was cause for it. When he addressed the

party faithful in Orange County, denouncing proponents

of the nuclear freeze and warning that the next year was

going to be “tough politically,” he was introduced as

“truly one of our great Presidents” and a band played

“Hail to the Chief.” Afterward, the Republican

autograph-hunters, many of whom had paid $1000 a piece

to shake his hand, stood in queues thirty-deep. In

Morocco, where the king hosted one banquet in his

honor and the U.S. ambassador another, 75,000 people

gathered outside his Marrakech hotel on the chance

they might get a glimpse of him. When Nixon rewarded

them by wading into the crowd to shake hands and hold

up babies, a chant went up in Arabic, “You should

still be President.” Nixon responded by flinging out his

arms in his V-for-Victory campaign salute, and shouting

into the din, “Hasta luego!”

The only bit of unpleasantness in all of this came from

an unexpected source. In late May, as Nixon was setting

his plans for a three-week trip to Eastern Europe, Diane

Sawyer called, asking for an interview. Since leaving

San Clemente, Sawyer had become a television star for

CBS, first as the network’s State Department correspondent,

and later as co-host of the CBS Morning News. Throughout,

her relations with Nixon had remained friendly, and Nixon

agreed to the interview request. He coupled his

acceptance with an invitation to dinner.

At first, the session went well. Nixon was in a relaxed,

almost playful mood, gently poking fun at himself

(“My media critics consider that—that I’m rather the

one who probably was behind the barn door when the

brains were handed out.”), advising Teddy Kennedy to

lose twenty pounds  and “get some new ideas” (“I’m sure

he will; he’s a very practical man.”) and terming former

Vice President Walter Mondale (“Mondale, blah!) “just

a warmed-over Carter.” As for Reagan, Nixon had nothing

but praise.

“Now,” Nixon said, “if—if—if you ask whether he’s smart

in terms of IQ, in terms of whether or not he would be

accepted as a full professor at Harvard, the

probabl—the answer is, probably not and thank _____ we

don’t have a full professor at Harvard as President.”

His tone sharpened when Sawyer asked him about the

press. “Now let’s talk about the ladies in the press for a

moment,” Nixon replied. “We have to realize that men

reporters can be tough, but women reporters think they have

to be tougher; they’ve got to prove something. . . . A

delightful fellow, Manolo Sanchez, who worked for us

when we were in the White House years—walking by the

press quarters, he used to refer—he’d look in there, and

he says, ‘There you have the vultures and the witches.’ Now

[by] the vultures he referred to the men, [by] the witches

he referred to the women.” Nixon shrugged. “My views

are a bit old-fashioned, I must admit. . . . But . . . like the

little ditty from the song, ‘Why can’t a woman be like a

man?’ . . . I want women to be like women. I want men to be

like men.”

“Maybe . . . the press has a visceral reaction against me,”

he went on. “Maybe it was my manner, I don’t know.

But it was there, and, as far as I am concerned, it’s now

live and let live.” He smiled at Sawyer. “They

usually have underestimated me. And—but I’ve done

reasonably well, except for some unfortunate events which

we won’t go into at the moment.”

But it was precisely those events Sawyer did want to go into.

Noting that the tenth anniversary of the Watergate

break-in was approaching, she asked what it now meant to him.

“It happened a long time ago,” Nixon answered, eyes

narrowing. “I’ve said everything I—I can on the subject. I

have nothing to add, and I’m looking to the future rather than

the past. . . . I’ve always said this: ‘Remember Lot’s wife.

Never look back.’”

Sawyer continued to press. “But a lot of people say, and these

are common people, ordinary people, people in the street,

say that you never just said, ‘I covered up and I’m sorry.’”

“Well, that—is, of course, not true,” Nixon replied with

apparent agitation. “As a matter of fact, if you—if you go back

and look at the Frost broadcast, and if you read my memoirs,

I’ve covered all that in great, great detail. And I’ve said it

all, and I’m not going to say anything more in the future.”

Sawyer was not so easily put off. “Do you think about it when

you’re just sitting alone, when some—when it’s—you’re not working?”

“Never,” Nixon snapped. “No. If I were thinking about it,

I wouldn’t be able to—do I—what is some of the constructive

work I’ve been doing on my new book, and also preparing for

the travels I’m going to be doing. You see, I

understand—I—I—I—understand the obsession with this

subject. It’s understandable. But people who are obsessed

with it don’t understand me. I went through it, I know what went

wrong, I know that I have a responsibility, I’m not trying

to excuse myself. But I’m not going to spend my time just

looking back and wringing my hands about something I can’t

do anything about.”

The exchange grew increasingly hostile.

SAWYER: You don’t even sit sometimes and think to

yourself, once again, as everyone thinks you must, “Why didn’t

I burn those tapes?”

NIXON: I’ve covered that also, of course, in my — in my

memoirs, and I must say that if — I must get — I must get a oh,

a half a dozen letters a week even now. “Why didn’t you

burn those tapes?” And the answer is, of course, I should. It

should have been done. But the main part is, they should never

have been started.

SAWYER: You did say to David Frost, you said that

you made horrendous mistakes, ones not worthy of a President,

ones that did not meet the standard of excellence that you dreamed

of as a young boy. What was the worst one, the thing that

you’re most sorry about?

NIXON: Oh—oh—oh, the worst one—the—the—I’ve—covered

this in great detail, and I’m not going to go into it any further.

SAWYER: There’s no one thing that you had in mind when

you were saying that?

NIXON: Well, the—the—well—well, the—if—if—well, it—I

th—I’ve—I’ve covered it already, but its- -it perhaps is—on

reflection, the thing that was the greatest mistake was in

failing to concentrate on it the moment I got word on it.

SAWYER: What’s it like to be Richard Nixon, and go out and walk

into a room? Do you — what do you sense when you walk into a

room? Do you ever think, these people are looking at me because

I resigned, or that—you—

NIXON: No, I never look back. I never did look back. And

people are very friendly. You—you have to realize that people

who reach the highest levels in public life don’t become

obsessed with themselves, and thinking, “Oh, my ______, what are

people going to be thinking of me,” and all that sort of thing. If they do,

they’re never going to be great leaders.

SAWYER: You also said to David Frost, you said, “I let down my

friends, I let down the country, I let down an opportunity I had for

projects that would have built a lasting peace; and I let the

American people down, and I have to carry that burden with me the

rest of my life.” Does that burden get heavier or lighter?

NIXON: Now that says it all, right there, and, as far as I am

concerned, having said it then, I’m not going to say it again now.

SAWYER: Could I get some phrases again? John Mitchell.

NIXON: Well, I think I’ve covered enough now, so

we’ll—I—I think we’ll—

SAWYER: How about John Dean?

NIXON: No comment.

SAWYER: You won’t even say whether the burden, year by year,

gets heavier or lighter?

NIXON: No (pauses) I’ve—I’ve already pointed out that I’m not

looking back.

The camera switched off. Nixon smiled tightly at Sawyer and

rubbed his hands together, as he did when he was nervous.

“Well,” he said, “you got it?”

When Sawyer returned to her office, a message was awaiting her.