The Making of the Newest Nixon

OVER a period of months, the man has seemed somehow different at successive appearances, to be undergoing an almost imperceptible process of change. Observers thought that he looked a bit less jowly, more confident, more appealing. Last week, in his televised session with network correspondents, makeup could not conceal a puffiness under the eyes. His presence may never be exactly magisterial, but on the whole, Richard Nixon looks more, well, presidential than he ever has.

Part of the change may be in the eye of the beholder--the nation, after two years, has simply got used to Nixon as President. But there is more to it than mere acclimatization. For one thing, the President acquired a new barber six months ago. This artist, Milton Pitts, 54, who calls himself "Washington's leading men's hair stylist," strives to give the presidential head "the natural sculptured look." He has gradually lowered Nixon's sideburns about half an inch and his neckline by an inch --not exactly an Abbie Hoffman do but slightly less military than before. Pitts has also got Nixon away from the greasy kid stuff he was using. "His hair was curly at the edges," Pitts explains.

"It used to stick out in back. If you put oil on curly hair, it doesn't lie natural." By Pitts' analysis, Nixon had been getting entirely the wrong cut: "He has a full face. The hair used to be cut too thin on the sides and be too full just above the ear. Now, with a balanced sculpture cut, he has a more oval look."

Nixon has changed his tailoring too, and just as subtly. Anthony T. Rossi, sales manager of the President's favorite tailoring firm, H. Freeman & Son of Philadelphia, has persuaded the President to wear his somber blue and gray corporate suits with a slightly ( 5/8 in.) wider lapel. Before his European trip last fall, the President bought four new suits (average price: $275). Nixon was even gently talked into a couple of reticently modish double-breasted suits, the first he has worn since his congressional days. "He's a person who doesn't like to be told what to wear, no matter what the fashions are," says Rossi. "We'll say, They're wearing 4-in. lapels,' and he'll say he doesn't want them quite that wide but 'I would like them a little wider.' He'll compromise." To go with the new suits, Nixon has taken to slightly wider, 3-in. ties, which he generally buys from F.R. Tripler or A. Sulka in Manhattan.

As his physical checkup last month indicated, Nixon is remarkably fit, his blood pressure excellent. Although he takes a full dinner, he eats sparingly at breakfast and lunch. His weight is an optimum 170 Ibs., down 2 Ibs. in the past year. Nixon usually gets to bed by 11:30 or midnight, rises about 7 a.m. He shaves himself with a safety razor in the morning, handles the old beard problem with a quick runover by electric razor in the afternoon. If he is to appear in public or on television in the evening, he shaves again with a safety razor.

Like many Presidents, Nixon likes to get out of Washington as often as possible, especially to Key Biscayne or San Clemente, where he restores his tan (he does not use a sun lamp) and enjoys saltwater swimming. His other exercise, in Washington or elsewhere, is most often walking, and he fits in a very occasional game of golf or bowling.

Last weekend as he celebrated his 58th birthday in San Clemente, Nixon recalled: "The first real vacation I had was when I was 38, and I feel as good today as I did then." He often brings color to his cheeks by running in place 200 times before a press conference --an exercise he performed for his TV conversation last week. "The things I do for recreation," he says, "relate to the presidency."

Nixon's love of his work may account as much as anything else for his appearance of wellbeing. "He doesn't look upon it as a burden," says one White House insider. "He's very content with what he's doing, despite the pressures." If Nixon is looking a bit better now than he did when he took office, he offers at least partial refutation of the myth that the presidency is a man-killing job. As Lyndon Johnson used to observe, the presidency, despite all its responsibilities, also means that the man need never wait in line at airports, get snarled in traffic or suffer the thousand other minor outrages that age mortals who are less cosseted and curried.

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