This January 20th marks what would have been the 104th birthday of the late, great Pardo Frederick DelliQuadri, AKA my maternal grandfather, AKA my beloved Grandpa Fred.
Grandpa Fred was a major force in my young life, and I've written about him here a few times before — both about his contributions to my interest in baseball, and his heartfelt work on behalf of children around the world — and our misadventure following the Dodgers-Braves game we attended in the summer of 1978 inspired my keynote address at last year's Baseball Reliquary Shrine of the Eternals induction ceremony.
I always think a lot about him around this time of year. And the other night, while combing the Internet for some photos from his time in Washington, D.C., I struck serious gold — actual film footage from June 21, 1968 of him being sworn in at the White House as Chief of the Children's Bureau of the Department of Health, Education and Welfare. (The full clip is embedded below at the end of this post.)
I had absolutely no idea that this clip existed, but it popped up in the collection of the LBJ Library on a roll of film outtakes from the summer of 1968. President Johnson indeed makes an appearance, saying a few remarks — sadly, the clip doesn't have any audio — before Supreme Court Justice Byron "Whizzer" White performs the swearing-in ceremony with my grandfather. Then my grandfather guides LBJ over to meet some of his family members, including my mother (who is totally killing it in a Marimekko print dress, though I know she now regrets her choice of hat), his wife (my Grandma Velma), and some of his brothers and sisters, who have traveled all the way from their home of Pueblo, Colorado to be there for the event.
It's such a treat for me to watch my grandfather — who's been gone for nearly 30 years now — in this clip. That shy-but-warm smile, that glint of mischievous humor in his eye, that palpable sense of being completely comfortable in his own skin in any situation, even at a White House ceremony presided over by LBJ... that's absolutely the Grandpa Fred I knew.
There's more to this story, though, and now seems like the perfect time to tell it. I was two years old at the time of this ceremony, and I was supposed to be present for it. In fact, my parents dressed me up for the occasion in what my mother tells me was a very sharp yellow plaid suit — both because they wanted me to look nice, and because there was a plan afoot for me to do a photo op with LBJ.
By 1968, public sentiment over the U.S. military presence in Vietnam had begun to turn, and the chant "Hey Hey LBJ/How many kids did you kill today" had become a favorite at peace marches everywhere. Aware that my grandfather had asked for me to be allowed to attend his swearing-in ceremony, someone at the White House concocted the idea of putting me and LBJ together for a photo — this was for the Children's Bureau, after all, and wouldn't it be good for the President's image to have a pic of him cuddling a cute little kid?My father, who was very much against the Vietnam War, tells me now that he had serious misgivings about the whole thing. But rather than make any waves, he went along with the plan, carrying me into the White House with him. But as it turned out, I made some waves of my own...
I was, let us say, a rather odd child, and one of my biggest quirks around Age 2 was that I'd developed an absolute and all-consuming horror of painted portraits. My parents will both attest to this: If we went over to any of their friends' houses for a visit, they would have to ask them in advance to remove any portraits they might have hanging on their walls; otherwise, I would have a major meltdown as soon as I saw them. Of course, the White House is filled with large, painted portraits of Presidents and other historical figures, and of course no one thought to ask them to take those down before we arrived...
You can pretty much guess what happened next. I don't recall the specific portrait that set me off, but I was screaming hysterically within seconds of entering the Cabinet Room. President Johnson himself apparently tried to calm me down, but I simply wasn't having it. Finally, my dad (with a couple of Secret Service agents in tow) had to take me out into the hallway so that my grandfather's ceremony could proceed undisturbed by my shrieks of terror.
Until the day he died, Grandpa Fred never let me forget about what a scene I made on his big day. Not that he was particularly disappointed by it; in fact, he thought it was kind of hilarious. "Hey Dan," he would chuckle, "Remember the time you cried in Johnson's face?"
I love you, Gramps. It's so nice to see you again.