A Witness to History by Charles Frederic (Rick) Wilson III - via Zoom

Both of the men for who I am named grew up in the nation’s capital. My father, Charles Frederic Wilson, Jr. waited until my Mother was wheeled into the delivery room in San Francisco when he said, “We will name him CFW, III, but we will call him Rickey from Frederic.

My father’s father was Charles, Sr. Many of you have enjoyed his egg nog at our club’s holiday parties. As I may have mentioned, this was his one appearance in the kitchen in a year, Christmas eve, when he made his delicious egg nog.

My grandfather believed that a gentleman should write his memoirs at three score and ten, which translates to 70 years old. I have a copy. It is four pages, single space, type written and as Joe Friday said, “Just the facts”. There is no color and no nuance. Here is a guy that was Chief of Staff to Secretary of State, Philander Knox in the William Howard Taft administration, but he was not very good at relating stories.

My father’s attempt was no better. Charlie, Jr. was the class of ’39, joined the fight right after Pearl Harbor, spent five years in the South Pacific and was on the Missouri for the surrender. His effort was ten pages, hand-written on a legal pad and it was as dull as his father’s attempt.

I am up to 350 pages, computer written stories in my memoir, “Lies I’ve Told At Breakfast”, which I have been working on for ten years. In this program, I will share a handful of chapters in a story I think you might find interesting.

We will start with my opportunity to meet Chief Justice Earl Warren in his office at the Supreme Court, just across the street from the nation’s capitol. You probably have a picture of this lovely building. For some reason, it has been in the new