Watergate '69, pg. 2

Life magazine, August 8, 1969
Photographed by Michael Rougier

[ pg. 2 ]

Emil Mosbacher Jr.
Formally dressed for a White House state dinner, the chief of protocol and his wife Patricia stand in the driveway of the Watergate Hotel where they rent a suite for $1,600 a month.

Anna Chennault
Chinese-born Mrs. Chennault, left, checks her place settings before a 13-course dinner she prepared herself. Right, the widow of General Claire Chennault greets her guests.

Nancy Lammerding
To Miss Lammerding, a White House press secretary, Watergate's main attractions are the swimming pools. Since she broke her wrist in a fall, however, she can't go near the water.

John Mitchell
The Attorney General and his wife Martha are shown in the dining room of their elegant $140,000 duplex. Mitchell things that the apartment is "convenient but that's about all."

Befitting its reputation as "White House West," Watergate decided to open its second apartment house (a third is under way) on Inauguration Day, 1969. Like its east wing counterpart, Watergate West looks rather like a ship with curved decks and rooftop smokestacks. In fact, Watergate East has even leaked a little. Both building facades are studded with crenelated panels reminding observers of dragon's teeth, milk bottles or bowling pins.

The interior of Watergate West's free-form superstructure includes a number of "luxury features." The lobby is resplendent with fake Chou Dynasty lamps and curtains handwoven in Swaziland. The elevators are flooded with Muzak, and the bathrooms are paved with marble and equipped with bidets and golden faucets. The 143 apartments vary as much in design as they do in price (from $28,000 for a one-bedroom to $186,000 for a penthouse). Many living and dining rooms are trapezoids or obtuse-angled triangles, while a few entranceways are circles.

Watergate has been gradually revealing its imperfections, however. Despite watchful doormen, security guards and 23 closed-circuit TV cameras, there have been several spectacular jewelry thefts. Low-flying jets are always censoring balcony conversations. Residents unused to apartment living feel dwarfed and entombed by the sterile and pervasive glass and concrete. And with the confluence of polluted Rock Creek and the polluted Potomac only a block away, on some hot summer evenings you can hardly smell the honeysuckle.

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