I found this story about Nixon on election day 1960 when he lost to Kennedy hilarious. Never had heard it. Never knew he spoke Spanish.
"If there ever was a sure bet for Election Day, after a campaign with so much contentious focus on the southern border, it’s that neither
Donald Trump nor
Kamala Harris will take a quick trip to Mexico for lunch Tuesday while their fellow Americans are voting. Why bring up such a far-fetched concept? Because of something that is all but lost to history—something deliriously unlikely that happened on Election Day 1960, as Sen. John F. Kennedy and Vice President Richard Nixon prepared to find out which of them would become president.
Nixon and his wife, Pat, cast their ballots at a polling place in East Whittier, Calif., with a large contingent of reporters and photographers present. A black sedan was waiting to take them back to their hotel in Los Angeles. But when Mrs. Nixon got into the car, Mr. Nixon didn’t join her. Instead, he hopped into a white convertible. Neither his staff nor the press had been informed this would happen. Nixon just wanted to cruise around. In the convertible with him were three other men: a lone Secret Service agent, an Air Force major assigned to the vice president’s office, and the driver, later identified as “Sgt. John DiBetta of the Los Angeles police bunco squad.” The convertible was able to evade reporters trying to follow Nixon. Without a motorcade, the car headed due south on the Pacific Coast Highway, stopping once for fuel in Oceanside, Calif. The gasoline station’s owner, Cliff Edwards, was understandably startled; he later said Nixon told him that he was “out for a little rest and relaxation.”
Freshly gassed up, the convertible continued south, and at some point Nixon decided he had a hankering for a bite of Mexican food—in Mexico. The convertible passed through the border checkpoint and then into Tijuana, where it stopped at a restaurant in the tourist district. Today, images of the jaunt would flash around the world instantly on social media. But in the pre-internet age, it remained a secret. The mayor of Tijuana, Xicoténcatl Leyva Alemán, was surprised to receive a call from the vice president, who invited him to lunch: “It was not a date. There was no prearrangement. . . . It was a very great honor.”
The mayor would recount later that Nixon dined on enchiladas, tacos, tamales and German beer. “We’re honored that on one of the most important days of his life, he took time to visit his neighbors across the border,” the mayor said. “I was especially pleased that he could converse with me in Spanish.” Nixon seemed enthusiastic about the food; he ordered seconds of tacos and refried beans. Then, with Americans back home still voting and having no idea where he was, Nixon, the Secret Service agent, the Air Force major and the bunco squad cop climbed back into the convertible. This time, Nixon was behind the wheel.
They motored north, stopping briefly in San Juan Capistrano, where a thirsty Nixon got a pineapple milkshake at a roadside stand. Then it was on to Los Angeles, where he arrived at the Ambassador Hotel shortly after 4 p.m. With his clandestine Mexican road trip now just a pleasant memory, he settled in to await the election results, which would be considerably less happy."