Our 39th President, James Earl Carter, was a frequent visitor to Coastal Georgia in his newly minted post Presidency in 1981. His preferred place to stay was Musgrove Plantation on St. Simons Island. He actually had his first Pre-Inaugural Cabinet meeting there in 1976.

I had the chance to visit as well. One night occasion found me at one of the lively pubs on the Island with a bunch of friendly people that included the son of the guy who owned Musgrove Plantation. He was a tall dark haired guy with glasses who looked a lot like my classmate Gene Biggs from high school. This group leader announced that he was having an after pub party at his place and we were all welcome at the cottage there.

The gathering was to mark his last night before he went back to college. When I arrived, there was a big collection of people in the kitchen. This place didn’t seem like a cottage in the sense of the word that I was accustomed to. It was a mansion of great square footage with nice furnishings.

 Gene asked me what I wanted to drink and I replied a scotch would be great. He pulled a handle on a pocket door to reveal a hidden liquor cabinet of prodigious proportions containing every bar call brand there was. He handed me a half gallon of Chivas Regal and I clinked his glass with the jug. One of the girls planted a Georgia Bulldogs cap on my head.

As the night progressed, I conversed with lots of fun and interesting people. Gene came up to me and said that I didn’t have to drive and if I was tired, I could just go upstairs and pick a room to sleep.

People were beginning to nod out and drop on chairs and couches and soon there was nobody left to talk to. I made my way to the second level and looked down a long hallway to see a series of doors. An open one presented itself and I peered in to make sure it was unoccupied. Inside the suite sized accommodation was a prominent canopy bed in maid perfection. I plopped down on the comfy mattress and fell asleep quickly.

Morning came and a ray of sunshine beamed through the window and reflected on something shiny above the headboard and beamed to the wall across the room. I sat up and focused my bleary eyes on a rectangular gold plaque that said “Jimmy Carter Slept Here.” Well ok then, that’s neat, I thought. It wasn’t the Lincoln Bedroom at The Whitehouse, but it was a brush with Presidential celebrity.

I made my way downstairs and passed a uniformed Chauffeur at the bottom of the staircase, presumably there to pick up my generous college friend, on my way out.

My second degree of contact with President Carter involved 101-Q. I had made a commercial for an ice cream I’d never heard of. I looked at the copy and assumed it was pronounced Haygan Days. Soon after the spot aired, Dick took a call from President Carter himself. He wanted to get the address of where he and First Daughter Amy could get that delicious new ice cream Haygan Days. Dick put the President on hold and asked me about the ice cream shop address. Weeks later, someone told me that it wasn’t Haygan Days, but the proper pronunciation was “hoggin doss.” Oh, that’s how you say it. Häagen-Dazs. I wonder if the President got it right too. It was another successful ad campaign.