Scenes from a Tragic Life

Maxine Cheshire with John Greenya, Maxine Cheshire: Reporter. "Copyright 1978 by M & M, Inc., and John Greenya. Reprinted by permission of Houghton Mifflin Company. All rights reserved."

Rosen quotes from Cheshire's recollections of Martha Mitchell:

Martha's drinking problem, now [1978?] well known, should have been publicly disclosed a lot earlier than it was. One Post reporter covered a small dinner party--one of the first the Mitchells attended when they came to town--where Martha became so drunk that she passed out and fell face down in the soup bowl. John Mitchell almost let her drown before he pulled her up. The reporter, a Republican, was outraged when a Post editor would not allow the incident to appear in her story the next day...

One time, my knock [on the front door to the Mitchells' apartment, located in the Watergate complex] was answered by the black chauffeur-bodyguard, and standing behind him was Martha, with an almost empty glass in her hand. Though it was early afternoon, she was obviously very drunk. I asked her a question, and she started to tell me that she was leaving Washington. Then she handed the glass to the chauffeur, and, placing her hand on her behind, she began a little dance, singing something about 'Goodbye to Washing- ton,' wiggling with her fingers as she waved her posterior. At that, the chauffeur closed the door in my face...

I returned a few days later, again in mid-afternoon, and this time my knock was answered by a large black woman in a white uniform, who appeared to be a nurse. As I stood in the hall, eleven-year-old Marty came down the apartment's stairs. She was in pajamas and looked as if she had not been outside in the sun for months. As the woman turned toward the child, I heard the clink of metal and noticed a large key ring attached to her belt. "I want to go in my mommy's room," said Marty. "Would you open the door so I can see my mommy?" The woman shook her head. "I've told you over and over. You can't see your mother until she wakes up."
Again the door was shut in my face, but not before I saw the look of anguish on the child's face. The curtains were tightly drawn, and the interior of the apartment was in deep shadows. Whether the nurse had locked Martha in her bedroom or Martha had locked herself in, I did not know. But I later learned that one of the main items of regular "housekeeping" in the apartment was to repair or replace Martha's bedroom door. She would often lock herself in, and when threats were ineffectual, John Mitchell instructed the chauffeur to kick the door down. I didn't like to dwell on what this was doing to Marty.

...

Martha Mitchell died on 31st May 1976 at Sloan-Kettering in Manhattan. She was 57 years old.