BY MICHAEL S. JOHNSON  |  JUN 20, 2026

I celebrated America’s Bicentennial of the Declaration of Independence−our formal separation from the British Empire−on the South Lawn of the White House, July 4, 1976.

I stood there waiting for the fireworks to begin, and looking up at the second-floor Truman Balcony I saw President Jerry Ford, in whose humble employ I was, First Lady Betty Ford, Vice President Nelson Rockefeller, and Second Lady Happy Rockefeller. They were waiting, too, along with other dignitaries. The figures on the Balcony were backlit but still recognizable in the faint yellow glow of twilight.

When the sky did finally come to life with loud booms and patriotic colors shooting out from the ground, there followed oohs and aahs, applause and cheers. There was even a laser projection from the Washington Monument.

For me it was an out-of-body journey into a place and time I thought I would never experience growing up in South Dakota. It was all surreal, accompanied by a burst of patriotism and appreciation for just being there, an eyewitness to history. In 1976, I was fresh out of the corn and bean fields of downstate Illinois, where I was the editor of a daily newspaper. Continue reading →