The Family Jewels (4 page)

Some CIA veterans believe the real mistake lay in creating The Family Jewels in the first place, that without this
compendium of nefarious misdeeds, there would have been no controversy and the spy life could have gone on as usual. This was an illusion. The improprieties hung like a sword of Damocles. The only question was how long it would take for the weight of what had been so secret so long to reach the point where the sword's edge cut the restraining ropes of CIA secrecy. The underlying abuses, not the flap potential of the document, controlled the outcome.

The original Hersh story mentioned suspicions that much shredding of documents had occurred at CIA when Schlesinger demanded The Family Jewels be assembled. That may or may not be true, but certainly the Jewels collection amounted to less than the sum of its parts. Moreover, in writing his stories Hersh did not actually have access to The Family Jewels. He worked from tips and the accounts of officials he confronted with information gleaned elsewhere. Only in the last days did the agency confirm the document existed. In short, excesses had reached the point where bits of the story were popping out of troubled employees in many places. It only required a good investigator to put the pieces together—and that Sy Hersh did very well.

The simple revelation of The Family Jewels led to a full year of investigations of the Central Intelligence Agency and the entire U.S. intelligence community—the “Year of Intelligence,” as 1975 has become known. This story involves some individuals very well known today—Richard Cheney, Donald Rumsfeld, and Henry Kissinger—and it shows that the machinations during George W. Bush's administration were the work of persons with long practice.

Foremost among them was the man who would reach the pinnacle of his career as vice president of the United States. During President Gerald Ford's time, it was Richard Cheney who served as deputy chief of staff in the White House, his boss being Donald Rumsfeld. That weekend in 1974 President Ford was headed for a ski vacation in Vail, Colorado.
Rumsfeld went with him. Ford intended to set time aside only to meet economic advisors for ideas on his upcoming state of the union address. Cheney held the fort at the White House when the alert came of the impending
New York Times
revelations. Staff were left to craft a response to the CIA flap in Ford's absence. Their solution was for the president to create a commission to conduct a limited review of aspects of the charges. Gerald Ford agreed—and selected his vice president, Nelson A. Rockefeller, to lead it. The presidential commission ultimately failed to head off separate investigations by both houses of Congress.

Richard Cheney—who has always styled himself “Dick” in a bid for informality—played the central role in contriving the White House strategy to meet the crisis. Cheney initially sought to clamp down a lid of secrecy, protecting President Ford by heading off any congressional inquiries into the abuse revelations and ensuring that only approved information should emerge, and that under controlled conditions. He was not successful. There would be investigations by not one but two congressional committees in addition to that of the Rockefeller Commission. Cheney is oddly circumspect on this period in his memoir. He simply writes that “Jack Marsh kept me apprised of the Rockefeller Commission's progress and the work of the two committees on the Hill.”
¹
This threadbare passage conceals Dick Cheney's central role in the entire Ford strategy. While presidential counselor John O. Marsh did indeed watch the investigations closely, a host of aides were involved, and Dick Cheney stood at the tip of the spear. More than that, the deceptive language stops short of recounting that it was Dick Cheney who concocted President Ford's strategy in the first place.

The story begins with Bill Colby, who certainly awaited the Hersh articles with trepidation. Colby did not simply sit mum. The day before the
Times
began to run its revelations, Colby saw Acting Attorney General Lawrence H. Silberman
and agreed to refer to the Justice Department any allegations deemed worthy of investigation. Colby also phoned the White House and warned deputy national security advisor Brent Scowcroft of the imminent appearance of the disclosures. Scowcroft's boss, Henry Kissinger, contends the news had the effect of a “burning match in a gasoline depot.”
²
He also claims the White House was blindsided by the story, that Colby never told the NSC staff he had had an interview with Hersh, and that the first inkling President Gerald R. Ford had of the breaking news came with the initial article, when the CIA director phoned the president aboard Air Force One.
³
Kissinger may be right that Colby did not tell the White House of his interview with Hersh—but it was hardly a standard practice for CIA to report every journalistic contact to the White House, and in any case, Colby's aim in meeting with Hersh had still been to somehow head off the stories. When Colby phoned Air Force One, he knew they were coming. Ford was en route to Vail.

Whatever the state of play, on the first day the White House did nothing. Don Rumsfeld phoned the NSC offices looking for Kissinger or Scowcroft but could not reach either. In his own memoir, incidentally, Rumsfeld passes over this entire affair. His Ford White House story jumps from putting his stamp on the staff to the days of the 1976 presidential campaign. But the CIA flap, in between, mushroomed into a full-blown political crisis. The second morning, in Hersh's follow-up story, he began to discuss Central Intelligence Agency officials involved with some of the domestic spy programs, particularly Richard Helms and James Angleton. This time Kissinger was out of the starting gate immediately, calling Rumsfeld about “the Helms matter.” Insisting he knew nothing and that no such activities had been reported, Kissinger demanded that Director Colby provide an immediate recitation of the facts. Ford's press secretary could then fairly say the president had asked for a report and leave it at
that. Five minutes later Kissinger spoke to Colby. The CIA chief agreed to submit a review, said the White House could have it by the next day—possible only due to the existence of the Family Jewels documents—and gave Kissinger a brief description of the projects at issue.

Bill Colby himself raised the possibility of an outside panel, commenting that the president “would be well advised to put some independent investigator on it after he looks at what I tell him to assure him that what I am telling him is right.”
⁴
Late that night a cable from Vail arrived at the White House Situation Room. It contained President Ford's instructions, relayed by chief of staff Rumsfeld. The CIA was to address the matter in writing within forty-eight hours. Mr. Ford considered turning the Colby Report, as this document became known, over to the President's Foreign Intelligence Advisory Board for an opinion. Rumsfeld's cable also introduced a new character: he asked that materials about to be sent to the president be shown first to his own deputy, Richard Cheney.
⁵
Rumsfeld's cable made Cheney Ford's point man on the affair.

Meanwhile, Dr. Kissinger had already begun to spin the CIA story. After his phone conversation with Colby, the good doctor, in his White House capacity as national security advisor to Ford (Kissinger also served as secretary of state), prepared a memorandum for Rumsfeld on public handling of the allegations. Here Kissinger went back on his advice that press secretary Ron Nessen comment, now recommending that no statement be issued. Nessen should confine himself to answering questions. Kissinger supplied a list of anticipated queries and suggested replies.
⁶
Privately, Kissinger had another phone conversation, that same morning, with television journalist Ted Koppel. Kissinger insisted—he said it twice, and added that this was “to my almost certain knowledge”—the CIA had only dealt with “the degree to which foreign countries were infiltrating foreign student movements.”
Seconds later Kissinger added, “I am so sick of these things. They have been in the newspapers thousands of times.”
⁷
To the contrary, the reason the Hersh articles proved so explosive was precisely
because
they documented charges—of CIA infiltration of American political groups—that the government had long denied. In 1967 there had been a previous wave of public concern when it emerged that the CIA had funded an American private group, the National Student Association, and the Johnson administration had issued assurances that domestic spy activities were prohibited. The new disclosures showed not only that domestic spying had continued, but that CIA operations were much broader and more intrusive than anyone imagined.

In his conversations with reporters on Christmas Eve, Henry Kissinger repeatedly took the position that his role was merely to collect a report from the CIA and forward it to President Ford. He told journalist Marvin Kalb there would be some sort of investigation. “We want something that brings out the facts,” Kissinger said. “What the mechanism is, we've not decided.”
⁸
To Barry Schweid, Henry maintained he had not read the Colby Report carefully.
⁹
Not true, of course. Colby's paper arrived at the White House the same day as these conversations. By the next morning Kissinger had written a five-page distillation, sent to Vail by courier along with Colby's brief. The Kissinger summary is striking as much for what it
does not
say as for what it does: his précis works hard to place as many CIA excesses as possible in the Johnson presidency, often citing the Nixon years in the context of reining in runaway programs. There is no mention at all of the Huston Plan (see
Chapter 3
). That project's product, an interagency intelligence committee coordinated by White House counsel John Dean, is given the same context Kissinger used in his telephone conversations—foreign links with foreign dissidents. Telephone taps, physical surveillance of journalists and others, and a series of additional
excesses during the Nixon years are preemptively consigned to a category of items that Kissinger maintained were “erroneously” connected to CIA domestic activity. Kissinger carefully attributed this to Colby's report, not his own judgment. The memo also says something
absent from
the Colby Report: that among the 9,944 files the CIA had compiled on Americans, it had opened 14 on members of the United States Congress.
¹⁰

Meanwhile, Colby had also informed Representative Lucien Nedzi, who already knew of the Family Jewels. Nedzi played down the CIA abuses when first asked, telling
Newsweek
magazine, “You might call it illegalities in terms of exceeding their charter, but it certainly wasn't of the dimension . . . of what has appeared in the newspapers.”
¹¹
Nedzi proved dead wrong.

Even as the Ford administration gathered its facts, the political flames the Hersh revelations had ignited burned hotter. More disclosures from Sy Hersh and others filled the media. CIA abuse became an issue on which politicians staked out positions. On Christmas Eve, as Kissinger read the Colby Report, Illinois congressman Paul Findley sent a letter to President Ford recommending that he appoint an independent special prosecutor to look into the CIA question, much like the Watergate prosecutor (or, later, the one who investigated the Lewinski affair during Bill Clinton's administration). Findley's voice was only one among a growing chorus. The Ford White House paid attention. On December 24 political advisor John O. Marsh sent President Ford his own memo advocating a blue ribbon panel to examine the complaints and recommend safeguards. A simple referral to the Foreign Intelligence Advisory Board would be inadequate to still these troubled waters.

The day after Christmas, when President Ford received the Colby Report, couriered to Vail, the CIA scandal became a political headache at the highest level. The blue ribbon
commission idea was already being bruited about, not just by Marsh but also Dick Cheney, and he had a commentary ready that very day. Cheney's memo already mentioned the possibility a commission might forestall “less desirable” congressional inquiries. Staff were not sure of the scope to be given such an investigation—Kissinger argued forcefully that any inquiry be limited to what the press had already mentioned. Possible members were discussed, including whether to select some from Congress. Cheney's handwritten notes are replete with lists of potential members and pros and cons of each. Whatever the choice, staff foresaw, action must be taken promptly.

Dick Cheney went further. The White House deputy chief of staff spent a few days looking at the Colby Report, the flow of paper, and the Hersh stories. He pulled his thoughts together in a December 27 note that remains one of the most significant—and completely ignored—artifacts of the Year of Intelligence.
¹²
Cheney's note reveals an acute instinct for the jugular, one fully developed at that time. He shows the White House was aware of vulnerabilities inherent in the CIA scandal beyond those Kissinger had identified: Cheney clearly referred to the Huston Plan, he connects Huston's Nixon White House project with Helms of the CIA, and he adds the notation “Helms, et. al.—possible perjury.” And Cheney argues that any congressional investigation would take place in the context of Watergate and the Ellsberg case, plus knowledge of Richard Nixon's White House tapes.

Mr. Cheney laid out four goals for the president. The first was simply to examine the charges. The second was key: “Ensure proper presidential posture; avoid being tarnished by controversy.” After that came the installation of safeguards on intelligence. Finally, Cheney wanted to insulate the CIA from anything that could inhibit its ability to operate.

There were several ways to get there. Cheney's first option was simply to accept the Colby Report as accurate, but he
doubted “Congress & the Nation will accept such a report as valid and consider the matter closed.” That course practically guaranteed congressional investigation. The second possibility was to remain neutral—a “do nothing” stance that would also ensure congressional inquiry. Cheney's third option was to “
Take Action
by having the executive branch take the lead in the investigation and by accepting the responsibility for making certain the CIA is adhering to its charter.” Cheney envisioned public release of all or part of the Colby Report, a Justice Department role in prosecuting any real abuses, and a “special group or commission” to do the uncovering. Mr. Cheney's logic clearly favored the third option, and he says so. That course was preferable because it enabled President Ford to avoid defending Colby's report; it could minimize supposedly unwarranted or irresponsible attacks on the CIA; it would demonstrate presidential leadership; and it “offers the best opportunity for convincing the nation that gov't does indeed have integrity.” Dick Cheney presented one more reason for his preferred option, one that will be familiar to observers of the later Cheney in the Iran-Contra affair, as secretary of defense, and as vice president: “It offers the best prospect for heading off Congressional efforts to further encroach on the executive branch.” After the 9/11 attacks, staying in character, Richard Cheney would oppose congressional hearings on intelligence failures leading up to the day of the tragedy, and he would resist requests that he, along with President George W. Bush, should appear before the bipartisan national commission established to explore all aspects of this disaster.