The Nixon Defense: What He Knew and When He Knew It (29 page)

Haldeman told the president that, because of the death of his wife, Howard Hunt was moving for “a severance, or whatever the legal term is.” He considered this a positive development, because it would weaken the case against Liddy: “They can make a case on Hunt. They have a very tough time on the evidence making a case against Liddy, except by tying him to Hunt. If they separate the cases, and try them separately, Liddy’s case will collapse, which is very much to our interest, of course.” But Haldeman acknowledged that this did not solve the president’s problem of distancing himself from Watergate.

When Ehrlichman joined the conversation they soon returned to Watergate. Nixon said he felt he should say something sooner rather than later, but Ehrlichman counseled, “I don’t think there’s anything to add to what you’ve already said.” Then Haldeman ran out a prospective scenario on the Segretti matter as it related to Strachan and Chapin—“a second Dean investigation.” I had actually undertaken this investigation, and my key finding had been that it had nothing to do with Watergate, that Segretti was “pretty much an unguided missile,” as Ehrlichman described him. Ehrlichman did mention that I had found that some of Segretti’s activities may have been illegal, such as “sending out some flyers without identifying the source, but that’s a misdemeanor-type [offense.]” As the president continued to press on his need to make a statement, Ehrlichman said he did not think it was “as much
a question of not having anything to say, or whether or not something should be said, but it’s a question of when it should be said and by whom.” He added, “It obviously can help a lot if we draw the poison off the thing before you have to see the press, so Ziegler or somebody else, not Dean, in my opinion, because Dean has to keep it pure, but Ziegler or somebody can give the conclusions of what Dean said.” The president agreed, but there was no consensus of who should do it, or when, or whether it should be leaked. Clearly the president wanted to absolve himself and his staff and to document how his campaign had been subject to sabotage.

During an afternoon conversation in the Oval Office, Haldeman summarized a memorandum Pat Buchanan had sent the president explaining why it was unwise to say anything at the time about Watergate or Segretti.
¹⁵
He was certain that Watergate was going to come back into the news with the trial of the seven defendants the following month regardless of what the president said, and although it was “quiescent for the moment” on Segretti, its remaining so would depend on whether Teddy Kennedy pursued an investigation with his Senate subcommittee.

Woodward and Bernstein had a
Washington Post
story buried in the front section that caused some concern at the White House. It reported that a private telephone had been installed in the plumbers’ EOB offices in the name of their secretary, Kathleen Chenow; she was billed for the phone at her Alexandria, Virginia, apartment and in turn took the bills to John Ehrlichman’s office to be paid.
*
Woodward and Bernstein had interviewed Chenow for over an hour and learned that the telephone had been used exclusively by Howard Hunt, who received calls there from Bernard Barker. They reported that the telephone had been installed from August 1971 to March 15, 1972, well before the first Watergate entry on May 28. The
Post
also had more about Dorothy Hunt: an Associated Press wire-service story revealed that she had purchased a maximum flight insurance policy (either $200,000 or $250,000), while Woodward and Bernstein reported that Howard Hunt had given an interview about his wife’s plan to use the large amount of cash she was carrying to invest in a motel with other family members living in Chicago. They further reported that the FBI was investigating the source of the money although the Chicago police had reported that it was not associated with the money earlier found in Bernard Barker’s Miami bank account.
¹⁶

Late that afternoon the president met with Haldeman and Ehrlichman in his EOB office and told them in an agitated tone, “I had a handwritten note delivered to me through Rose’s office from Kleindienst today asking to talk with me about the FBI director before I made a decision on it.”
¹⁷
The president said he didn’t mind “these God dang end-runs,” but clearly he did. Kleindienst had had a mutual friend slip the note to Rose, fully aware that he was ignoring the standing protocol for all appointments with Nixon, for unless the president sought specifically to see someone, all such meetings for White House staff, cabinet members, outsiders and even the First Family went through Haldeman. While Haldeman pulled him up short for the breach, Nixon granted Kleindienst a meeting to make his case that Pat Gray should be selected, the president remained noncommittal.
¹⁸

On December 28, Joseph Kraft, one of the president’s least favorite syndicated columnists, wrote in the
Post
of “an extraordinary thing” taking place at the FBI, as middle-level agents were “frantically trying to signal to the outside world that their boss, Acting Director L. Patrick Gray III, is a rotten apple.”
¹⁹
In fact, J. Edgar Hoover’s bureaucracy, led by Mark Felt, was quietly working to undercut Gray, or any outsider, from taking charge, as they too had many secrets to hide, enabling Felt to enlist the assistance of others.
²⁰
As the president made clear to his staff and to Kleindienst, his only problem with appointing Gray was the almost certain bloodiness of the confirmation battle that would ensue, which would keep Watergate in the news for months—exactly what he did not want or need. Yet in the coming weeks and months, if a wrong decision could be made about how to deal with this still festering problem, Nixon managed to make it.

January to March 23, 1973

F
or months Richard Nixon had been frustrated that Watergate had not only been deflecting his attention from more serious matters of governance but tarnishing his presidency. He had particular difficulty understanding why his advisers had been unable to come up with a defense that insulated him and his presidency from Watergate’s potential damage, whatever it might turn out to be. In fact, as his new term commenced, the situation was far worse than he could begin to imagine. This was because he had remained largely uninformed of the facts, partly through his own design but also partly because of the reluctance of Haldeman, Ehrlichman and Mitchell to inform him of precisely what had gone on and how matters were or were not being addressed. Within thirty days of the beginning of his second term the president decided that he must take charge of his Watergate defense himself to protect his high office. However, it was already too late for such action, and he would instead proceed step by step to destroy his presidency.

Nixon spent the Christmas holiday with the First Lady at their home in Key Biscayne and returned to the White House on December 26, where he could better monitor the escalated bombing he had ordered of the Hanoi-Haiphong area in an effort to get the North Vietnamese back to the negotiating table in Paris.
¹
On December 27, at the president’s insistence, Bob Haldeman headed for California and a much needed vacation. John
Ehrlichman was with his family in Sun Valley, Idaho, for a skiing holiday. Because the president was at odds with his national security staff regarding the bombing strategy, he missed the solace he usually found in conversations with Haldeman, and so frequently telephoned or met with Chuck Colson as the new year began.

C
oncerned that Henry Kissinger might be undercutting his bombing policy in Vietnam with the news media, Nixon had embraced Colson’s idea of monitoring the call records of Kissinger’s staff, looking particularly for calls to
New York Times
columnists and the paper’s Washington bureau chief, Scotty Reston. Nixon told Colson during an Oval Office conversation that Kissinger was having a good time in California, adding that Henry needed constant praise and reassurance, because he had to feel he was “the indispensable man.”
¹
It was Kissinger’s deputy, Al Haig, who was a true soldier, Nixon noted; he managed to get the job done without hand-holding. When Colson reported that he had made no progress on monitoring Kissinger’s telephones, the conversation turned to a favorite theme of the president’s: how to punish his enemies and reward his friends during his second term. Nixon said he planned to issue instructions to members of his staff and cabinet to cut off all access to the
New York Times
and
The Washington Post
and give favorable treatment to the
Washington Star
, the
Chicago Sun-Times
, the
Detroit News
and “even the
Los Angeles Times.
” He requested an updated list of all contributors who had given one hundred thousand dollars or more to the campaign, as well as friendly editors, publishers, business and labor leaders and top law firms. To enforce discipline at the White House, the president announced, he planned to “fire a few asses around here,” just to make the point.

The president said he was pleased that Colson was going to have a couple of Jews as law partners at the firm he was joining in Washington, DC. “I don’t know if I will be able to live with them,” Colson confessed. “Oh, they’re
awful,” the president agreed. He added, “I hope you’re not putting blacks in there. Don’t go that far.” After discussing the president’s proposed Kitchen Cabinet, which would include Colson, and a discussion of the proposed Vietnam war settlement,
*
Nixon returned to his “political enemies.” He thought the success of the election had undermined them, though he was sure they would be after him again soon. “Now is the time to really, really clamp down, just not let them get up off the ground,” Nixon said, bringing his fist down on his desk to make the point.

“I really want to go after that
Post
,” Colson said, and explained that he hoped to tap into Mellon heir Richard Scaife’s money and boredom, not to mention his publishing holdings.
*
In the short term Colson planned to harass the parent company via its television broadcasting licenses and stockholder litigation. Once they had Colson’s man George Webster heading the IRS, the possibilities would be endless. Colson said nothing to the president about the letter he had received from Howard Hunt, dated December 31 and hand delivered to his office. Hunt wanted Colson to contact his attorney, Bill Bittman, who had been calling and trying unsuccessfully to arrange a meeting. Hunt had written: “My wife’s death, the imminent trial, my present mental depression, all contribute to a sense of abandonment by friends on whom I had in good faith relied.” He closed with an implicit threat: “There is a limit to the endurance of any man trapped in a hostile situation and mine was reached on December 8th”—the date of his wife’s death. Colson held the letter for a couple of days, and on January 2, as I was returning to Washington, he sent it to my office with a routing slip asking: “Now what the hell do I do?”
²

After spending the holidays in California, I flew back to Washington on January 2 with Haldeman in the president’s new Boeing 707, which was still being tested before becoming Air Force One. During the flight I mentioned to Haldeman that new problems had arisen with both James McCord and
Howard Hunt, and he, in turn, revealed that Jeb Magruder, through Larry Higby, was pressing him for a meeting. Did I know what it was about? I did not, but I told Haldeman that Magruder was very worried that he was going to have to repeat his perjurious testimony at the coming Watergate break-in trial. From our conversation, I was not at all certain that Haldeman would meet with Magruder.

As we neared Washington air space, Nixon was meeting again in the Oval Office with Colson, who was elaborating on the group he had assembled to attempt to wrest away The Washington Post Company’s Florida television station licenses.
³
While the odds were slim of winning them, Colson said, his group was willing to spend big money “to raise hell with the Post,” appreciating that it would cost the company a fortune to defend its licenses. This pleased the president. As this conversation continued, Nixon remarked that the only problem for his last campaign and now for his presidency was “the Watergate and Segretti business.” Nixon confided that “Haldeman slipped a bit” with Segretti’s operation, for he shouldn’t have had Chapin involved in it. “My point,” the president said, “is that’s too God damn close. You know what I mean? That kind of operation should be on the outside.”

The president was hopeful that Colson could attack the administration’s enemies effectively from outside the White House but advised that it should not be done from his law firm. Colson said he would have a small public relations group take on the task, which he had already discussed with Haldeman. This was fine with Nixon, and to reassure the president of his reliability, Colson added, “I did a hell of lot of things on the outside, and you never read about it. The things you read about were the things I didn’t do, Watergate and Segretti.” Nixon said he wanted somebody to carry out dirty deeds but complained that people like his new favorite, George Bush, would not do them: “Bush will never do it. He’ll do positive things, but that’s all.”

Colson then confided how he wanted Nixon to believe he operated: “The key to it, if I may say so, is to be damn sure that the things you do are done in such a way that they don’t bounce back. In other words, the Watergate, whoever finally approved that, and I don’t know who it was and I don’t want to know, was just plain stupid, Mr. President. I would never, if I had known about that, I would have fallen down in the doorway to block somebody from doing it, because inevitably you get caught. You can’t put five men into that God damn building without getting caught.” He continued, “Segretti, in a way, the same thing. The only way you can handle Segretti-type activities is
with somebody far removed from us who sets it up.” Nixon agreed that not only was Segretti too close to his staff, but having Kalmbach finance him was too close to him personally. To drive home the impression he wanted to give of the strength of his skills in this area, Colson said, “But you see, I did things out of Boston, we did some blackmail and—”

“My God,” the president interrupted, and Colson quickly explained, “I’ll go to my grave before I ever disclose it. But we did a hell of a lot of things and never got caught. Things that—” Colson stopped himself before he said too much.
*

Haldeman did in fact meet with Magruder the next morning and had their first conversation about Watergate since the arrests at the DNC. Magruder did not know precisely how much information Haldeman had, as he was unaware that Mitchell and I had kept both Haldeman and Ehrlichman fully informed about his testimony. However, only Haldeman and Ehrlichman knew the president had also been kept fully informed and that Magruder’s perjury had Nixon’s tacit approval. Magruder did not want Haldeman to forget that he had given perjured testimony not only to save himself but Mitchell as well from being charged for the Watergate break-in, and in the process he felt he had saved the president’s reelection. Now he was going to have to repeat that false testimony to protect the presidency.
⁴
Clearly, and understandably, he wanted some assurance from Haldeman that he would be taken care of if a problem arose.

When Haldeman arrived in the Oval Office later that morning, Watergate was discussed only briefly, when the president suggested that they might request Colson remain at the White House for a few additional months.
⁵
Haldeman, having just learned new information from Magruder about Colson, said he thought Colson should go. “I found out some things,” he told the president, without revealing his source. “Even though he’s going to be missed,” Haldeman warned, “there’s more to his involvement in some of the stuff than I realized.” Nixon was not happy to hear this, for he saw Colson as a direct link to himself. Haldeman explained that not only was Colson
aware of Watergate, but he had advocated it through Liddy and Magruder.
⁶
Nixon asked if Colson was aware of Haldeman’s knowledge, to which Haldeman responded that he did not think so, and then the president inquired if Colson was involved through Hunt.

“Yeah, through Hunt—and Liddy,” Haldeman added with emphasis. “And if Liddy decides to pull the cork, Colson could be in some real soup.” The reason, Haldeman explained, was that “Colson is in a position of having perjured himself. Colson and Mitchell have both perjured themselves under oath already.” “You mean Colson was aware of Watergate?” Nixon asked. Before Haldeman could answer, the president said, “That’s hard for me to believe.” Haldeman continued, “Not only was he aware of it, but he was pushing very hard for results from it, and it’s very specifically that and—” Nixon interrupted again, “Who was he pushing?” “Magruder and Liddy, and that’s why we got to be awful careful to take—” Haldeman stopped, backtracking to clarify, “Liddy we’re taking care of in one way,” he said, without mentioning money, and then picked up where he left off. “And we got to be very careful they’re taking care of Magruder the right way, in the other way.” The president seemed to understand the distinction and asked, “How do you think, how are you going to do that?”

“I don’t know. But I just . . .” Haldeman began, and was apparently about to say that he had just met with Magruder but checked his words. He had clearly decided not to reveal that conversation, possibly because he was uncertain how the president might react to his assurances to Magruder that he would be taken care of if he continued perjuring himself. Rather he told Nixon, “I’m going to make sure he has the feeling that he’s—” But Haldeman declined to finish this sentence, either. While not an attorney, he understood that what he was doing with Magruder was criminal, so he changed the subject. “John Dean’s been doing a superb job of just having, you know, getting all the facets together—”

But the president, well aware of Magruder’s earlier perjury, wanted to know more: “What does he need, a job of some sort, or what?” “Well,” Haldeman answered, “either a job or ample recognition, so he can go out into something outside. He doesn’t know what he wants to do. He doesn’t know what he should do. And this partly depends on how [it] bounces this year. But the main thing is, he’s got to feel in his own mind, in his own heart, that we’re on his side.” Nixon agreed, and, Haldeman further reported, without mentioning the president’s blessing, that he had, in fact, assured Magruder
he would support and assist him. The president asked, “He’s working on inauguration?” “Oh yes, he’s the director of the inaugural,” Haldeman assured him, “and he’s running that thing, so that gives him an ongoing base through the twentieth.”

The president returned to Colson. “Does Mitchell know that Colson was involved? Does Colson know that Mitchell was involved?” “I think the answer is yes to both of those,” Haldeman answered. “Although I’m sure Colson assumes that Mitchell is involved if he doesn’t know it directly as a fact, and I’m not positive that Mitchell knows that Colson was involved. See, Mitchell’s involvement was early, and then he backed out, and—”

The president was having trouble believing this information, apparently suspecting it was another instance of Haldeman’s occasional efforts to dilute Colson’s influence, while Haldeman’s account was in fact accurate. “I can see Mitchell doing it, but I can’t see Colson getting into the Democratic [Committee],” Nixon said, as they talked over each other. And then he asked, as he had before, “What the Christ was he looking for?”

“They were looking for stuff on two things. One on financial stuff, and the other on stuff that they thought they had on what they were going to do at Miami, to screw us up, which apparently was, ah—” and as Haldeman paused to gather his thoughts, Nixon injected, “Democratic plot,” to which Haldeman then added, “—that they thought they had uncovered.”
*
“Colson was salivating with glee at the thought of what he might be able to do with it,” Haldeman explained. “And the investigator types were reluctant to go in there; they were put under tremendous pressure [that] they had to get this stuff.” When the president replied with a skeptical, “Hmm,” Haldeman pulled back a little, saying, “None of this, I don’t know any of this firsthand. I can’t prove any of it. Really, I don’t want to know, because if I ever get involved in it, I want to be ignorant, which I am.” “But,” he continued, not only was Liddy a potential problem for Colson, but by implication Magruder and Mitchell might be problems for Colson as well. He further noted that “Hunt also knows. See, on Hunt’s side of it, he could really screw Colson, but apparently there’s no real danger of that.” Nixon remarked, “There doesn’t appear to be any great danger of Liddy [either].” Haldeman agreed, and he resumed, “And I think we’re okay on Magruder. The other one that’s a problem is Sloan, and he doesn’t know enough, apparently, to matter, although he suspects a lot.”

“What can we do to take care of him?” the president inquired. While giving no specifics, Haldeman indicated that they were already trying. After a pause to absorb this, Nixon asked, “What is Magruder going to do?” As Nixon was posing this, Haldeman was telling him again, “Give John Dean a lot of credit for being a damn effective operator on this one without bothering anybody with the details, just sort of living with it hour by hour—” Nixon, speaking sotto voce, agreed, “Very appreciative, we’ll remember, we’ll remember.” Haldeman then vaguely shared a concern I had mentioned on the flight back to Washington: I had unwittingly gotten myself on the wrong side of the law, though I was not certain if I was in trouble. “Now he’s got interest in it, he’s in it in a sense himself because of what he’s trying to do about it,” Haldeman explained.