The Nixon Defense: What He Knew and When He Knew It (89 page)

By midafternoon, when Nixon met in the Oval Office with Haig and Buzhardt, there had been a reassessment of the documents I had placed in a safe-deposit box.
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Buzhardt had a rather dire analysis, explaining that the study document had called for a number of blatantly illegal actions, ranging from the unlawful probing of the mail of Americans to electronic surveillance to surreptitious entries, tactics that J. Edgar Hoover had also objected to as being illegal, but Hoover had been overruled “in language that will be [viewed as] quite inflammatory.” Most important, the material included a memorandum from Haldeman stating that the “recommendations” for all these illegal undertakings had been “approved by the president on all counts,” although Hoover soon managed to get this new policy canceled. Buzhardt explained, “Now I think, frankly, that this will be used by the [Senate Watergate] committee, really, to supersede the whole Watergate thing.” In short, it was worse than Watergate.

Nixon, rather stunned, listened with only an occasional monosyllablic
“yeah” as comment while Buzhardt continued with a recommendation: “I would suggest it be handled in a much different fashion” than Watergate. “I think you can’t let this dribble out.” “No,” Nixon said. “It’s my own belief that you have to make your case for doing it.” Buzhardt did not report it, but he had surely noticed that much of the core study document set forth rationalizations and justifications for such radical and illegal activity by the government by overstating the problems confronting it, suggesting that the country was on the verge of collapse because of the disruptive antiwar demonstrations that had become commonplace in response to the ongoing conflict in Vietnam. Buzhardt continued, “Think of the environment this was done in. You have to lay it on the record, and there are a number of ways you could do it, with something approaching a state paper, perhaps with a summary by you.” He was in effect suggesting a white paper, a formal statement issued by the White House that would preempt the information being used against the president.

Buzhardt had not been privy to the earlier discussions of a preemptive white paper on the Ellsberg break-in, but as they talked, the ideas merged, and the president noted that they could include the Walters memcons with those activities. Nixon was not certain, however, whether it was better to put all this illegal surveillance “into a massive thing” or to “keep it a little bit more confused.” Added to this thinking was Buzhardt’s further conclusion that these new documents from my safe-deposit box “may precipitate action by the House.” Because he was referring to impeachment, he felt they must “make your case in the strongest possible terms. Give everybody all the ammunition you can to help you, and then let’s go fight it. Just take them on and fight this thing head-on.” No decision was made, but because the president had long been looking for a way to preempt my testimony, he gave the idea serious consideration, as they did more fact-finding, including on the events surrounding the June 23, 1972, meeting of Haldeman and Ehrlichman with Helms and Walters.
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On Thursday, May 17, the president began the day confronted with a banner headline on the front page of
The Washington Post
: Vast GOP Undercover Operation Originated 1969: W
ATERGATE
W
AS
P
ART OF
E
LABORATE
U
NDERCOVER
C
AMPAIGN
, with an accompanying lengthy article by Woodward
and Bernstein, which they had been working on for weeks.
⁴¹
The
Post
’s accusations were somewhat vague, but one new charge caught Ziegler’s attention, which he raised with Nixon when they met that morning with Haig and Buzhardt: the fact that John Ehrlichman had obtained the medical records of McGovern’s vice presidential running mate, Thomas Eagleton, two weeks before the story broke that he had had electric shock treatments for nervous exhaustion in 1960, 1964 and 1966, news that had resulted in his leaving the ticket.
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Ziegler, Haig and Buzhardt were worried that the medical records had been the result of another break-in, which they had been told had occurred in “a letter that came in two days ago,” from a doctor whom Haig did not identify. Nixon dismissed it as paranoia but ordered Haig to get the facts. (Haig later talked to Haldeman, who knew nothing about the Eagleton information, and Ehrlichman, who was “upset” by the story, claiming he could not “conceive of where it came from.”
⁴³
)

Ziegler had watched a bit of the first day’s televised Senate Watergate committee hearing and reported, “I’ll tell you, it is going to be a farce.” “Why?” Nixon asked. “Sam Ervin is just a pompous, fat ass,” Ziegler replied. They discussed the continuing bad news on Walters testifying before the Armed Forces committee about his memcons and the information in the documents from my safe-deposit box, which Nixon had started calling “the Dean papers.”
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What troubled him about these documents was that they revealed him as authorizing illegal activity. “The bad thing is that the president approved burglaries as a tactic. That’s tough,” he explained, and they discussed how it could be justified. With all this activity converging, Nixon observed, “the country’s looking at Watergate in the context, sort of as a repressive fascist” undertaking. Haig did not disagree.

By that afternoon Nixon had further warmed to the notion of a preemptive white paper, explaining to Ziegler, following an EOB office meeting with Buzhardt, “We’ll step out there and start putting this all out. What do you think?”
⁴⁵
Although Ziegler had embraced such thinking earlier, he had grown more cautious, and suggested that a statement might be better than a speech, for there had been consideration by the staff of the president addressing the nation; this was also Buzhardt’s opinion, with which Nixon himself ultimately agreed. “Shit, I can’t just speak unnecessarily every God damn week.” When the president called him shortly before five o’clock Buzhardt reported that he was busy gathering the facts for a white paper, talking with everyone he could find with knowledge about the Dean
documents, and hopefully ascertaining that no one had commenced any action under the short-lived presidential approval.
⁴⁶
Nixon advised Buzhardt in planning this counterattack, “You never hit back unless you hit to kill.”

At the end of the day Haig, Ziegler and Buzhardt were all agreeing that the Senate Watergate hearings were turning out to be a dull affair. Nixon assured Haig at 7:55
P.M.
that the public would “get tired of it, believe me.”
⁴⁷
At 8:01
P.M.
he told Buzhardt, “Don’t you watch it, don’t waste your time on it, please.”
⁴⁸
At 8:07 he asked Ziegler, “Did you survive the television orgasm?”
⁴⁹
“Well, yeah, I sure did,” Ziegler reported, noting that their witnesses “did a pretty good job.” But the best news was that the national Nielsen ratings were down. “That’s my point, Ron,” Nixon said. “People don’t want to see this shit” and told him to meet with his team again “just to kick this around.” He added, “Because here we are up against it now. The Ervin hearings are started. We got Dean making his move.” “He’s on [
CBS Evening News with Walter
]
Cronkite
, I understand.” “Yes sir,” Ziegler confirmed. “We have to coldly assess it and then move accordingly.” Nixon and Ziegler agreed that they were not worried about me, and Nixon closed the conversations by saying that they had to “fight the bastards, like we did on November third,” which was election day, suggesting that the president viewed his efforts to defend himself as just one more political campaign. A few hours later, at 10:41
P.M.
, Nixon called Ziegler back to see how his ongoing analysis session had gone.
⁵⁰
The latest meeting was just ending. Ziegler again assured Nixon that they were doing “a very cold, not weak, but very cold, thorough, calculating analysis of what we are up against.” They were assessing “how to approach the battle” and felt “nothing matters” but the presidency. Still, the focus was less than clear, and when Nixon stressed he wanted to address “the Dean problem,” Ziegler countered, “We shouldn’t dwell on the Dean problem.”

Only Nixon and Haldeman truly understood the extent of “the Dean problem,” so Nixon framed it broadly: “It is now clear that what we are up against is sort of an attempt to destroy the presidency and so forth.” Yet Nixon was still focused on me and wanted to know what I had said to Walter Cronkite. Ziegler replied that, based on a tip from “some plants over there at CBS who edited” the interview, there was nothing new. Nixon wanted to know if there was anything for him to do, saying “Hell, I’m ready to get on my horse, you know, any day.” Not yet, Ziegler counseled. Nixon wanted Ziegler’s view on who was the best person “to take on Dean,” and suggested
Ehrlichman. Ziegler, however, was thinking Nixon-friendly journalists and columnists. Ziegler had begun to become firm with Nixon, keeping him focused and looking ahead rather than endlessly rehashing everything, which was a colossal waste of his staff’s time.

On Friday morning, May 18, the president met with Haig and Ziegler in the Oval Office.
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Despite a great deal of discussion about a battle plan, no plan was set forth. There was more hand-wringing about Walters memcons—faced with no choice, Buzhardt had returned Walters’s documents to him, since they had been requested by the Senate Armed Services Committee following his earlier testimony—with the president concluding: “Let me say this: Walters’s memcons come out, it’s just another blow, but it isn’t going to be fatal.” This possibility had forced Nixon to think about his June 23, 1972, meeting. Without checking his schedule, not to mention the audio recording, Nixon thought he had met with both Haldeman and Ehrlichman that morning, and “I asked them to have a meeting as part of my efforts to [find out] who the hell was involved and, if the CIA was involved, [keep] them the hell out of it.” Nixon was not sure what he should finally do about the Walters memcons, but he felt that Haldeman and Ehrlichman should speak up on this matter.

Haig reported Ehrlichman had called him the night before and said he was about to go public, stating that he had told the CIA precisely what the president had instructed, which he recalled well because he had made “a firm record” at the time. “So John basically is going to turn on the president, do you mean to say?” Nixon asked. “I have a feeling he’s going to cave on us,” Haig reported. Their debate about what Ehrlichman might say led to a discussion of Haig looking at Haldeman’s and Ehrlichman’s notes of their conversation with Nixon. Haig wanted Buzhardt also to be fully informed, so he could make decisions, but Nixon vetoed the idea: “They want to pull out all of Bob’s papers and John’s papers. We can’t allow that. We just cannot allow it. If Haldeman’s conversations with me ever get into the public record, it will bring the house down.” Then Nixon added, “If he looks at them, all it’s going to do is drive him up the wall, and he’ll probably resign. Now that’s just the way it would be. And I feel the same way with regard to John’s, and Colson’s [papers, too], for that matter.” Nixon soon noted that if they got into that material, “you just may as well face up to the resignation right now, to be perfectly frank with you.” He said that was the way it had to be, and if “you break that line, we cannot survive it.” Nixon felt that that was
appropriate, because “the president is not on trial here.” Haig noted, “It means the battle will be tougher and less certain,” but Nixon was prepared to accept that fact and drew a very clear line for Haig: “My point is this. I am just telling you that from a practical standpoint, if Bob Haldeman and John Ehrlichman and Chuck Colson’s memoranda of conversations with the president about any relation to Watergate are spread to the public record, it will destroy us.”

After their conversation both Haig and Buzhardt were concerned about Ehrlichman’s steadfastness, and they seemed to agree that he would seek “to protect his ass.” Nixon and Haig were in accord that Haldeman was the stronger of the two. Nixon wanted Haig to speak with Haldeman and say, “Bob, you have to do what you can to shore up John,” who can’t “pull the president down. If the president goes down, there isn’t anybody to save them. Let’s face it, you see? If these men should get convicted, I’m the only one that can save them, putting it quite candidly. They know that.”

Haig returned to the Oval Office shortly after noon to report that the Walters memcons were now with the Senate Armed Service Committee, who “read them in their worst-most context.”
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Nixon provided their likely interpretation: “The president told them to go out and fix the case.” “That’s right,” Haig confirmed, and urged that they consider going out and explaining it in a way that would be favorable to the president. To impress upon Nixon the seriousness of the situation, Haig said, “There’s impeachment talk in the committee,” and for that reason, a report of how it all happened “might sweep the whole God damn thing out of the way. In other words, what we have to think about, sir, is that possibility versus a long bleeding erosion.” When Nixon reminded Haig that only the House could impeach, Haig insisted, “But we really have to think about this as a tactic,” noting, “We’re in a God damn gunfight to maintain you in the presidency.” Haig thought that such a report would also help Haldeman and Ehrlichman, and soon he suggested adding information about the plumbers operation, as well. Haig was pushing hard for “getting it all out.”

“You’d just put out the white paper? Is that what you’d do? What do you have in mind as to how it would be done?” Nixon asked. But Haig had not thought that through, so they assessed the elements against Nixon in Congress, and the president concluded that “the forces of evil are so malignant at the moment” that he needed to act: “Alright, I am personally going to get a game plan for getting with Ron” to get this information out.