The Wars of Watergate (40 page)

Thomas Pappas had longstanding connections with the CIA and the Greek KYP; politically and economically, he supported the Greek junta. In 1976, Ambassador Tasca reportedly testified in executive session to the House Intelligence Committee that Pappas indeed had transferred funds from the KYP to the Nixon campaign committee in 1968. Pappas had powerful friends and real influence in the Administration. When the Colonels intervened in Cyprus in 1974, the Commander-in-Chief of the Greek Armed Forces claimed that Pappas brought a message from American officials to the KYP supporting the action.

Information derogatory to Pappas was also information derogatory to the Administration—as Elias Demetracopoulos found out throughout the Nixon years. What that information was exactly, and how much Lawrence O’Brien knew about it, might well have fallen into the category of intelligence that Liddy and his wiretapping team had to ascertain. Curiously, through both campaigns in 1968 and 1972, O’Brien did not seem anxious to exploit the information. Nevertheless, knowledge about O’Brien’s knowledge of Demetracopoulos’s intelligence, together with “derogatory information” about O’Brien’s past dealings with Hughes, for example, might have offered the Administration some bargaining leverage with O’Brien.

In time, the Nixon Administration made Demetracopoulos pay dearly for what he had said. Columnists friendly to the Administration, such as James J. Kilpatrick, denounced Demetracopoulos as a fraud and suggested that he might be a Communist agent. (Kilpatrick, however, soon discovered that he had been misled and retracted every charge.) The FBI, the CIA, the State Department, and the Department of Justice all maintained files containing allegedly hostile information on Demetracopoulos—information that each agency eventually acknowledged was wrong. Significantly, the “Greek Connection” theory of Watergate caused the most anxiety for the longest period of time for the Nixon Administration, and the agencies that served it.
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Since the Watergate break-in clearly was a political intelligence operation, the insights of the
real
campaign director deserve mention. Richard Nixon never offered an explicit or implicit theory explaining the event. In his memoirs,
he broke his explanation down to the “factual truth” (a literal description of the events of Watergate, events that could never be completely reconstructed), the “legal truth” (involving judgments about motives), the “moral truth” (which considered whether the White House’s behavior was ethically wrong), and the “political truth.” The political truth, he explained, was the total impact of all the other truths on the nation and the nation’s judgment of Nixon and his Administration. On one point, of course, the President was firm and consistent: he had no prior knowledge of the break-in.
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He never discussed his responsibility for instructing his aides to gather derogatory information on O’Brien or other political enemies, however.

As time passes, the Watergate burglars and the specifics of their plans and deeds will recede further from historical consciousness. The burglary itself—its planning, its flawed execution, and even its motives—ultimately must be seen as part of a behavior pattern characterizing the President and his aides that stretched back to the beginnings of the Nixon Administration. The Watergate burglary parted the veil that hid the “underside” of that government. Even if we should learn that the Administration was victimized by a CIA plot—even if we should learn the motive for the burglary—that would change nothing regarding our understanding of John Mitchell’s “White House horrors.” Nor would it mitigate the resulting inter-institutional conflicts and encounters, which raised profound constitutional and political questions, or the constitutional crisis generated by the Administration’s behavior in the wake of the burglary. That behavior resulted in the special crimes of cover-up and obstruction by high Administration officials—up to and including the President of the United States.

The FBI quickly assumed primary responsibility for the investigation of the Watergate break-in. In fact, overall responsibility for the effort belonged to the Department of Justice, particularly to the Criminal Division. Assistant Attorney General Henry Petersen, a career government official, headed the division. He maintained contact with Acting FBI Director Gray and with the U.S. Attorney’s office in Washington. U.S. Attorney Harold Titus turned the case over to his chief assistant, Earl Silbert. After Hunt and Liddy had been implicated, Titus directed two more assistants, Seymour Glanzer and Donald Campbell, to work with Silbert.

The FBI’s investigation, and the U.S. Attorney’s handling of the case, were later criticized as inept, unnecessarily cautious, and overly solicitous of the Administration.
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Such criticism ignores the Administration’s successful efforts to contain the investigation. Throughout the period, the White House directed a campaign of noncooperation, lies, and a tragic betrayal from within to effectively hamstring the FBI’s efforts.

The prosecutors sought to learn more about the break-in as they attempted to immunize one of the burglars and offered James McCord a deal in exchange for his cooperation. Three months of investigation and the prosecutors’ organization of evidence produced indictments on September 15 against the five burglars as well as Hunt and Liddy. Yet for six more months, the Administration successfully concealed facts and the involvement in the Watergate affair of a wide range of CREEP and White House officials, until such individuals as McCord, Magruder, and Dean decided to reveal the larger story out of their own self-interest.

From the very beginning, FBI efforts to move beyond the basic seven suspects met determined resistance. If agents interviewed White House officials such as Charles Colson, White House Counsel John Dean was present—and quarrelsome. When agents spoke to campaign officials, CREEP lawyers stayed in the room, often objecting to questions and interfering with the process. Earl Silbert counterattacked at one point by issuing grand-jury subpoenas to CREEP personnel so they could be questioned without attorneys present.

In a few cases, re-election committee employees made an effort to speak to investigating agents away from campaign headquarters. From one, FBI agents learned that a committee administrator had not been “frank” with agents and had diverted them from investigating substantive matters by providing leads to keep them “busy” with relative trivialities. Investigating agents simply could not corroborate other tips, such as one that important information had been destroyed.

The FBI’s subsequent evaluation of its investigation acknowledged that it had been wrong to allow Dean to sit in during interviews and to clear all requests for information. But there had been no alternative: the investigatory procedure had been determined by FBI Acting Director Gray, who proceeded under White House orders. Furthermore, Gray had routinely submitted FBI investigative reports to Dean, which enabled the White House aide to keep abreast of the investigation. What also would be learned was that Dean had given Gray important evidence belonging to Howard Hunt, evidence that Gray would withhold and later destroy.

In their investigation of the re-election committee, Bureau agents logically focused on McCord’s links, trying to determine who had hired him, what money was available to him, and who worked with him. The agents conducted more than sixty interviews at CREEP headquarters, but later revelations showed that those interviewed had lied and evaded questions, including Mitchell, Magruder, and Liddy’s secretary. Robert Odle, the CREEP director of administration, waited ten months before revealing that he had hidden the Gemstone file from investigators. Agents had been told on several occasions in June 1972 that evidence had been destroyed, and specifically that Liddy had shredded documents, but they simply could not
prove the destruction. Nearly a year later, Mitchell described for the Senate Select Committee the White House determination in “keeping the lid on and no information volunteered.” Those interviewed had been coached to lie, and their testimony had been rehearsed.

Several hours after the burglary, Liddy turned up at a Washington golf course to see Attorney General Kleindienst. According to Kleindienst, Liddy said that Mitchell wanted the Attorney General to get the suspects out of jail at once. Kleindienst claimed he did not believe Mitchell would send such a message and publicly threatened to have Liddy arrested. But he told no one of the incident. The FBI later claimed that if it had known immediately of that episode, it would have more easily identified Liddy as an important actor in the events it was investigating, would have wasted less time on needless interviews at committee headquarters, and would have had reason to zero in early on Mitchell and Liddy. Perhaps, Bureau investigators later speculated, the cover-up might have been more quickly exposed. But even when FBI agents questioned Mitchell and various White House officials, they naturally “assume[d] that men of [such] stature would have no involvement,” as Special Prosecutor Leon Jaworski said two years later.
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The President had a favorite word for the White House strategy: “stonewall.”

Richard M. Nixon, 37th President of the United States, 1969–1974. (National Archives)

Spiro T. Agnew, Judy Agnew, Pat Nixon, and Richard M. Nixon at the 1972 Republican Convention in Miami. (National Archives)

The President and Vice President with the entire Cabinet and other leading presidential advisers, at the White House, November 1969. (National Archives)

Vice President Agnew and President Nixon, 1971. (National Archives)