The Wars of Watergate (58 page)

Haldeman was worried about his future. He and the President had nothing but contempt for Jeb Magruder, contempt and a dread that Margruder was weak and would drag others down. They feared that Magruder would break under pressure from the prosecutors. Nixon had asked John Ehrlichman to maintain watch over John Dean, who, in turn, was supposed to keep an eye on Magruder. Dean himself had had lawyers in touch with the prosecutors since April 5. Trust within the circle was cracking.

At the beginning of April, the President and his aides talked about Dean, describing him as “personally innocent.” But on April 4, Nixon and Ehrlichman considered the possibility that if Dean testified, he might implicate Haldeman. “Splash,” Ehrlichman noted in his minutes.
¹

Dean told Ehrlichman that Earl Silbert and the U.S. Attorney’s office knew Magruder had perjured himself in earlier testimony to the prosecutors. Nixon and Ehrlichman obviously had prepared for this eventuality. Ehrlichman had suggested that Magruder simply tell Silbert he had “refreshed” his memory. On April 8 the President urged Ehrlichman to push Magruder in that direction. But events had overtaken plans. Dean had learned—undoubtedly from his lawyer—that the prosecutors had larger concerns: what higher authorities had initiated and approved the Watergate break-in? Dean’s advice was “to let it flow”; Nixon and Ehrlichman agreed. Nixon tried to be confident about the security of the White House, telling Ehrlichman that if Magruder “pull[ed] the plug,” he would do so on Mitchell, not Haldeman.
²

Two days later Magruder and his lawyer began extended discussions with Silbert leading to a confession and a plea bargain. The deal was struck on April 14, but a day earlier, Haldeman delegated his top aide, Larry Higby—popularly known as “Haldeman’s Haldeman”—to sound out Magruder. Magruder told Higby that the U.S. Attorney’s office would get all the facts, but Haldeman, he assured Higby, would have “no problem.” Mitchell, Dean, and Liddy had problems, but not Haldeman, Magruder insisted. Magruder seemed terribly anxious not to incur Haldeman’s wrath, perhaps believing that he and the President might yet provide absolution. Higby drew the lines: “I’ve been on the periphery of this God damned thing and it—to my knowledge you never did talk to Haldeman about any of this kind of bullshit.” Magruder frantically agreed—only afterward, he said, did he speak to Haldeman. Higby pressed hard. Did Liddy ever relay any instructions from Haldeman? Any indication that Haldeman “had ever seen anything?”
The President? “Shit [,] no,” Magruder exclaimed, and hastily added that he would not say anything “that will … implicate the President of the United States in anything.” Higby repeated the line of questioning several times, probing again and again for any sign of weakness.
³

Just in case Magruder changed his mind, Higby—and Haldeman—had his promise on tape.

Magruder kept his word. His discussions with the prosecutors confined Watergate matters to Mitchell and the CREEP operation, keeping the White House free from involvement. Magruder’s testimony provided the President and his top aides with a new opportunity to contain the inquiry and ward off any further assaults on their position. The very day that Magruder finished his negotiations with Silbert, Nixon, Haldeman, and Ehrlichman devised a convoluted plan to convince Mitchell to assume responsibility for the whole affair.

Passing strange that on that same day Ehrlichman gave the President a “report” paralleling Magruder’s story, and minimizing the activity of the White House in the initiation of the break-in or its subsequent cover-up. Ehrlichman’s version focused on John Mitchell and his zealous aides—Magruder, Liddy, and various CREEP officials and lawyers—who had “misinterpreted” White House requests (from Haldeman and Colson) for intelligence, planned and executed the break-in, and then sought to cover up their activities. Except for Mitchell’s request to Dean that the White House help raise money for the defendants, the report flatly stated, no Administration personnel had knowledge “of any specific acts of obstruction of justice or sought to procure any person’s testimonial silence.”

Nixon must have been bemused, for he, of course, had long known of the attempts to keep Hunt mollified. Ehrlichman’s report minimized Dean’s role—although he well knew that Dean had played a large part in rehearsing Magruder’s earlier perjured testimony. He acknowledged that Dean was ready to testify but he was confident he would confine his remarks to Mitchell and Magruder. But Ehrlichman had misplaced his confidence. John Dean’s conversations with the prosecutors broke the bounds shaped by Magruder’s testimony and by those which Ehrlichman hoped to establish.
⁴

The talks of April 14 began with a morning meeting of more than two and one-half hours between the President, Haldeman, and Ehrlichman. The tape recordings of the conversations at times appear disjointed. The transcripts have been cannibalized for a juicy tidbit here, a titillating curse there. Interpreting the transcripts as showing hesitation or uncertainty in the Oval Office would be an error, however. The transcripts reflect a consistent line of discussion. Certainly, participants occasionally sounded unsure of matters, but that only mirrored the compartmentalization that Nixon generally had imposed on his dealings with aides. The President himself always seemed to know the correct answers, and throughout he established and maintained
the drift and tone of the conversations. In his most perilous moments, Richard Nixon remained the man on top.
⁵

Nixon was determined to solidify his defensive position, a strategy that involved getting John Mitchell “out front.” Ehrlichman and Haldeman suggested language that the President could use to steer Mitchell on the proper course. This was not unusual; providing words—“talking papers,” in White Housese—always had been a part of their job. They knew what they needed; they also understood the President’s needs—and wants. Ehrlichman and Nixon projected a dialogue for Ehrlichman to use when he confronted Mitchell:

Ehrlichman proposed that he invite Mitchell to call the President to hear the word directly. But Haldeman, as if he were writing a movie about conspiracies, had a better idea. He would phone Mitchell and say that the President wished to speak to him. That would obscure any role for himself or Ehrlichman and make it appear that the President operated “unilaterally.”

The three men knew that Mitchell would be difficult. Ehrlichman suggested that Nixon tell his friend that he could not remain in New York, pretending that “the thing” would go away. On two occasions, the President interjected “[T]here’s nobody else that can do it”—meaning that only Mitchell could keep the affair contained. Only a week earlier, Nixon had been insisting to Haldeman that he wanted Mitchell to know he stood “firm” with him; now, Mitchell was the “real problem” and should take responsibility. Nixon allowed himself some self-pity—perhaps intended ultimately for Mitchell—lamenting the “impossible position” of the White House and the growing chorus of Republican criticism. Still, he carefully explored his options. Should they continue to stonewall it, take their chances with the Ervin Committee, or take any other step that might be better than “this cave-in”? Ehrlichman reassured him that the Mitchell “cave-in” was the
only route. The President took the cue; he would tell Mitchell, “I think it is a lot better for us to be forthcoming before you are indicted.”

The ever-calculating Ehrlichman found multiple advantages in Mitchell’s sacrifice. If Mitchell were indicted, that would hamper the Ervin inquiry, for any testimony by White House people might jeopardize Mitchell’s right in a subsequent trial. Mercilessly, Ehrlichman kept depicting Mitchell as incompetent and hopelessly mired in legal violations. He told the President about a pending indictment in New York, involving Mitchell and Maurice Stans and the receipt of a contribution from Robert Vesco, a financier with great legal problems of his own. The President characterized Mitchell’s role there as “dumb.”

Nixon knew about another case of which his aides had learned, and he wanted to hear more particulars. A Baltimore grand jury had been hearing testimony concerning Maryland building contracts and the bribery of public officials, including the former Governor, now Vice President, Spiro Agnew. Agnew’s potential problems provided a welcome diversion. Haldeman reported that Agnew was “scared shitless,” and had threatened to involve Mitchell as a recipient of illegal campaign contributions unless the White House helped him. (Agnew denied ever implicating Mitchell, who “was one of my closest friends,” while Haldeman and Ehrlichman “were my biggest problems on the Nixon staff.”) Nixon thought all Agnew’s problems involved a Jewish crowd in Baltimore, but he found it unbelievable that Agnew would take money in his office, as had been charged. Haldeman and Ehrlichman confidently believed that the Republican U.S. Attorney (a brother of a Maryland senator) would not indict Agnew. But they seemed to enjoy the fact that he would be tarnished and perhaps take some heat away from the White House. “Thank God I was never elected Governor,” the President said, as he referred to the bribery problems of another state official.
⁶

Perhaps Richard Nixon saw Agnew as a pawn; neither then nor later did he understand that Agnew represented a built-in insurance policy against impeachment proceedings directed at himself. For the April siege, however, Agnew still had his uses. On April 25 the Vice President delivered a brief statement to reporters, reaffirming his “full confidence in the integrity of President Nixon,” and urging that nothing be done to prejudice the rights of possible defendants.

The forthcoming Ervin Committee inquiry provided another diversionary moment during the lengthy morning meeting on April 14. Weicker by then had completely alienated the White House. Nixon bitterly resented Weicker’s public criticisms, and he believed that Weicker was miffed because of the treatment of his friend Pat Gray. Apparently, Ehrlichman and Haldeman thought they had sufficient derogatory information to force Weicker off the committee, but Ehrlichman suggested waiting until the hearings started. Then
they could embarrass the whole proceeding and, as Haldeman suggested, strike fear into other Republicans. Nixon suggested that his aides “stick it right to him,” but also thought it would be better to fight Weicker, his slick public-relations techniques and all, as opposed to some “smart son of a bitch.” Ehrlichman, meanwhile, remained confident that Howard Baker would safeguard the White House. A few days earlier, on April 11, he had told Mitchell that Baker continued to be guarded in his dealings, but really helpful.
⁷

Ehrlichman had his own agenda. Mitchell, of course, was his primary target, but Ehrlichman thought that Dean, too, should be given an opportunity to serve the President in like fashion. He reminded Nixon of Dean’s knowledge of the hush money, as well as several other links to the cover-up. Ehrlichman did not want Dean fired; if he remained as the President’s Counsel, Ehrlichman believed that Silbert and the grand jury would be more respectful. The President then spoke carefully about Dean’s role. He “only tried to do what he could to pick up the Goddamn pieces and … everybody else around here knew it had to be done.… Uh, let’s face it. I’m not blaming anybody else … That was his job.” But Ehrlichman noted that quite a number of White House people knew what Dean was doing—and even the President admitted his awareness. Nixon then thanked
both
men for arranging Dean’s role in the way they had, for it showed “why the isolation of the President isn’t a bad position to be in.” Still, Dean was special for the President, even to the point of distinguishing him favorably from Mitchell. Back to the point: if Dean were fired for his wrongdoing, Ehrlichman emphasized, then Nixon would have to—“fire the whole staff,” the President interrupted. Ehrlichman realized that Magruder was no problem, but Dean was a big time bomb. Ehrlichman knew that they must handle Dean with kid gloves; his solicitude, of course, was only self-serving.

Everyone had an agenda; appropriately, the President’s was unique. He told his aides that he was convinced that no one wanted to hurt “the President.” He welcomed that attitude “because it isn’t the man, it’s the Goddam office” that must be protected. Better, however, that others protect the office. He told Ehrlichman to call Mitchell and persuade him to take responsibility. Nixon may have sensed how much Ehrlichman relished the idea of telling Mitchell what he had to do. But it was not a time for ironic reflections. The President himself could not face Mitchell; indeed, he directed Ehrlichman to inform Mitchell that he considered it the “toughest decision he’s made,” tougher than Cambodia and the Christmas bombing together. Nixon waxed and waned as to the outcome. He sounded certain that Mitchell would resist, but finally realized that the former Attorney General must submit. Nixon closed by exhorting his troops: “We have to prick the Goddam boil and take the heat. Now that’s what we are doing here. We’re going to prick the boil and take the heat.”
⁸

*  *  *

Shortly after lunch on April 14, Nixon and Haldeman met briefly in the Oval Office. Haldeman finally had reached Magruder, who informed him that “it is all done now”—that he had decided to cooperate with the prosecutors. “[E]verybody involved here is going to blow,” Magruder warned. Nixon had not yet told Mitchell of his decision, but he realized the bleakness of Mitchell’s situation. “How the hell can John Mitchell deny it? He was right on the [unintelligible] spot,” Nixon said. But now, in reality, Mitchell was beside the point. What would Magruder say about his relationship with the White House, specifically with Gordon Strachan and thus with Haldeman? Haldeman confidently believed Strachan would deny any knowledge that the reports he had received from Magruder came from illegal wiretaps. Magruder, however, had reported that the prosecutors had little interest in Strachan.
⁹
So far, so good—for the White House.