Blind Ambition: The End of the Story (35 page)

Jeb was pleading. I was miserable. If I testified truthfully, I would provide evidence against Jeb both on the break-in and on his perjury. I had never agreed to support his perjured testimony with false testimony of my own, but I had certainly condoned his story and even coached him to help make it convincing. He considered me his partner in the cover-up. I had helped throw him overboard, and now I was yanking back the lifeline. Only my anger at Magruder saved me from feeling like the lowest rat. Jeb was the one who was most responsible for the break-in, who had got us into this whole mess. True, I had helped him save himself by helping him to commit perjury. But I had never agreed to lie for him. Now he was threatening me. I latched onto my anger for dear life.

“Jeb, the question is moot right now,” I said. “I haven’t been asked to testify anywhere.” I was dodging. I couldn’t say I would lie, and I couldn’t say I wouldn’t. I knew they would interpret my hedging as an ominous sign for them.

“Yeah, but what if you do testify?” Jeb persisted.

“I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. Just like you will.”

“How do you remember it?” Mitchell asked me. He spoke quietly, not looking at me, staring at the wall across the room.

I couldn’t look at Mitchell, either. I felt no animus toward him, unlike Magruder. He had been an uncle to me, and now he was asking whether I would help send him to prison for something I had broken down doors to help him cover up. I felt completely disarmed and wretched. “Well, John,” I said, “I recall the meeting with Jeb vividly, and I never heard of the cancellation of the second meeting until after he testified. That was some later refinement I was unaware of. I do recall saying that if asked why I was at the meeting, he could say I was there because I was the election-law expert. Jeb added that he could say the entire meeting dealt with that, and—”

“Yeah, but you agreed you’d go along,” blurted Magruder. “It was your suggestion about the election laws that made me decide to testify that way.”

Jeb was hurting me, but his aggressive tone was in such contrast to Mitchell’s hapless calm that I found it almost easy to brush him off. “There’s no sense debating this now, Jeb. I’m just not... No one has asked me to testify.”

I turned to Mitchell. I was not certain he had perjured himself, although I would have been shocked to learn he had testified about having heard bugging discussed in those meetings. And I wanted to assure him that I had only hearsay knowledge that he had approved the Liddy plan after the February 4 meeting. “John, I don’t know to this day precisely what happened after that second meeting. I’ve never asked you, and I won’t ask now. I can only speculate.” I had no intention of speculating, of course. What I was telling him was that I had little or no legal evidence against him on the break-in.

“Well, what is your speculation?” he asked, still looking away.

I was stunned by the question. Why would he possibly ask that? I hesitated, my eyes darting about the room, before deciding to tell the truth. Mere speculation could do Mitchell no harm, I figured. “Well, I have had a lot of theories,” I began. “My strongest one is that Colson was all over you on the Liddy plan, and Haldeman was sending down pressure through Strachan. I know you weren’t too excited about it, but I figure you finally said what the hell and approved it to get them off your back. My theory is that you just threw the dice on it.”

Mitchell turned to look at me for the first time. He was holding his pipe in his hand, leaning slightly forward in his chair. “Your theory is right,” he said quietly, “except we thought it would be one or two times removed from the Committee.”
7
*

My gut wrenched. I looked in Mitchell’s face. This was not John Mitchell the stonewaller, “Old Stone Face,” as the President called him. He had just admitted to me that he had approved the Liddy plan, that he was in trouble, and needed help. He had just trusted me with his biggest secret, and if I told the truth I would have to betray this one too. A hundred perjuries are not much worse than one. Deep down, I knew Mitchell had played his best card. He was counting on my feeling for him, laying himself in my hands. My realization was overwhelmed by sentiment. Now I felt the razor edge between the squealer and the perjurer. I had never felt more squalid.

I looked away from Mitchell’s eyes. The room was closing in on me. I had to get out. Fast. “Listen, I can’t talk about this now,” I said to no one, trembling. “I’ve got to get back to my office. We can talk later maybe.”

I turned and walked hurriedly out of the room, down the hall. I did not go to the office. I went straight home. One small lie to stop more lies. My emotions were spilling over in all directions. I called Tom Hogan and asked him to arrange a meeting with Charlie Shaffer as soon as possible. I needed help.

Chapter Eight: Scrambling

CHARLES NORMAN SHAFFER CALLS HIMSELF a simple country lawyer, but he prosecuted some of the toughest criminals of the sixties and went on to defend many others. Tall, athletically trim, with prematurely graying hair, he strikes a commanding presence in any crowd. Hogan arranged for us to meet at an apartment not far from Charlie’s office in Rockville, Maryland. The two of us reminisced briefly about the duck-hunting trip we’d once met on, but Charlie ended the pleasantries.

“Well, John, obviously you didn’t ask to meet with me to talk about old times. You’re a busy man, and so am I. What’s on your mind?”

“Just for the record, Charlie, this conversation is, of course, privileged?”

“Are you here to retain me as your lawyer?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Well, then, whether I take your case or not, this is a privileged communication. You look like a man with some heavy problems,” he said.

“I am, Charlie, but I don’t want to talk about the President, or matters that might be considered national-security.” I was still a long way from telling anyone such things.

“I’m ready to listen. I can give you at least two hours, but I’ve got something on my schedule for this afternoon. So maybe you better start.”

For the next five hours I took Charlie through the highlights of what had happened. He sat silently. Occasionally he shook his head in disbelief and said, “I’ll be damned” or “No shit.” Only once did he interrupt, to call his office and cancel his appointment. As I told the story, I felt a great relief in getting the weight of it off my mind, sharing the burden with somebody else. Five hours was not enough to tell him all I knew, so we agreed to meet for another session.

“Well, Charlie, what do you think about what I’ve told you thus far?” I asked.

“Frankly, I’m overwhelmed. I want to think about it. I’ll tell you when we meet next if I can represent you, and we’ll talk further. I already think you should minimize your dealings with others as much as possible. Don’t talk facts with them. From what you tell me, it looks like this fella Ehrlichman is maneuvering to protect himself at your expense.”

Three days later, on the morning of April 3, we resumed our discussion. I realized how much he had absorbed. He asked a few sharp questions “to start separating the wheat from the chaff,” and told me he would represent me. I was encouraged. Finally I ended my recital with another “What do you think?”

“John, you’re in big trouble. Serious trouble.” My heart pounded. I had expected my lawyer to be more encouraging. “But your problem depends on a lot of things, lots of things. For example, who is going to handle this case. Do you know?”

“I assume the U.S. attorney’s office here in the District—Earl Silbert, Seymour Glanzer, and a guy named Donald Campbell. They’ve been on it so far.”

“Old Seymour Glanzer is in this case.” Charlie laughed. “I’ll be damned.” I didn’t see the humor. “Seymour is a good lawyer, a smart bastard, and one tough prosecutor,” he continued. “I know him, know him quite well, I’ve had a lot of dealings with Seymour and respect him. I think he respects me, too.” Charlie was pacing the apartment now. He had taken his suit jacket off earlier, unbuttoned his vest, and had his hands deep in his pockets and his head down as he walked about. “Here’s the way I analyze the situation. First, you don’t have a problem with what happened before June seventeenth, with the original Watergate break-in. You were a part of that conspiracy, but you clearly withdrew and renounced it to Haldeman. Would Haldeman testify to that?”

“I don’t know, Charlie. I would think so.”

“Well, it’s not really important anyway, because you can make the case against Mitchell and Magruder. I’m not worried about pre-June seventeenth, but post— There, as far as I’m concerned, you’re guilty as hell of conspiring to obstruct justice. You may like to think of yourself as just a little guy carrying out orders, but the counsel to the President is no little guy outside the White House. Technically, you’re just as much a part of the conspiracy to cover up as Haldeman, Ehrlichman, Mitchell, and whoever.” He was still pacing, and he fell silent from time to time, somewhat theatrically, I thought. He was the first of many criminal lawyers I would encounter in the months, and years, ahead whose courtroom mannerisms often became a part of their personality, at least when they were playing criminal lawyer.

“The question I’ve got to ask you is, what do
you
want to do? But before you answer I want to say this: As far as I’m concerned, you withdrew from the cover-up conspiracy when you came to see me.”

“Charlie, it was my feeling that I should go down to see Silbert and Glanzer and lay the whole thing out for them.”

“Why?”

“Well, because that’s the way to end it all.”

“Have you thought about what that will do to the President?”

“I’ll say I have. And that’s the best solution I’ve been able to come up with. I figure if I go down there and lay it out, and explain what I’ve done
—”

“I’m not telling you what to do yet,” Charlie interrupted. “Or what my advice is. I haven’t decided. I’m just trying to see if you know what you believe is the best thing to do. Listen, here’s what I want you to do. You have not been subpoenaed to appear before a grand jury. You’re just sitting around stewing in your juices right now. I want to find out what is really happening and where the hell we are. I’m going to call Silbert and Glanzer and go see them.”

“Hold on, Charlie. If you go to see them, they’re going to have to report it to Petersen, who’s going to report it to Kleindienst, then to the President. He’s going to think I’m doing a number on him.”

“Goddammit, first you tell me you want to run down to the prosecutors and be some kind of hero.
You
do that and there’s a damn good chance they’ll pull you right in front of the grand jury and indict your ass. That’s the way the ball game is played. You don’t have to run into machine guns to get your story out. I’ll talk to them and find out what they’re looking for. Let’s get this clear right here and now,” he said, standing over me and looking me square in the eyes. “If I’m going to represent you, we’re going to handle this case my way. You either trust me or you don’t. With a little luck and the right moves at the right time, I can keep you out of jail and save your license to practice law. Is that understood? Otherwise you might as well start looking for another lawyer.”

I felt comfortable with Charlie’s tough manner and I agreed, provided he could assure me he would swear Glanzer and Silbert to secrecy. What I had done by going to Charlie was start a process I had not been able to start alone. Inertia had been overcome. Charlie began meeting with Silbert and Glanzer. His confidence and brashness amazed me. Any hour of the day or night seemed appropriate to Charlie, when he decided to do something.

It was midnight one night when he called Glanzer at his home. He wanted to talk to Seymour privately. I started to protest the hour, but he held up his hand, continued dialing, spoke with Glanzer’s wife, and then with Seymour. “Seymour, you need to talk with me. You don’t know how badly you need to talk to me,” Charlie drawled with relish. There was a long silence as he listened. “Yeah, I know, you’ve got your problems in life and I’ve got mine, but I’m going to give you some more.” Silence. “You heard me. Now listen, Brother Glanzer, I’m about forty-five minutes from your house. Put some coffee on, because I’m coming over to see you.” Silence again. Charlie put his hand over the receiver and said to me, “Seymour can take more words to say less than any man I know, but I’m going over to see him.” When he finally ended the conversation, he said he would call me in the morning to tell me the results. “Is your phone bugged at your office?” he asked.

“Maybe. I doubt it, though.”

“Well, I’ll come see you just in case. I’ve never been to the White House anyway, and I want to see it.” This parting remark struck me as odd. Here I had just told him the awful mess that had happened at the White House, yet he was as awed by it as any American. I remembered that feeling, but it had long since gone.

Haldeman called from San Clemente, where the Presidential party had been astir the last few days over a state visit by South Vietnam’s President Thieu. I was not at all happy to hear from him, especially in light of Charlie’s instruction to lessen contact with the other cover-up principals. I had my toes in the enemy camp.

“Hi,” said Haldeman pleasantly. “Is the press giving you a breather? Things sound a little calmer back there.”

“Well, yeah, they are. They haven’t surrounded the house since I got back from Camp David.”

“That’s good. I guess with the Gray hearings toned down a little you ought to be able to lead a normal hectic life.”

“I hope so,” I said. I forced a tiny laugh, but I was wary. Usually Haldeman was all business from the first word. This banter was out of character. He was either stroking me or warming up for something heavy.

“We were talking out here,” he continued, “and we decided right now might be the time to put out some sort of statement. Have you finished up that Camp David report yet? We’d like to have it out here.”

“Uh, no, Bob. I’m still working on it.” So this is the business, I thought. Haldeman is now the heavy on the Dean Report, in spite of what I’ve told him about the dangers. I could imagine Ehrlichman telling the President that Haldeman would have the best chance of prying it out of me. I scrambled for an excuse. “I’ve had a little trouble getting at it. Uh, but I’m working at it. And I’ll tell you what. Dick Moore has finished the section on Segretti. I’ve got it right here.”

“That’s good, but when are you going to finish the Watergate part?”

“Uh, as soon as I can. I’m going to work on it.”

“Well, I want you to take that part you’ve got over to the Situation Room and have it dexed out to me right away.
1
*
We want to explore the possibility of releasing it. But I want you to get on that Watergate report.”

“Okay, Bob. It’s no picnic, but I’m working.” I felt my pulse begin to race as I lied. And I felt even worse because I had to tell Haldeman I had retained a lawyer; I couldn’t risk his finding it out from someone else. “Uh, listen, Bob,” I faltered, “I think I ought to tell you that since I’ve come back from Camp David I’ve talked to a lawyer. I’ve talked to him for myself, but I also think he can help me figure out what everybody else’s criminal liabilities are. You know, we just don’t have a good criminal lawyer around here.”

“I understand,” said Haldeman.

I felt relief that he hadn’t exploded. “I’ve got a guy named Charlie Shaffer. He’s one of the best. And I tell you, Bob, I think it’s the only thing to do. I think Shaffer can help us find out how good a case the prosecutors have against Mitchell and Magruder. He might help us with ways to get Mitchell to step forward. That’s the only possible way I can think of to end this thing cleanly.”

“Yeah. I want to hear about that.”

“And, you know, I can already see why John’s been checking around for outside criminal lawyers. They can keep us from making any more mistakes. I think John’s idea was right.” I was trying to make what I had done sound like a suggestion from Ehrlichman, who had, in fact, been gathering names of criminal lawyers; he didn’t want to rely on Henry Petersen, which was prudent of him. Ehrlichman had leaned on Petersen, and Henry had not forgotten Ehrlichman’s rebuking him for, among other things, calling Maury Stans before the grand jury.

“Okay,” said Haldeman. “That sounds okay. Find out whatever you can, but stay on that report.”

“Right.” I hung up and sat back. First step out of the box. I had been about as honest in revealing motives for wanting a lawyer as Bob had been with his motives for wanting the Dean Report. We were all protecting our flanks, and I was glad Haldeman and the others were out in San Clemente.

Charlie arrived at my office soon after I had sent Moore’s report to the Situation Room. He was impressed. Before he reported on his meetings with Silbert and Glanzer, he walked around inspecting the pictures on the wall. He chuckled at the “Many thanks” inscription Mitchell had written for me on the picture of himself. “I’ll bet,” he mused. Finally he plunked down in front of my desk.

“Everything’s okay,” Charlie announced. “Here’s the situation. Glanzer says they’re just trying to find out who authorized the bugging and the break-in. They’ve reached the brilliant conclusion that someone above Liddy had to be involved. They’re tracking on Magruder and Mitchell, and also suspect Colson. Anyway, they’re not looking around for post-June-seventeenth activities. In fact, they couldn’t care less, from what I could gather.”

This sounded encouraging. Maybe I was worrying unduly. “What now?” I asked. Charlie reported the prosecutors had informed him that I was a target of the grand-jury investigation of the break-in. “It’s McCord, John,” said Charlie, pacing in front of my desk. “McCord says you approved that bugging, along with Mitchell and Magruder. Now, I explained the rules of hearsay to those fellows. I told them McCord doesn’t know anything, and that what he thinks is wrong. I told them if they think their ass is in a sling for not cracking this case, they should just wait and see what I’ll do to them if they go after the wrong guy. I told them my man is a witness, not a defendant. But I still think they’re coming after you. You’re going to have to put the finger on Magruder and Mitchell.”