Blind Ambition: The End of the Story (46 page)

The job was made more difficult by frequent interruptions. Judge Sirica wanted me in court for a hearing on what to do with the copy of the Huston Plan
I had placed in a safe-deposit box. Another court scheduled me for depositions in the Common Cause suit against the Reelection Committee for failing to disclose campaign contributors. Sam Dash wanted to meet me at night. Back and forth between Washington and Bethany
. Bob wanted me to talk to more media people. He thought he could get me a television interview with Walter Cronkite
. I told him to go ahead, and he arranged for Cronkite
to come to my house for a CBS News Special interview on May 17, the day the Watergate hearings opened. Mo and I watched it that night and I jotted a list of criticisms of my television manner. One of my worries about the Ervin Committee option was insecurity about how I would come off on television. Would I look too cocky, too nervous, too mousy, too young?

I went back to work at Bethany
, but the interruptions continued. Now the House Commerce Committee
was calling me to testify about the handling of ITT
documents between the Securities and Exchange
Commission and the Justice Department. Secret Service
investigators wanted to meet with me about one of their senior officials who had passed information to Chuck Colson through me about Presidential candidate McGovern
. Everyone wanted to talk about something, and McCandless was also pressing me to have further meetings with the press. I returned to Washington and appeared before the House Commerce Committee, met with the Secret Service investigators, and, as Bob requested, met with Hays Gorey
of
Time
magazine.

The day before, on May 22, the President had issued his four thousand-word defense against the Watergate charges that had been accumulating against him. Gorey
brought me a copy of the statement. He was disappointed when I refused to comment on it, but he asked if Mo and I would permit a
Time
photographer to take a few pictures.

Bob pulled me aside into the kitchen of his apartment. “You ought to give Hays something. I promised him. He is a good man; he hasn’t made any judgments about you, one way or the other. I think he’ll give you a fair piece.”

“That’s what I thought about Lindsay
.”

“That wasn’t Lindsay
’s fault, be—”

“I understand, but why will it be any different with
Time
?”

“I explained what happened with Lindsay
to Gorey
, and he said he’ll get it in as he writes it, in a separate piece. You really should do this. It’s important for your image.”

I was half persuaded and returned to the interview. “What will you say for me about the President’s defense?” he asked.

“It’s a public-relations statement. Some of it is not quite accurate. Some of it is not accurate at all.”

“Off the record, what’s not accurate?”

“Well, Hays, I don’t like to go off record, but I will say this much, the damn thing is filled with lies.”

Gorey
took a copy of the document from the coffee table in front of us, took off his glasses, and studied it for a moment. “I won’t quote you, but I’m curious for my own information. What about Nixon’s claim he had no prior knowledge of the Watergate operation?”

“Off the record, that’s probably true.”

Gorey
was now paraphrasing from the document. “He took no part in, nor was he aware of, any subsequent efforts to cover Watergate up?”

“Not true.”

“He didn’t authorize any offers of executive clemency, nor did he know of the offers.”

“Bullshit.”

“He didn’t know until his own investigation, and I guess he’s referring to the so-called March twenty-first investigation, of efforts to pay off Watergate defendants.”

“Cleverly worded, but a lie.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’d rather not be more specific, but he never initiated any investigation, for openers.”

“What about his statement that there was no attempt, or authority from him, to implicate the CIA in Watergate?”

“I don’t know firsthand, but I’ve got to assume that Haldeman and Ehrlichman did not act without his approval. Probably it’s a lie.”

“He says he didn’t know about the break-in at Ellsberg
’s psychiatrist’s office until his own investigation, and then specifically authorized the report of this fact to Judge Byrne
, who was sitting on the case.”

“Lies. He knew, and he was forced to report it.”

“Finally, this document says, and, John, this is very helpful to me, that he didn’t authorize or encourage subordinates to engage in any illegal or improper campaign tactics.”

“Complete bullshit, if you’ll excuse my French.”

Hays sat back. “If you’re right, this really is some public-relations document.” He had recently interviewed Senator Barry Goldwater
, he said, and Goldwater
had told him that if Nixon had lied and were to get caught, he’d be in serious trouble. He was telling me that if my testimony destroyed Nixon’s defense the President would fall. It was a sobering observation; I’d been flip as I offered my off-the-record reactions.

After meeting with Gorey
, I went to see Senator Goldwater at the home of his son, Congressman Barry Goldwater Jr
., my old high school roommate and friend. The Senator had been much more than another politician to me for a long time; I looked up to him as a friend who would be honest with me. And because he was a vital element of the President’s public support, it was risky for him to meet with me at all. He knew I wouldn’t ask for the meeting unless I considered it urgent. I was about to charge the President of the United States publicly with offenses that might ruin him; and I was ready for that, but I was unnerved by other thoughts: What if my testimony undermined negotiations on a nuclear treaty? Caused a military flare-up somewhere in the world? Jeopardized a national-security matter I didn’t even know about?

“Frankly, Senator, I’m a bit frightened,” I told him. “I don’t want to get into details about my testimony with you—I don’t think we should, since you’ve got to judge it for yourself—but I’m worried about my testimony.”

“Hey, Barry,” he shouted to his son, who had gone to the kitchen to find some food, “have you got any bourbon? I think I’m going to want a drink.”

I continued as Barry returned with a sandwich and a glass of bourbon. “I just felt that I should talk to someone about this, because it’s bigger than me. Do you see me causing any problems, if for example my testimony weakens Nixon as President?”

“No, even though I don’t know what your testimony is about, I don’t see that problem,” he said.

“Senator, have you read the President’s May twenty-second defense?”

“Yep. It raises more questions than answers.”

“Well, it does something else, also. It makes him a liar. The thing is filled with lies, it’s nothing more than a public-relations document, and I’m going to tell the full story of what happened.”

“Hell,” Goldwater
said hoarsely, “I’m not surprised. That goddam Nixon has been lying all of his life.”

The Senator is known for his frankness. I asked him if he felt the public could accept one of the President’s aides charging him with being not only a liar but a criminal.

“John, you just march your ass up there to the Senate, and in front of those cameras, and tell ‘em what you know as best you can. Sure a lot of sanctimonious people are going to say they’re shocked to hear about their President doing these things. But don’t think it’s going to surprise anyone, really. Don’t you worry about the consequences.”

“Well, that’s exactly what I plan to do, Senator.”

“Good,” he said. He took another sip of his bourbon, and the conversation about Watergate ended.

When I went home, there were no reporters at the house, but a letter from the U.S. attorney’s office was waiting for me.

“I’ll be goddamned!” I shouted after reading it, so loudly it brought Mo running in from another room.

“What’s wrong now?” she asked.

“This is the damnedest letter I’ve ever seen,” I said furiously. “Silbert and Glanzer are demanding that I plead guilty to a one-count felony, as usual. But now the bastards are saying the train is moving out, and it’s my last chance.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means those guys are desperate, that’s what it means,” I steamed. “They’re trying to protect their asses now that the Special Prosecutor
3
*
has come in. This letter reads like a goddam press release! They sound like they had had the case all wrapped up until I blocked them, when those bastards know damn good and well I handed them the cover-up on a silver platter. This is the most hypocritical piece of shit I’ve ever seen. Listen to this.” I read her the last paragraph in a tone of mock piety, still in a rage:

If at this late date, you are sincerely sorry for your participation in the sorry picture of corruptions; if at this late date, you wish to make amends and let the truth be told; if at this late date, you are genuinely interested in advancing the public interest and the ends of justice, then you should demonstrate this in a meaningful way by providing testimony which could facilitate the successful prosecution of others who are also guilty in this matter.

The letter triggered queer images. I could see myself sitting on my cell bunk in prison denim, hunched over a broken-down radio, listening to the President: “Good evening, fellow Americans. There is a reason I am wearing a big smile tonight. I have good news. Less than an hour ago a jury of twelve American citizens, people just like you and me, returned a verdict that has vindicated a President. Two of the finest men and most outstanding public servants it has been my privilege to know have been found not guilty of participating in this disgraceful Watergate cover-up which has plagued you—and, of course, me. As you can see on camera now, these men are here with me. With this pen I am signing the papers to reinstate them to their vital jobs, and of course I will give them back pay for the time they have spent unfairly away from their desks, defending themselves against the groundless charges of the self-confessed scoundrel responsible for the cover-up. A man who deceived everyone, then struck out to save himself by maliciously implicating others. Ladies and gentlemen, young and old, there is justice in America. I never doubted it for a moment. Even my dog, King Timahoe here, a very smart dog, used to bark at the man who has wronged me. Well, I want to say I have tonight directed the Attorney General, Mr. Earl Silbert, to immediately prosecute John W. Dean for one hundred and eighty-six counts of perjury, which represents the number of lies he’s told against Bob Haldeman and John Ehrlichman here. There will be justice! Good night, and God bless you all.”

I called Charlie. “You’re not going to believe what I just got in the mail—”

“Yes, I am,” he interrupted. “I already got the damn thing. In fact, I just talked to old Seymour, bless his worried little ass. He said he drafted it. I’ll be damned if I understand why he’s proud of writing that self-serving piece of bullshit, but he is. I told him the fucking letter didn’t even deserve a response, and it won’t get one. Put on your Jimmy Stewart clothes, boy. You’re going to the Senate!”

I began desperately drafting my testimony. It was past the hour when I should have put pen to paper, and I knew I had a groaning labor ahead. I had watched some of the previous witnesses before the Ervin Committee; most of them had just taken the oath and begun answering questions. I couldn’t do that, I knew. My testimony would be picked apart if it emerged in disconnected bits. I decided Seymour Glanzer had been right about one thing: the only way to understand the complexities of Watergate was by absorbing a day-to-day account of the events. The reality I wanted to convey was too distant from what most people imagined about how the White House operated, and I had laid down my own restrictions on my testimony—no personalities, no subjective judgments, no “color” about how the White House really worked. Just dry legal facts.