The Nixon Defense: What He Knew and When He Knew It

by John W. Dean

  PART IV

  THE NIXON DEFENSE

  March 23 to July 16, 1973

  Richard Nixon viewed himself as something of an expert on political crises.1 While he had missed the early signs relating to Watergate, Nixon found that McCord’s letter forced him to face the reality that the matter had become a fast-developing potential presidential catastrophe. “The easiest period in a crisis situation is actually the battle itself,” Nixon had written in his vice-presidential memoir, Six Crises, adding, “The most difficult is the period of indecision—whether to fight or run away.”2

  At the time I myself was uncertain how the president would resolve his dilemma. I had tried, during our conversation on March 21, to alert him to the serious dangers he faced, hoping that by informing him of my own criminal liability it would be a catalyst for action. McCord’s letter, however, forced him to act sooner than he might have wished, because it thrust Judge John Sirica into the resolution of Watergate along with the Senate Watergate committee and the U.S. Attorney’s Office, which had resumed its grand jury investigation.

  These events dramatically increased the president’s attention to Watergate, and as a result, the final part of this account includes more than twice as many recorded conversations than all the earlier discussions combined. (The material in this section is based on more than six hundred conversations while there were only some three hundred Watergate-related conversations prior to this date.) Not only were there more conversations, but many were substantially longer than the earlier ones, which has required greater condensation (hopefully without loss of substance). Nixon’s face-to-face meetings after March 21 reveal—near exhaustingly—his propensity for engaging in highly repetitive conversations, day after day. Almost three hundred of the tapes were recordings of telephone calls, which were typically brief, and most contained little new or critical information.

  Notwithstanding the fact that the president had available his electronic recordings of his Watergate-related conversations, a detailed schedule of his activities prepared by his staff, his personally dictated diary entries relating to many of these matters, as well as the notes of his meetings made by Haldeman and Ehrlichman, this remarkably comprehensive factual record was almost totally ignored by Nixon as he constructed his final defense. With the exception of having Haldeman listen to his March 21 conversation with me and returning to report its gist to him, and Nixon himself listening to a few of his other conversations with me, the president relied on self-serving and deeply flawed memories of events up to and including March 21, and then twisted our March 21 conversation to fit his needs. Nixon did not want anyone other than Haldeman to know about the secret recordings, so he prepared his final defense and implemented it by simply ignoring the actual facts he could easily have checked. This proved a fatal mistake.

  Nixon later explained he “tried to grapple with the facts only to find that they were not like the pieces of a puzzle that could be assembled into one true picture. They were more like the parts of a kaleidoscope: at one moment, arranged one way, they seemed to form a perfect design, complete in every detail. But the simple shift of one conjecture could unlock them all and they would move into a completely different pattern.”3 While there is some truth to this metaphor—when you twisted the facts, the picture did change—the fact remains that he should not have twisted the facts, nor engaged in “conjecture,” rather pressed for the truth, which he never did. In fact Nixon knew if the twisting stopped, his top aides would become involved in an obstruction of justice. More troubling is the fact that he knew that he had been, as well, although he was unwilling to acknowledge it, other than hypothetically. Accordingly, his conversations during late March and throughout all of April reveal that not only did he know he needed to remove Haldeman, Ehrlichman, and me, but he had to do so in a way that he was least likely to incriminate himself and his presidency, not to mention minimizing any blowback from our leaving. Nixon would accordingly create a new conspiracy—in effect a cover-up of the cover-up—which began in late March 1973 and became fully formed in May and June of 1973, operating until his presidency ended on August 9, 1974.

  March 23 to April 13, 1973

  Options and Indecision

  March 23–27, 1973, Key Biscayne

  When Haldeman arrived at the president’s compound on Friday afternoon, March 23, he found Nixon fully immersed in Watergate, and they spent most of the next five hours going over it,1 the first of many such protracted sessions. There were similar conversations on Saturday, Sunday and Monday, March 24 to 26, with Haldeman calling Colson, Mitchell and me to flush out the details. Nixon also turned to former attorney general Bill Rogers for advice. What emerges from this Key Biscayne Watergate marathon was a new Nixon concern about his own involvement. He had Haldeman press Colson for exactly what Colson had said to Bill Bittman about clemency for Hunt, and Colson assured him that he had not mentioned discussing the matter with Nixon. He conceded, however, “that what Bittman inferred from his comments might be different from what was actually said.”2 Nixon suggested that if anyone on the White House staff was charged with criminal conduct he take a leave of absence, and was surprised when Haldeman noted, “Well, that’s exactly, of course, what they want. To drive someone in the top command out of office and indicate that the whole White House is shot through with corruption.” Nixon agreed, adding, “We have to find a way to cut this thing off at the pass before it reaches that point, because there’s no question in my mind that neither Haldeman or Ehrlichman are guilty.”3 As for Colson, the president was not certain. It had to have become clear to Nixon after this weekend that his problem was not what had occurred before June 17, 1972, but rather, afterward.4

  On Sunday, March 25, the Los Angeles Times notified the White House press office that it was planning to run a story that James McCord was claiming Magruder and I had both had advance knowledge of the Watergate break-in. Liddy had told McCord that I had attended a meeting in Mitchell’s office where he presented his plans, but McCord was not aware that I had tried to kill them. I denied the charge, as did the press office, and I hired a lawyer—a Georgetown Law classmate, Tom Hogan, who in time would become chief judge of the U.S. District Court for the District of Columbia—who placed the Los Angeles Times on notice.5 The bogus story died, however, when the president sent Ziegler out to assert that I had no advance knowledge of the Watergate bugging and to express “absolute and total confidence” in me.6

  March 27, 1973, the White House

  “Well, what is the situation today as to what Ziegler’s going to say?” Nixon asked when Haldeman arrived in the Oval Office.7 “We’ve had some new developments, and it keeps bouncing,” Haldeman replied; he reported that I was still at Camp David working on my “paper,” but I had learned that “Liddy spent yesterday at the grand jury. He took the Fifth Amendment all day.” Haldeman said Sirica was going to immunize Liddy to force him to talk, but Haldeman had been told “Liddy will still stonewall it and take contempt.” There was troubling news, too: “Bittman has now informed [the CRP lawyers] that Hunt is ready to fold and is now going to pull the plug. Curiously enough, Bittman is now very disturbed about that, because he’s the guy that gave Hunt the money,” Haldeman said, chuckling. “So he’s now an accessory.” The Hunt threat was still being “evaluated,” but even more problematic was the fact that “Magruder has sort of crumbled at the seams.” Because McCord had claimed I was aware of the Watergate break-in, I would be called to the grand jury, and my testimony would not jibe with Magruder’s. As a result, Magruder had told the CRP lawyers, aware they would tell others, that he had a new version of “what really happened on the Watergate.” He was claiming that the plan had been cooked up at the White House, that it was triggered when Gordon Strachan told him, “Haldeman has said that you cannot delay getting this operation started any longer. The president had ordered you to go ahead immediately, and you are not to stall anymore. You’re to get it done.” Haldeman reminded Nixon that Magruder was a good liar
: “He’s a hell of a convincing guy, as evidenced by how he got off on the Sirica trial.”

  “Well, Bob, let’s look at the actual facts there. Could that have happened?” the president asked. “No,” Haldeman assured him flatly. “Never?” the president quizzed. “I don’t believe so,” Haldeman responded. He said that Magruder wanted to meet with him and Mitchell and that I thought it a good idea, “to keep him on balance, but not rush right into having it.” Haldeman mentioned my concern about when “one guy blows and everybody starts to. Hunt’s going to lob all his stuff out. Magruder’s going to change his story and try to sell them on some other line, and we don’t know what—” When the president interrupted Haldeman to say he was surprised that Magruder was throwing it to the White House rather than to Mitchell, Haldeman explained that if he claimed Mitchell was involved, he could be incriminating himself and admitting to perjury. “How would he get out of that?” the president asked. Haldeman had no answer other than to suggest the possibility of Magruder’s being given immunity by Sirica to nail “the big boys.” Haldeman thought Sirica just might do it.

  Haldeman said he had not spoken with Mitchell about Magruder but felt he should come to Washington, and that they ought to meet with Magruder to “find out what the guy really is up to.” The president agreed. Haldeman added, “I mean, Magruder talked to Dean earlier yesterday, before [he talked to] the lawyers. At that time he was taking a totally different line, which convinces Dean that Magruder is a little psycho, or something. I mean, he’s playing a strange game, at least, because he said to Dean, ‘Geez, John, it’s a shame that that son of a bitch McCord has hauled you into this, because you and I both know you had absolutely nothing to do with it.”8 Magruder then turned around and not only pulled Haldeman into the Watergate break-in and bugging, but Strachan and the president as well. An alarmed Nixon asked, “Well, Jesus Christ. So suppose that charge is locked in there, then what does that mean? What would you say? What do we say about all that? Totally untrue?” Haldeman agreed, and added, “But this is the thing Dean has warned about, you know? He said, ‘You just got to face the fact that untrue charges are going to [be made]. And you may be able to defend yourself, but in the public eye, you may not.’”

  Haldeman then raised the issue of the president’s taking the initiative in dealing with Watergate, explaining, “Ehrlichman raised the point: if you do this, then at the same time you should take some specific steps yourself. You should suspend John Dean, because he’s been named. Simply say that obviously he is, with no implication of guilt—” Nixon interrupted, “I’d ask him to take a leave of absence?” Haldeman affirmed that, and reported that Ehrlichman also suggested suspending Pat Gray, whom over the weekend the president had decided to cut loose, and have Ehrlichman tell Gray to request his nomination be withdrawn. But the president did not like this thinking. “I’m not going to suspend anybody,” he injected, but acknowledged the problem. As the conversation came to a close, Haldeman also reported that “Rogers will argue you also ought to get rid of Kleindienst in that process.” This surprised the president.

  Nixon spent over two hours that morning and into the afternoon in the EOB office with Haldeman and Ehrlichman discussing Watergate, with Ron Ziegler briefly taking part.9 Ehrlichman said Watergate had become both debilitating and time consuming, not to mention difficult, because it involved “people we know.” The president noted that “whatever they did [was] with the best of intentions,” which he felt was “the sad thing about” Watergate. He added, “I don’t want people on the staff to divide up and say, ‘Well, it’s this guy that did it, or this guy that didn’t.’ The point is, what’s done is done.” Ehrlichman agreed but counseled that it was time to cut losses.

  Ziegler arrived seeking guidance for dealing with the question of White House staff going to the grand jury. The decision was made that he should continue to say the White House was prepared to cooperate but nothing more.

  Haldeman now reported information I had given him from Paul O’Brien, who was “very distressed with Mitchell,” because he felt Mitchell “could cut this whole thing off if he would just step forward.” Haldeman explained, “As far as O’Brien can determine, Mitchell did sign off on this thing, and Dean believes that to be the case also,” although neither thought they could prove it. O’Brien was concerned because others were getting “whacked around” to protect Mitchell. Haldeman repeated for Ehrlichman’s benefit Magruder’s latest, that Liddy’s “superintelligence operation was put together by the White House, by Haldeman, Dean and others.” Being finally candid, Haldeman admitted, “Now, there’s some semblance of validity to the point, that I did talk, not with Dean but with Mitchell, about the need for intelligence activity and—” Nixon added, “—and that Dean recommended Liddy?” Haldeman answered, “Yeah, but not for intelligence. Dean recommended Liddy as the general counsel.” Then reading from his notes of his conversation with me, Haldeman reported in detail Magruder’s latest claim that the president had been aware of it all, and then continued: “I didn’t realize it, but [bugging] was also in the Sandwedge [the operation proposed by Jack Caulfield] going way back, the early plan. That, incidentally, is a potential source of fascinating problems in that it involved Mike Acree, who’s now the customs commissioner, and [Rose Woods’s brother] Joe Woods, and a few other people.” Nixon injected, “Nothing happened,” as he knew from our March 21 conversation.

  Haldeman agreed, and continuing to read from his notes, reported that I had explained when screening Liddy to be general counsel that political intelligence would merely be incidental, although the campaign did need information on demonstrations (because the White House could not share the classified information we received). Then Haldeman told the president for the first time what had occurred at and after the second meeting in Mitchell’s office. “Dean came into the [second] meeting late, [and] he could see that they were still on the same kind of thing. And he said, in effect, I got Mitchell off the hook because I took the initiative in saying, ‘You know, it’s an impossible proposal and we can’t, we shouldn’t even be discussing this in the attorney general’s office.’ Mitchell agreed, and Dean came [back] and told me that he had seen this wrap-up on it, that they shouldn’t be doing it, that we shouldn’t be involved in it in any way, you know, drop the whole thing. And then Dean said, ‘I saw a problem there, and I thought they had turned it off, and in any event, I wanted to stay ten miles away from it, and did.’”

  Ehrlichman wanted to know how Liddy got the money, “since only Mitchell or Stans” could authorize the amounts Liddy had been given. Haldeman felt Mitchell had in fact signed off on it. As they proceeded Nixon asked if the lawyers O’Brien and Parkinson were involved, and Haldeman said only after June 17, 1972: “Dean has asked through O’Brien to see Maroulis, Liddy’s lawyer, for Liddy to provide a private statement saying that Dean knew nothing in advance on the Watergate, which Liddy knows to be the case. Dean would like to have that statement in his pocket and has asked Liddy’s lawyer to ask Liddy for such a statement, which he feels Liddy would want to give him.”* Haldeman said he had put the question to me of whether I had any knowledge of Liddy’s operation, and I had answered, “Absolutely nothing.” Nixon noted, “I would totally agree with that. I would believe Dean there, [because we asked him when there was no reason to lie] to us about that. But I would believe for another reason: That he thought it was a stupid God damned idea.” Ehrlichman added, “There just isn’t a scintilla of hint that Dean knew about this,” explaining “Dean was pretty good all through that period of time in sharing things, and he was tracking with a number of us on it.”

  The president did not think Colson knew in advance, because he was dealing with Colson extensively at the time, and “I think he would have said, ‘Look, we’ve gotten some information,’ but never a word.” Nor did Nixon have any indication that Haldeman or Ehrlichman had known. Nixon turned to the Ellsberg break-in and said, “I didn’t even know, frankly, that the, ah, the Ellsberg thing.�
�� He then added to Ehrlichman, “And I guess there you deliberately didn’t tell me?” Ehrlichman responded, “Well, sir, I didn’t know,” and claimed he had not learned about it until after it had taken place. “And I told you afterwards we stopped it from happening again in that setting, but, ah—” When the president asked if it was national security, Ehrlichman confirmed, “That was in the national security.”*

  • • •

  They next went through an interrogationlike drill with hypothetical questions about lines of defense, awareness of wiretapping, Hunt’s involvement with the Pentagon Papers—with Ehrlichman again denying knowledge of the Ellsberg break-in but adding a new detail from after he turned down the Liddy and Hunt proposal for another entry attempt in California: “Interestingly enough, Colson called me several times and remonstrated with me and tried to persuade me that they should go back in, and I said no.” He also reported, “Young and Krogh operated that whole operation. From the beginning, as a matter of fact, with the other leaks, and Krogh is very frank in saying, ‘I authorized this operation in Los Angeles, no two ways about it.’ He says, ‘If I am asked,’ he says, ‘that’s what I’ll say, and I’ll resign and leave the Department of Transportation and get out of town.’ He said, ‘I thought at the time we were doing the right thing and so forth.’ I don’t think he`ll have to. Number one, I don’t think Hunt will strike, but if he did,” Ehrlichman recommended, “I would put the national security tent over this whole operation.” Nixon agreed.