by Jo Haldeman
On March 1, the long wait is over.
I’m with Bob in his study when his phone rings. Although the conversation is brief, he takes notes. He winces slightly and avoids looking at me. I know that it can mean only one thing.
Slowly putting down the receiver, Bob says, “That was John Wilson. The grand jury just handed down seven indictments, and I’m one of them.”
I grip the back of the desk chair for support. I’ve had so much time to prepare myself for this moment, yet my knees feel as if they might buckle. “Oh, Bob…”
“The seven are—Mitchell, Ehrlichman, Colson, Strachan, Mardian, Parkinson, and me.”
“Who are Mardian and Parkinson?”
“Lawyers for the CRP. Each of us is charged with conspiring to obstruct justice.” Bob’s voice is controlled, matter-of-fact. “And then there are individual charges on top of that.”
“What are yours?” I’m not sure I really want to know.
“In addition to conspiracy to obstruct justice, mine are obstruction of justice and three counts of perjury.”
So many? What do these terms mean? What exactly did Bob do?
The phone rings. “It’s Wilson again,” Bob mouths. “I’ll fill you in on everything later.”
As I turn to leave, I look back. Everything in this room imparts memories of Washington. Most of all, Nixon’s inaugural quote. Today, the words blur as I try to make them out.
“Until he has been part of a cause larger than himself, no man is truly whole.”
The quote, which has always seemed so noble, sounds almost ordinary. Right now, I don’t even know what the cause is.
On my way downstairs, I stop to look out the window. Reporters and photographers are already assembling on our lawn. They remind me of sharks, milling around waiting for their prey. Bob joins me in the front hall. Reaching for the handle on the heavy oak front door, he says that Wilson told him that he should meet with the press. He is to answer all of their questions with, “no comment.”
Dressed in his standard khaki pants and rumpled button-down shirt, Bob doesn’t bother to change. He leaves Rufus inside with me and steps outside. The door closes behind him, momentarily separating his world from mine.
I can’t think straight, and random thoughts fill my brain. How can Bob possibly deal with the media right now? What are they asking him? Why didn’t he change his clothes? He looks so grubby. I hate those suede Wallabee shoes.
The door opens, a photographer’s flash goes off, and Bob steps back in. His shoulders sag, and his frumpy clothes make him look tired. I wrap my arms around him, and he holds me close. Neither of us says anything.
How did we ever reach this point? What on earth went wrong?
Bob returns to his study, and I don’t see much of him for the rest of the day. He’s on the phone constantly, but he promises to go over everything later with the children and me. I’m relieved to see how relaxed he is when he and Rufus finally make their appearance in the kitchen. He even starts making dipping sauces for the beef fondue we are having for dinner.
Hot oil pops in a small pot in the center of the breakfast table. Turning down the flame, Bob looks over at Peter, Ann, and me. “I’m sure you have lots of questions, but first I want to make one thing very clear. I believe that I am innocent. I have never knowingly done anything illegal or morally wrong.”
Bob stabs a piece of meat with a long fork and puts it in the hot oil. “You should also know that what the press calls a ‘cover-up’ and the grand jury calls a ‘conspiracy to obstruct justice,’ I have always considered ‘containment.’” He pauses to twist his fork in the oil and then continues. “The White House experienced many flaps besides the break-in, and it was my job to minimize any fallout. In this case, I worked to contain the fallout from Watergate. I don’t think that I ever broke any law, and I look forward to proving my innocence in court.”
“What about the specific charges against you?” Peter asks.
“I was indicted for obstructing justice and conspiring to obstruct justice,” Bob says. “The grand jury believes that I authorized the direction of money to the Watergate burglars and the destruction of evidence. This is based on John Dean’s claim that I told my assistant Gordon Strachan to destroy wiretap evidence—which is a flat-out lie. It’s also based on the fact that I authorized the transfer of three hundred fifty thousand dollars from a special fund in the White House to the Committee to Re-Elect the President—and that I participated in conversations about the burglars’ requests for money. The grand jury believes that I was aware of the payment of money out of that cash fund—which I was not. I am also charged with three counts of perjury.”
“So, they think that you lied, Dad?” Ann asks, helping herself to a mixture of horseradish and soy sauce.
“Perjury is knowingly making a false statement, which I absolutely did not do,” Bob explains. “I was determined to tell the truth at the Senate hearings, but it’s obvious to me now that in trying to reconstruct my notes on the March twenty-first tape, I got confused. I testified that the president said that it would be wrong to raise money for the Watergate burglars, when in fact he used those words in the context of granting them clemency. It was an accidental misstatement on my part. It was not intentional.”
“Why can’t you just explain that you made a mistake?” Ann questions.
“Because I was asked if I were sure that the president said it would be wrong to raise the money, and I told the senators that I was absolutely positive. The grand jury concluded that I had deliberately lied to mislead them. They also believe that I lied two other times. Once, when I testified that no one in the White House was aware that funds were being used to pay the burglars until March 1973. And another time, when I told the senators that I didn’t think there was any reference to Magruder’s committing perjury on the March twenty-first tape.”
Bob patiently answers our questions. He knows that the children and I are apprehensive about the future and scared at the thought of his going through a trial and possibly going to prison. In time, the flame goes out under the fondue pot, but no one wants to leave as long as Bob is talking. He explains that the next step will be his arraignment in a Washington court. The charges will be read, and he will enter a plea of not guilty. At that point, he will have to report to a probation officer and forfeit his passport. He tells us that a trial won’t be for several months. If he’s found guilty, the next step is an appeal process.
When I climb into bed later tonight, my head is spinning. Next to me, seemingly calm and confident as ever, Bob works on a crossword puzzle before turning off the light.
“Goodnight, Bob,” I say. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
◆
The repercussions are immediate. The media calls the grand jury’s action, “the most sweeping single indictment of former government officials in US history.” The Haldeman name is prominently featured in the news releases, and Bob’s mother pastes every story she sees into her growing scrapbook. Even with all the negative publicity, her faith in her son never falters. When he tells her that he plans to make a public statement, Non is thrilled.
On Monday, March 4, Bob holds a press conference on our front lawn. This time, he asks me how he looks before stepping out to meet with the reporters. Wearing gray slacks with a freshly ironed, white button-down shirt, plaid tie, and dark green blazer, he gets my wholehearted approval. His small American flag is in his left lapel.
As soon as the front door closes behind him, I dash upstairs to the landing where I can look down on the scene below. Grabbing Bob’s movie camera, I kneel on the window seat and press the lens against the leaded window to film the event. Rufus climbs up next to me, and a photographer takes a picture of the two of us peering out. It appears in the paper the next day along with Bob’s statement, “I’m completely proud and completely appreciative of the opportunity t
o serve under President Nixon, one of the greatest presidents this country has had.”
◆
On Saturday morning, March 9, Bob appears in the courtroom of Chief US District Judge John J. Sirica for his arraignment. Home alone, I think of him constantly and keep looking at the clock, wondering what’s happening.
The phone rings, and I rush to get it. “The whole process took less than five minutes,” Bob reports. “The seven of us were advised of our constitutional rights, the charges were read, and we all pleaded ‘not guilty.’”
“Oh, Bob…”
“The worst came after we left the courthouse. A lot of hippies were lining the sidewalk just waiting to heckle us. That was not pleasant. They booed us and carried signs saying, ‘Sieg Heil’ and ‘Throw away the keys.’”
It’s a vivid scene, and I can’t get it of my mind. The courthouse is only three blocks away from the White House, and yet the two are worlds apart.
When I hear that jury selection will begin six months from now, the thought of a trial is daunting. I have no idea what it will be like, and I fear the verdict. If Bob is found guilty, I’m told he could be fined $16,000 and face five years in prison for each of the five counts. Twenty-five years in prison… This is beyond anything I could ever imagine.
◆
Things continue to crumble around Nixon. So far, Haldeman, Ehrlichman, Mitchell, Colson, Mardian, Parkinson, and Strachan have been indicted. Dean, Magruder, and Segretti have pled guilty to various crimes. In New York, Mitchell and Stans are on trial for obstruction of justice and perjury in connection with political contributions. In Washington, Dwight Chapin is under indictment for perjury. I can hardly keep up with the names and cases. Some are good friends; others, I’ve never met. Some I feel sorry for; others, I’m not so sure. I empathize with most of them and their families.
In mid-March, it becomes public knowledge that the grand jury named the president as an unindicted coconspirator in the Watergate cover-up. Senator James Buckley of New York says he doesn’t see how Nixon can survive and calls for his resignation. The staunchly conservative Republican declares that an impeachment trial would turn the Senate into “a twentieth-century Roman Coliseum.”
Nixon doesn’t buckle under. In a press conference, he states, “While it might be an act of courage to run away from a job that you were elected to do, it also takes courage to stand and fight for what you believe is right, and that is what I intend to do…”
Bob rallies in support of the president. He’s adamantly opposed to Nixon’s quitting and shows me the short note he wrote to him. He quotes Pat Nixon’s words to her husband in 1962, when he was considering resigning from the Eisenhower ticket:
You can’t think of resigning. …if you, in the face of attack, do not fight back but simply crawl away, you will destroy yourself. Your life will be marred forever and the same will be true of your family, and particularly, your daughters.
In addition to the Watergate trial, Bob also has been named as a defendant in a slew of civil lawsuits:
The Socialist Workers Party is alleging that Mitchell, Ehrlichman, and Haldeman violated its rights through wiretapping and mail surveillance.
Jane Fonda is suing Nixon, Ehrlichman, and Haldeman for alleged violation of her rights through surveillance of her antiwar activities.
Morton Halperin, a former Kissinger aide, has filed a suit against Kissinger, Ehrlichman, and Haldeman, charging that his civil rights were violated through wiretapping.
Lastly, fourteen young people in Charlotte, North Carolina, have filed a suit against two advance men, the local police department, the Secret Service, and Haldeman. They claim that Bob instructed the security personnel at a Billy Graham rally to force out anyone they thought might demonstrate against the president.
Although the government picks up part of the tab on these civil suits, Bob still has to prepare for them and testify. This costs money, and with no income coming in, he proposes creating a defense fund. The thought of asking our friends for money disturbs me, and I disagree with the idea. It’s hard to argue with Bob, particularly under these circumstances, but this time I tell him how I feel.
Expletive Deleted
April 1974
In early April, Bob is asked to be a speaker at the annual gathering of the Young Presidents’ Organization University in Acapulco, Mexico. With a trial pending, he needs to get court approval to leave the United States. Permission is granted, but Bob’s not allowed to discuss Watergate or anything related to it.
“Half the people here simply want to see what he looks like and how he handles himself,” a YPO leader tells the press.
Governor Ronald Reagan of California gives the keynote address, and Bob’s talk is titled, “A Night with H. R. Haldeman.” Appearing on a panel afterward, he freely answers questions. When asked if he and President Nixon were ever “chums,” he responds, “No, but neither of us sought such a relationship or permitted it. It would have gotten in the way of an extremely good working relationship.”
Bob predicts that the president will come out of this ordeal stronger than ever. “Not only will he unify the people behind him, but he will regain his credibility.”
Bob’s unwavering support for the president clashes with the resentment that John Ehrlichman feels. In an article appearing in the Los Angeles Times, Kenneth Reich writes that John believes he was deceived by Bob and Nixon, both of whom knew about the installation of the White House taping system.
Seated at the breakfast table, Bob reads the article out loud, while I make Ann’s lunch for school. It pains me to hear that John has expressed “disenchantment with Nixon in private,” and that he has had “something of a falling-out with his longtime friend and colleague, former White House chief of staff H. R. Haldeman.”
“You know better than to believe everything in print, Jo,” Bob says. “The only thing that’s changed is that John and I both agree that we should each have our own lawyer. He’ll get someone else, and I’ll keep John Wilson and Frank Strickler.”
“Is John mad at you?” Ann asks, taking her lunch bag from the counter.
“He’s upset because he didn’t know about the tapes when we worked at the White House,” her father explains.
“Why didn’t you tell him?”
“The concern was that if John and others had known, it would have affected their conversations.”
“But you knew, Dad…and the president knew.”
“Actually, I forgot,” Bob says. “And I’m sure the president did, too. The tapes were for his personal use, and there was no need for anyone else to be aware of them. They were never meant to be made public.”
◆
The tapes continue to be a major issue. Following a request by the House Judiciary Committee for everything that’s relevant to Watergate, the White House announces that the president will respond with a major speech. On Monday night, April 29, Bob and I watch in the family room as Nixon tells the country that he’s turning over 1,200 pages of edited transcripts of private White House conversations. Pointing to several piles of bound folders on his left, he says that he realizes “these conversations will provide grist for many sensational stories in the press.”
Puzzled, I look over at Bob. He remains fixed on the president, who goes on to explain. “I have been reluctant to release these tapes, not just because they will embarrass me and those with whom I have talked—which they will—and not just because they will become the subject of speculation and even ridicule—which they will—and not just because certain parts of them will be seized upon by political and journalistic opponents—which they will. I have been reluctant because in these and in all the other conversations in this office, people have spoken their minds freely, never dreaming that specific sentences…would be picked out as the subjects of national attention and controversy. …Never before in the history of the presidency have records that a
re so private been made so public.”
When the speech is over, I feel defeated. In his third major speech on Watergate, the president has stated that there’s reason to be concerned about what’s on the tapes.
“Are you worried, Bob?” I ask.
“Nope,” he says.
In the days following the release of the transcripts, I think about Bob’s complacency. The media jumps right in, and soon snippets of conversations are being quoted out of context. These are candid and at times offensive. The term “expletive deleted” appears occasionally, leaving a lot to speculation.
Several major pro-Nixon newspapers call for the president’s resignation in their editorials, while others go as far as endorsing his impeachment. Even the minority leader in the Senate, Republican Senator Hugh Scott, describes the White House discussions as, “deplorable, shabby, disgusting, and immoral.” Joseph Alsop, a columnist usually friendly to the president, compares the atmosphere in the Oval Office to “the back room of a second-rate advertising agency in a suburb of hell.”
It’s disheartening to hear these descriptions coming from pro-Nixon supporters, and I’m embarrassed as I read portions of the transcripts. I worry about the effect of the “expletive deleted’s” on other family members. Mother and Dad hide their discomfort by never mentioning the tapes or the transcripts. Non remains proud of her son and has no trouble defending the conversations. The children never bring up the subject.
Clearly frustrated, Bob says, “Look, Jo, Kennedy and Johnson taped conversations in the White House, and I can assure you that they didn’t sound any different from ours. It’s the way men talk. These were private discussions never meant to be made public.”
Seeing my doubtful expression, he continues, “If only you and everyone else could listen to the hours and hours of tapes where the president discussed national and international affairs, then you’d see how truly presidential he can be. Unfortunately, these transcripts deal only with Watergate. In them, you see us at our absolute worst. We were in the middle of a major crisis, and we were floundering.”
