“Well, I think Kleindienst is misinformed,” I replied evenly.
Haldeman finally sat up. “John, we’ll see what we can find out about this. In the meantime, I want you to keep that damn list to yourself.”
“All right,” I said. The meeting broke up with no farewells. I drove home, thinking of Ehrlichman’s meeting with Magruder. If Magruder agreed to plead guilty and testify against Mitchell on the break-in, as I thought he might, Ehrlichman would not worry so much about the cover-up message I had just delivered; its impact would be diluted in hopes that Mitchell’s demise would end Watergate. I felt relieved about rattling the cage with Haldeman and Ehrlichman on the cover-up, but also concerned that I might have severed my White House ties so cleanly as to encourage Ehrlichman to try to implicate me in the break-in. At home, I hid from our guests and pulled out the Scotch bottle.
Charlie called late that night. “John, I just got a call from Glanzer!” he shouted. “Everything’s falling apart. Those goddam guys are breaching our agreement!”
I felt a chill. “What do you mean?”
“Well, Magruder went in there and gave them a case against Mitchell, along with your evidence. And they’ve got the U.S. attorney, and they’re going to tell Petersen what we’ve been talking about. Tonight!”
“Oh, shit! Are they going to say I was in there meeting with them?”
“Yep.”
“Are they going to tell Petersen about the goddam cover-up?”
“That’s what Glanzer says. Everything. And then a whole pack of them are going to troop over to Kleindienst’s house in the wee hours.”
“Goddammit, Charlie, they promised us!”
“I know. I’ve reminded Glanzer of that several times, but there’s nothing I can do.”
“Goddammit, Charlie! They can’t do that! Do they think they have a case on the cover-up yet?”
“Hell, no, they don’t have a case yet! Seymour says they just can’t sit on what they have anymore.”
“Jesus Christ! The President will know all this by morning. And I tell you what’s going to happen. Ehrlichman’s going to go in there, and the President’s going to say, ‘Goddam Dean. He’s a fucking rat!’ And he’ll close ranks with Haldeman and Ehrlichman. And there won’t be any cover-up case, except maybe against me!”
“I know,” said Charlie. “You don’t have to tell me. Seymour thinks they may already have a case against you on the break-in.”
“I’ll bet. Listen, Charlie. You’ve got to call Glanzer back and get him to hold off on this thing! Especially my story to them on the cover-up! Tell them to hold off. Tell them they don’t understand what they’re doing. Tell them to wait just forty-eight hours! I’ve got to tell the President about this first. I’ve got to give him a chance to get away from this thing. Otherwise we’ll just have a brand-new cover-up at a higher level, and I’ll be the goddam scapegoat!”
“Okay. Okay. I’ll try. Sit tight.”
I prowled like a cat, and drank, until Charlie called back five minutes later. “It’s no use,” he sighed. “They’ve already started the ball rolling. The best I could do was to arrange another meeting with them tomorrow.”
“Goddammit, Charlie. I don’t want to meet with those bastards.”
“Listen, John, we don’t have any choice,” Charlie said firmly. “The cat’s out of the bag. We’ve got to pump them full of the cover-up now. I’ve got to up the ante with them to have a shot at immunity. That’s your only chance not to be the fall guy.”
I argued with Charlie for a few more minutes, then gave up. When he hung up, I raced through some calculations and then called the White House operator. I asked for Rose Woods. The operator said she would have to call me back. I planned to tell Rose that I had an urgent matter to take up with the President. I couldn’t call the President directly, because the call would automatically be routed through Haldeman. Maybe Woods would be understanding. She had been no fan of Haldeman’s ever since he tried to remove her as the President’s private secretary.
The phone rang and I leaped to answer it. The operator told me Rose Woods could not be reached temporarily, because she was at a funeral in Pittsburgh. I left a message to have her call me, saying it was urgent. There was no other way to reach the President. By three in the morning I had drunk myself to sleep.
I drove to Charlie’s office the next day; adrenalin bathed away my hangover. “I think your strategy of getting immunity is more important than ever now,” I told him. “Ehrlichman and Haldeman are sure as hell going to deny ever talking to me about anything, and I’m going to be out there alone. Now, look. You said we have to up the ante, and I’ve brought something to do it with.” I opened my briefcase, took out a copy of the Huston Plan and handed it to Charlie.
He stared at the marking on the cover—“Top Secret: Handle via COMINT Channel Only.” “What the hell does that mean?” he asked.
“It’s a classification a couple of steps higher than Top Secret. It means you have to have official couriers carry it around in locked briefcases and stuff like that.”
Charlie handed the document back to me with a look of disapproval. “I don’t want to see this,” he said. “Look, John, we agreed not to get into national-security matters. I’m willing to play rough for you, but I’m not going to get myself prosecuted for receiving stuff like this without a clearance. And I’m sure those bastards in the White House would love to shove it to me. I’m a Kennedy Democrat, and I bet they’ll figure I put you up to all this.”
“Okay. I just wanted you to know that national security is like executive privilege. It’s vague, and you can use it for anything. Because I’m going to tell you another thing that’s considered national security at the White House. Hunt, Liddy and those same Cubans who’re in jail broke into Daniel Ellsberg’s psychiatrist’s office out in California. They wanted to get some dirt on Ellsberg to destroy him in the press. How’s that?”
Charlie stopped and put his cigar down. “Who knew about that?”
“Well, Bud Krogh told me he approved it,” I replied, “but Bud works for Ehrlichman and I’m sure it’s an Ehrlichman operation. That’s what everybody who knows about it assumes, including John Mitchell.” *
“So that’s why Ehrlichman carried so much water for Mitchell in the cover-up,” Charlie said in excitement. “I confess I wondered about your story on that, John, since the two of them hate each other so much. Now it makes sense.”
“That’s one of the reasons, Charlie.”
“Christ, I don’t need any more now. I’ve got to figure out how to lay this one on Earl and Sy before they get here.”
“Well, I have something else on that one.” I explained about the CIA pictures of Liddy in front of Dr. Fielding’s office in the Justice Department’s Watergate files.
Charlie put his cigar down again in amazement. “Does Petersen know about this break-in?” he asked.
“I don’t know, Charlie,” I said. “I never asked him. If he knew, it would just put him on the spot. If he didn’t, I didn’t want to volunteer it. It’s been in the files since last July, and most people are curious about stuff from CIA. I figured Henry didn’t have it investigated. You know, he put limits on the investigation—Watergate only—and Liddy wasn’t standing in front of the Watergate in that picture. I doubt he knows much about it.”
“Well, these prosecutors soon will,” said Charlie. “You have an obligation to report this to the government. Otherwise you’re going to be involved in a continuing obstruction of justice. We should do that this afternoon.”
“What do you mean? I don’t really understand, Charlie.”
“Ellsberg’s on trial right now. The government has information in its possession that could affect the outcome of that trial, and your not reporting it could be construed as an obstruction.”
The prosecutors arrived, and Charlie quickly began a pacing lecture to them on their breach of our agreement. He was much tougher than he’d been before. He told them they had panic
ked; he called their honor into question. Silbert and Campbell just listened, but Glanzer began to argue.
“Look, Charlie,” he interrupted, “we had an obligation to inform Petersen. And he had to brief the Attorney General. Who do you think we all work for? I didn’t like doing it. But, dammit, you understand why we had to do it as well as I do. You would have done the same thing.”
“Bullshit I would. When I make an agreement, I stick by it.”
“We informed you beforehand, and we never promised that we would never report on our meetings with Dean,” Glanzer continued, annoyed with Charlie’s manner.
“Well, we had a damn good reason for not wanting to have that information reported to Petersen,” Charlie retorted. “Now you’ve not only made it more difficult for us but you’ve hurt your own chances of making a case.”
“Charlie, I’m tired of hearing about this great obstruction case your client is supposed to have for us,” Glanzer argued. “His story is jumbled and disjointed. We can’t do anything with what he’s told us. Why haven’t you brought us a straight, chronological statement of his evidence? Why haven’t you given us something we can really sink our teeth into? Like lists of when he found things out, and corroborating witnesses, and supporting documents? If we had had stuff like that, maybe we could have reconsidered.”
“You guys,” Charlie said, walking in front of them, “remind me of a bunch of horses going to the starting gate. You want to run before the bell is sounded. We plan to take this thing one step at a time. And I’m not even sure if my client wants to cooperate with you anymore.” Shaffer was beginning to escalate his negotiating leverage. He moved about his office, raising and lowering his voice, pointing fingers and pounding tables, letting them know that they should not expect any picnic in dealing with him. Earl Silbert watched him carefully and then started smiling and shaking his head. Charlie turned to him and asked, “What are you smiling about, Brother Silbert?”
Earl kept grinning. “Charlie, you’re something else. I’ve heard about you for years, and I can see that everything I’ve heard is true.”
“Thank you,” said Charlie with a slight bow. He seemed pleased by the compliment, and then he was spurred on to even greater performance. “I need everything I’ve got to get through to you guys. Sometimes I don’t think you listen to me. Now, I’m about to send you another little signal about what my man knows. But before he tells you, I want to say it is probably going to be labeled some kind of national-security thing. I’m not sure what that means, but I do know it’s sure as hell related to this case. It’s almost as important to this cover-up I’ve been throwing at you the last week as the Watergate break-in itself. I don’t want to get into too many specifics, but I’m instructing my client to tell you about it right now. Someday you guys are going to learn how little you know, and how much my client knows, about this cover-up at the White House. Go ahead, John.”
I prepared myself while Charlie sat down. “The Department of Justice has in its Watergate files,” I began, “information pointing to the fact that there was a break-in at the offices of Daniel Ellsberg’s psychiatrist. His name is Dr. Fielding. Charlie doesn’t want me to get into details now, but it shouldn’t be hard to find.” I paused and turned to Silbert, who was a friend of Bud Krogh’s. “And, Earl, when you learn who’s involved in this, you’re going to be as upset as I am in telling you. He is a mutual friend of ours, and I’m sure he’ll tell you the truth about it.”
“Come on, Charlie,” said Glanzer impatiently. “Quit playing games with us. What’s this all about? And what the hell’s it doing in our files?”
“My man’s got a lot to say to you fellows today, but not anything more on that little gem,” Charlie replied. “I want you guys to learn that when we tell you something, it’s right. When we send you signals, they mean something.”
“We’re working on a case, Charlie,” said Silbert. “I don’t see the relevance or significance of this.”
“You don’t see the significance?” Charlie asked sarcastically, shaking his head in exaggerated bewilderment. “Do I have to teach you guys the law too? Have you read Berger versus U.S. recently? It deals with a prosecutor’s duty of fair play in conducting a fair trial. If you fellows want to obstruct justice, that’s your business. We’ve met our obligation by informing you. But I suggest you go back, look around in your files for what my man has told you, read a few lawbooks, and then come back and tell me you don’t understand the significance.” Charlie paused and shook his head to dismiss the subject.* “Enough on that. Now, John, let’s give them another dose of cover-up. Let’s go heavy on the money this time. We’ve already got everybody introduced. Why don’t you start with the meeting when Kalmbach dropped out and LaRue came in?”
I rambled on through the cover-up for several hours. Mo called a few times to tell me the White House operator was looking for me. As I had asked her, Mo had not said where I was. Charlie made me keep going until the late afternoon, when the prosecutors had to leave.
I called the White House when I arrived home, hoping I’d heard from Rose Woods. Ehrlichman came on the line instead. “Hi, John. Could you come over and see me for a little bit?” he asked in a solicitous tone. “I’m going back to the office. I hate to disrupt your evening, but I sure would like to chat.”
“I guess so, John,” I replied coldly, thinking the bastard would probably try to set me up. I called Charlie, who advised me not to see him. I tried to reach Woods again. Still out of town. I thought for a long while and then scribbled a note on a pad. I called Higby.
“Larry, I want you to take down a message,” I said authoritatively. “I know this is unusual, but it’s important. Are you ready? Okay. This is for Haldeman, Ehrlichman and the President.” I stared at the pad. “‘I do not think it appropriate for me to meet with Ehrlichman at this time. I would like very much to meet with the President, if it isn’t inconvenient for him. I want him to know I am not being disloyal. I suggest that the President turn to Henry Petersen for advice.’ That’s the message, Larry. Got that?” Higby said yes and hung up.
Mo and her house guest tried to persuade me to join them for dinner at a local Alexandria restaurant, but I was watching my world dissolve and I thought I’d better stay home. They had been gone only long enough for me to be fixing myself a first drink when the phone rang. I froze. It was probably the President. I was tired and I didn’t really want to face him. I let it ring, thinking I could hide. Soon the ringing stopped.
I carried my drink to our bedroom, plopped down in the easy chair, lit a cigarette, and was about to take a sip when the phone began to ring again. Simultaneously, the red White House signal-line telephone also began ringing. Long rings. I let them go on and on, but the operators were not going to give up this time. I couldn’t believe they’d let the phone ring thirty times. It was as if they knew I was sitting there, staring at the phones, counting the rings. They won. I picked up the phone. The operator said the President wanted me to come to his EOB office. I said I’d be there in thirty minutes.
I dreaded this meeting with the President. I was embarrassed that he had doubtless learned that I had turned to the prosecutors before I had told him. For years, the President’s office had been the place I most wanted to be. Now it was the last place on earth I wanted to go.
At nine-fifteen, on Sunday, April 15, a Secret Service agent outside the President’s Executive Office Building office told me to go right in. I found the President seated in his easy chair in the far corner of his large office, both feet up on the ottoman. He had on what appeared to be a smoking jacket. As I sat down near him, on one of the conference-table chairs, I was close enough to notice a smell of liquor on his breath. He seemed exhausted. His usually neatly creased trousers looked as if he had slept in them, and his necktie was stained. This was not the well-manicured Richard Nixon I was used to.
“Would you like something to drink? Scotch? Martini? Anything?” he asked. The President had never before offered me a dri
nk.
“No, thank you, sir.”
“Come on, you’ll surely have something?” It was almost an order and I didn’t feel I could refuse it.
“I’ll have a Coke, thank you.” He buzzed his valet, told him I would have a Coke, he would have coffee.
When the valet left, I told the President what was bothering me. “Mr. President, I don’t know if you’ve been told, but I have talked with the prosecutors …”
“Yes, Kleindienst and Petersen were here to see me today.”
“Uh, well, I wanted to tell you I was going to the prosecutors. I hoped to tell you before you learned from somebody else. And, uh, I didn’t feel when I went to them that I was doing it out of any disloyalty to you, I assure you, Mr. President. I hope someday you’ll know I was being loyal to you when I did this. I, uh, felt it was the only way to end the cover-up. And so I thought I had to tell them what I knew, Mr. President, and now I think you’re in a position where you can step out in front of it.”
The President was nodding affirmatively. He seemed quite friendly. “I understand, John,” he said. “I want you to know I understand.” He paused. Maybe it will work, I thought. “I’d kind of like to review some of these problem areas that have come up. I’d like to go over them a little bit with you.” He looked down at the legal pad on his lap. “For example, let’s get into a little bit of this money problem. I’m trying to sort it out, you understand. Let’s take Ehrlichman. What’s Ehrlichman’s involvement in that?”
“Well, Mr. President, both Bob and John guided me in this area every inch of the way. I went to John after Mitchell asked for help on the funds, and I asked John if he thought it was all right to use Kalmbach. I went to him several times, and he approved. Both John and Bob. That’s what they did. Uh, they saw the need for it, and then I went to Kalmbach.”
The President nodded. “I understand. Now, what about Petersen? How deep is Henry in this thing?”
This question surprised me. I hesitated before answering. Maybe the President just wanted to make sure Petersen was impartial enough to be his counsel on the matter, as I had suggested. On the other hand, maybe the President was probing for evidence of Petersen’s own involvement, to use it as leverage to keep Henry from pursuing the cover-up. I was between suspicion and hope. I thought the President was, too. “Well, Mr. President, uh, as I’ve told you, Henry kept me posted on this thing. He did tell me at one point, for example, that Magruder had made it through the grand jury ‘by the skin of his teeth.’ But I don’t think Henry would be what you’d call deep into the thing. I think he’s well aware of the problem areas. And I think that you could well take your counsel from him. He knows all the ramifications, and I think he’s the best man to help protect you.”
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