Sarge: The Life and Times of Sargent Shriver

by Scott Stossel

  Lyndon Johnson got wind of these Republican overtures to Saigon and ordered the FBI to tap Anna Chennault’s phone, on the grounds of national security. On November 2, the phone tap registered a call from Chennault to Thieu in which she told him that if he resisted coming to the negotiating table until after the election, Nixon would give them a more favorable settlement. Thieu asked her if Nixon knew she was calling him. He does not, she said, but “our friend in New Mexico does.” Spiro Agnew was in Albuquerque that day.

  The evidence is clear. In short, Richard Nixon secretly tried to derail the Vietnam peace process in order to win the 1968 election. Thus the charges Shriver would level four years later were—despite Nixon’s vociferous disavowals and the opprobrium his people heaped on Shriver—substantially correct. Whether Nixon’s machinations actually “blew” the chance for peace in 1968 is debatable. Thieu may well have decided to back away from the talks even absent Nixon’s pressure. But the key points here are two: First, Nixon intended to “blow” the peace (as Shriver would allege in 1972) and took unethical steps in order to carry out that intention. Second, Thieu’s decision to pull back from the negotiations at the eleventh hour, whatever caused him to do so, was the crucial determining factor in the outcome of the 1968 election.

  On November 5, 1968, Richard Nixon defeated Hubert Humphrey by less than one percentage point of the popular vote (43.40 to 42.72 percent), a matter of less than half a million votes out of 75 million votes cast nationwide. In electoral terms, the margin was greater: Nixon won thirty-two states for 302 electoral votes compared with Humphrey’s thirteen states (and the District of Columbia) for 191 votes and Wallace’s five states for 45 votes. Given that the combination of the racial demagogue Wallace and the Republican Nixon together beat Humphrey by 56.9 percent to 42.7 percent, the 1968 election can be viewed as a repudiation of Johnson’s Great Society. Racial unrest, the riots of 1967 and 1968, the Vietnam War, the unfulfilled expectations of the War on Poverty, and the chaos at the Chicago convention—all had combined to curdle much of the idealism that had prevailed as recently as three years earlier.

  And yet it is not so hard to imagine that the 1968 election might have turned out differently. Consider, first, that Humphrey lost Illinois. With Shriver, whom Illinois could plausibly claim as a native son, Humphrey would likely have won that state, instantly narrowing the electoral margin to 276 to 217. Consider, second, that many of the Catholic and ethnic voters who had been so crucial to the Democrats’ victory in 1960 now switched their allegiance to Nixon in 1968. Muskie, of course, was a Catholic. But if the Humphrey ticket had included Shriver—as Catholic layman of the year he was “more Catholic” than Muskie—the Catholic defection to Nixon would not have been so substantial. A few thousand more votes among the Catholic Poles of Milwaukee, say, or among the German Catholics of Cincinnati—and Wisconsin and Ohio might have swung into the Democrats’ column. A switch in those three states alone would have given Humphrey a razor’s-edge victory. (Polls also showed that Shriver fared better than Muskie head to head against Agnew among all voters, not just Catholics.)

  Moreover, by far the most pressing issue on most voters’ minds was the war in Vietnam. If the peace talks had succeeded, as seemed possible in late October—or if Shriver had been selected and carried through with his plan to hold out an olive branch to the peace protesters, backed by the authority of the negotiators themselves, Vance and Harriman—who knows how many additional votes might have gone Humphrey’s way?

  Most important, Humphrey had wanted Shriver on the ticket for largely the same reason he had wanted Ted Kennedy on the ticket. After the deaths of Jack and Bobby, many American voters were hungry for another Kennedy—not a Restoration, per se, but a reminder of what the New Frontier had been like before 1965, before hope and optimism had withered. Yet when Kennedy withdrew himself, Humphrey had to do without the assistance of the “Kennedy mystique.” How many votes would that mystique have been worth? Did the Kennedys, through their efforts to maintain the line of succession and to wreak vengeance on Shriver for his decision to go to Paris, give victory to Nixon?

  It’s impossible to say for sure. Counterfactual history is necessarily shot through with conjecture; rare is the alternate path that can be deemed as true to the dictates of historical forces as what actually happened. Still, it is tempting—and poignant—to think about how vastly different the last years of the twentieth century would have been had a Humphrey-Shriver ticket triumphed over Nixon-Agnew in 1968.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  Nixon in Paris

  However bitter and disappointed Shriver may have been at the Democrats’ defeat, and at his own fate, he didn’t show it for long. He and Ted Kennedy quickly mended fences—Teddy, as always, was warm and cordial toward him—and Shriver threw himself back into winning the hearts and minds of the French.

  Still, he kept casting sidelong glances at American politics. Should he run for the Eighth Congressional District in Maryland? Senator in Illinois? As avidly as he and his friends followed the domestic scene, they were all caught unawares by the opportunity that materialized in December 1968.

  After winning the election in November, Richard Nixon had declared that, as an expression of bipartisanship, he would select at least one Democrat to serve in his cabinet. (There had been two prominent Republicans—Robert McNamara and Douglas Dillon—in President Kennedy’s.) At the beginning of December, president-elect Nixon called Shriver in Paris and asked him if he would fly to Washington for a meeting, to talk about the position of ambassador to the United Nations. (Hubert Humphrey, after some deliberation, had declined to take the position.) Shriver said he would and made arrangements to fly to the United States on December 7.

  Before taking off, however, he placed phone calls to advisers and prominent Democrats—including Bill Moyers, Senator William Fulbright, Dean Rusk, Lyndon Johnson, Hubert Humphrey, and Ted Kennedy—and asked for meetings with each of them to discuss the matter. In 1963 and 1964 Shriver had had no qualms about staying on under Lyndon Johnson after President Kennedy had died. It was one Democratic president succeeding another and, no matter what Bobby Kennedy might say, Shriver believed that continuing to serve was a matter of patriotic duty. Accepting President Johnson’s appointment to France after his brother-in-law had declared he was running in opposition to Johnson’s foreign policy, Shriver knew, was a bit more complicated. Nevertheless, he didn’t hesitate to accept the appointment, believing he was serving his country (and at the same time escaping the LBJ-RFK crossfire). But joining a Republican administration, where, as the token Democrat (and the token “Kennedy”), he might be used as political cover for all manner of nefarious policies, was different. Shriver had considerable misgivings.

  Still, his interest was piqued. The United Nations was an institution he respected, and he wondered if maybe he couldn’t expand the traditional UN ambassador’s job into something more Shriveresque. It would also keep him in the public eye while he contemplated other political opportunities.

  Shriver flew into New York on the evening of Saturday, December 7, and the following morning he continued on to Washington to have breakfast with Henry Kissinger, the Harvard professor of foreign relations whom Nixon had recently decided would be his national security adviser. Shriver had decided that, before he took any position, he would need not only to secure the approval of the Democratic establishment but also to get a sense from Nixon’s team of how much latitude he would have as UN ambassador. Perhaps surprisingly, Shriver and Kissinger got along quite well. Shriver was generally straightforward, even ingenuous, in a way that tended to make intellectuals suspect that he wasn’t that smart or sophisticated. Kissinger, famed for his brilliance and his Machiavellian mind, prized secrecy and indirection. Yet the two men shared a disdain for the existing foreign service bureaucracy and an admiration for men who could get things done effectively. Shriver and Kissinger each decided he could work with the other.

  Later in the day Shriver met with Sec
retary of State Rusk and President Johnson. Rusk warned him that the UN job could be frustrating—far more symbolic than powerful—but said he was in favor of Shriver accepting the position. LBJ also warned that the job lacked real power—“Gawd, Sarge,” Johnson said at one point, “that is the worst fucking job in the world”—but ultimately advised that Shriver accept it.

  After meeting with the president, Shriver called on the president-elect in his suite at the Hotel Pierre in New York City. As expected, Nixon offered him the position of UN ambassador. But the meeting was a strange one. Shriver had had reservations about Nixon ever since he had first met him at Jack and Eunice’s Georgetown townhouse in 1948. At that first meeting, Nixon had reminded him of a boxer, always feinting and weaving. More recently, Shriver had entertained suspicions about Nixon’s role in the derailment of the Paris peace talks. So he entered his meeting with Nixon warily but with an open mind, hoping to discover in the man some presidential timber.

  He didn’t find any. A few hours later, Shriver met Bill Josephson for drinks. “Generally [Sarge] is expansive in describing events,” Josephson recorded shortly afterward. But Shriver was not at all effusive about his meeting with Nixon. “Mainly,” Josephson noted, “Sarge concentrated on the personal impression Nixon had made on him. It seemed to me that Sarge had gone in hoping he would find something in Nixon to like and had come away unsatisfied. He talked about how Nixon appeared to have no real personality and about how insecure Nixon seemed to be, to the point where Sarge noticed Nixon studying Sarge’s suit and tie intently as if feeling ill at ease and comparing Sarge’s taste to his own.”

  Both Johnson and Rusk had reminded Shriver of how much trouble there had been between the UN ambassador and the secretary of state when both men were from the same party. (Under JFK, for instance, Dean Rusk and Adlai Stevenson had always been butting heads.) Imagine how difficult the relationship would be when the two men were from different parties. “That’s a good point,” Nixon said when Shriver mentioned that concern. He gazed out the hotel window for a few moments, appearing to study the people below. “I think the only solution is for you to meet with my secretary of state and make a resolution about how your relationship should be. If you two think you can get along together and you can explain it to me and to the public, then everything will be fine.” Nixon told Shriver in confidence that he was going to name William Rogers, who had served briefly as Eisenhower’s attorney general, as his secretary of state.

  The next morning Shriver met secretly with Rogers. He was wary going into this meeting. Nixon himself, according to Kissinger, believed Rogers to be “one of the toughest, most cold-eyed, self-centered, and ambitious men he had ever met.”

  On the basis of his discussions with LBJ, Rusk, Moyers, and Josephson, Shriver decided to make his acceptance of the UN ambassadorship conditional on his being granted power, latitude, and access unprecedented for the position. To Shriver’s surprise, Rogers agreed to all his conditions.

  Shriver then continued his tour of consultations with prominent Democrats, meeting first with Senator Fulbright, the chair of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee. Fulbright told him, “we have only one government and we have—unfortunately—only one President,” so you might as well take the position. Shriver then met for two hours with Vice President Humphrey. Humphrey told Shriver that had he not just lost a campaign for the presidency, he himself would have taken the UN position when Nixon offered it to him. Having run for president, Humphrey said he felt he needed to help rebuild the Democratic Party, which precluded his accepting the ambassadorship. But he saw no reason why Shriver shouldn’t take it.

  So far, every Democrat Shriver had spoken to had been in favor of his taking the position. But he had yet to speak to the most crucial Democrat. All day, Shriver’s friend Bill Mullins, a former colleague from the Peace Corps and the OEO, had been on the phone with Ted Kennedy’s office, trying to set up a meeting between Shriver and the senator before Shriver flew back to Paris. Finally, word came that Kennedy was himself meeting with Nixon but would meet with Shriver at National Airport before Shriver flew back to Paris.

  The brothers-in-law greeted each other warmly, then retired to a small private room provided by one of the airlines. Shriver outlined for Kennedy what he thought the pros and cons of taking the UN position were and briefly summarized the counsel of the other leading Democrats. Then he got to the point: Please tell me “unambiguously and honestly,” he entreated Ted, if you feel that by accepting the post I will be involving you and Eunice too intimately with the Nixon administration. If you feel that I would be, Shriver said, I will decline the position. No need to make up your mind right now, but call me when you’ve decided.

  Back in France, Shriver began preparations to leave his post in Paris. He asked Moyers and Josephson to prepare a press release and speech to accompany the announcement of his appointment as UN ambassador. He also had them prepare a draft of the remarks he hoped Nixon would make when announcing the appointment, clarifying that Shriver had received the blessing of the Democratic leadership before accepting the new post and laying out what the extent of his authority and responsibilities would be. Sometime in the early afternoon, Ted Kennedy called Shriver at the embassy.

  What’s your decision? Shriver asked. Should I do this? Kennedy responded that he thought Shriver had analyzed all the pros and cons of the situation very astutely, but he declined to take a position one way or the other. A few hours later, Shriver called his brother-in-law back. Before I make a decision, he said, I really want your opinion. Kennedy still declined to take a position. According to Shriver’s notes of the conversation, the senator called it “a purely personal decision. That’s where I’ll come out: You must weigh all aspects and decide for yourself whether you’re doing the right thing.”

  Shriver replied, “Well, when Eunice and I decide, I’m going to telephone you back. I want to be sure that our step—my step—is not going to be an irritant or be looked on as a ‘sell-out’ by you or by Ethel or anyone else.” Kennedy never did take a clear position. But, by circling around the issue, Shriver later observed, his brother-in-law had made it implicitly clear that he was opposed to Shriver’s taking the UN job.

  The New York Times and the Washington Post, meanwhile, were already reporting that Shriver was going to be named. He sent Nixon his list of conditions.

  Late in the afternoon of December 11, Nixon called the embassy, and he and Shriver spoke for about half an hour. (A Shriver aide listened in and recorded the conversation.) Shriver began by saying that he had given a great deal of thought to Nixon’s offer and was “very enthusiastic” about the opportunity and particularly interested in working through the UN to develop more multilateral agreements of various sorts. Nixon said he was amenable to that. Shriver then said that he had discussed some points with Rogers that he and Nixon had not discussed when they met in Washington. “I just want to bring them up with you now,” Shriver said, “to make sure there is a meeting of the minds between us.”

  Shriver went through his list of conditions item by item (control over all of America’s UN personnel; selection of the assistant secretary of state for international affairs; and supervisory control over specialized UN agencies) and found Nixon amenable to all of them. When Shriver asked for status in the State Department equivalent to that held by the under secretary of state, Nixon replied, “As you can see, Rogers is not doctrinaire. I’m confident that this can be worked out between you and him.” When Shriver asked to be able to report directly to the secretary of state, rather than to an assistant secretary, Nixon said, “I’ll get Rogers on the phone to you, and I’ll tell him this is what I’m trying to do. I want you and Rogers to reach a firm agreement which gives the UN ambassador that status. Otherwise, you are just going [to have a job where all you do is] read speeches.” Nixon also agreed to allow Shriver to have full cabinet status and to have him sit in on all National Security Council meetings.

  Finally, Shriver brought up the eff
ect his departure from Paris would have on relations with de Gaulle. “Just say you had to choose between France and the UN,” Nixon said. “I would like you to tell de Gaulle that I’m vitally interested in continuing improving relations with France. You should say that the decision was very difficult for you and for me, that we talked for a long time but felt this larger forum is where you are needed.” It was agreed that Shriver would stay in Paris until the end of the Johnson administration.

  The deal seemed set. But when Shriver spoke to Rogers, he got the impression that the secretary of state–designate was backtracking from his original commitments. So Moyers sent Rogers a draft of the speech he and Josephson had written for Nixon, because it included, in Moyers’s words, a “rough outline of the important features which mean something to Sarge and which he related to us as being the basis of his understanding with the President-Elect.” Emphasizing Shriver’s desire to be something more than “Democratic window-dressing on the shelf of Mr. Nixon’s cabinet,” Moyers conveyed to Rogers “the hope that the language of the announcement will create the impression of substance and lead to his playing a role that will be more than superficial.”

  Everything was in place. The next day Shriver cabled President Johnson and Secretary Rusk, saying that everyone he had spoken to had “encouraged me to take the post from viewpoint of our party as well as of service to the country.” In addition, Shriver said, “I have negotiated agreement with new secstate and with president-elect under terms of which all perquisites and powers of UN ambassadorship will be retained and for several reasons enhanced. For the above reasons and with the hope and trust that I can count upon your support … I have accepted the offer and my appointment will be announced tomorrow.” Shriver also met with President de Gaulle, informing him that he would be leaving Paris for the UN.