RN

by Richard Nixon

  Agnew denied the story to the effect that he was appalled by the way Watergate was being handled by the President. Agnew was apparently concerned about some grand jury investigation in Maryland which could involve one of his people and some very damaging memoranda apparently of conversation with Agnew with regard to contributors prior to the time they got state contracts. Of course this is a common practice in states. I said facetiously to Haldeman when he told me about it, “Thank God I was never elected governor of California.”

  Kleindienst seems to be a strange actor here. Ehrlichman called him at my direction and he had just finished playing golf. He seemed to be amazed the way the ball was bouncing, but still came out for a Special Prosecutor, which Mitchell is totally opposed to and which I think would be a great mistake. Particularly now that the U.S. Attorney is moving so effectively in the case to substitute a Special Prosecutor, it would be a slap in the face for him and also a vote of lack of confidence in our system of justice.

  An ironical note was the [Harold] Lipset revelation this morning, where he had been engaged in bugging in 1966, received only a misdemeanor after being charged with a felony, and got a suspended sentence. And yet he was chief investigator for the Ervin Committee. The double standard is really shocking here with the Post trying to put the very best face on it all and Dash saying that you have to have somebody as an investigator who has had some experience in doing some things that were wrong.

  I told Haldeman today that Rogers must not leave. It’s going to be a hell of a blow to Henry but it’s the only thing to do, we cannot have anybody leave if we can possibly avoid it while we are under heat on this thing.

  The only bright thing that happened over these past three days, one of the few bright things, was that the Gallup poll advance which is going to come out Monday indicated 60-33 [approval-disapproval]. This is probably the last time we will see one that high for some time unless we get a couple of breaks toward the end of the next year. But on the other hand, it does show that as of this time the Watergate has not seriously affected the public—only 5 percent apparently were affected, although Gallup is taking another poll which will probably indicate that more were affected as a result of the stories that have broken in the past few days.

  I had a good meeting with Haig and Henry with regard to Vietnam. Everything seems to pile up here with Vietnam now a problem and the economic stuff.

  I am going to get at that tomorrow if I can possibly get loose from some of this stuff to do so, and I will do so.

  I had just made a note to suggest possibly that Ehrlichman talk to Ervin about the disclosures of the day. It’s sort of a way-out one, but we might take a crack at that.

  In any event, that’s all for this day.

  This was to be my last full diary dictation until June 1974. Events became so cheerless that I no longer had the time or the desire to dictate daily reflections.

  As my diary for January indicates, I knew by then that money was going to the defendants through a Cuban committee, at a time we were hoping Hunt and the others would plead guilty and avoid the publicity of a trial. I do not believe I was ever asked to approve Kalmbach’s involvement in raising funds prior to that time, nor that I was aware of the transfer of the $350,000 from the White House to the Re-election Committee and then, at least in part, to the defendants. In early April Ehrlichman told me that O’Brien, the CRP lawyer, had said that in legal terms motive would be the key to guilt or innocence in the authorization of these payments: if the purpose had been to provide attorneys’ fees and family support, then they were legal; if the purpose had been to buy silence from the defendants, that would be an obstruction of justice.

  Diary

  The purpose of course was to see that the defendants would get adequate counsel and that their families would be taken care of during the period when they were in jail, which I suppose would be a perfectly legitimate thing to do. But I suppose it could be said that they were being paid to shut up and not talk. Now whether or not this is a crime—not for the purpose of getting them to shut up about evidence they had about other people, but even about themselves, particularly in view of the fact that they were guilty—remains to be seen.

  By mid-April it had become clear that these payments were going to be the biggest problem of all. When Haldeman and Ehrlichman began trying to reconstruct their motives they began to see how the shadow of the Watergate cover-up had fallen across everything and made it impossible to present earlier actions or decisions in their true earlier light. Were the payments intended to silence the defendants about the guilty involvements of others? Or were they simply intended—as I think they were—to pay attorneys’ fees and provide family support lest the defendants grow bitter and begin hurling charges. They were a guard against human nature and a hedge against the political problem, not an effort to suppress information based on firsthand knowledge of guilt.

  When it came to questions of motive the real answer lay in each man’s mind and each man’s conscience. I didn’t know that answer, nor did I know what each participant was claiming. I did know, however, that the best chance to survive intact would be if everyone who had been involved in the whole unfortunate episode stayed together and maintained the position that the payments had not been intended to buy silence. Since the payments were open to different interpretations, it would take only one person’s admission that they were hush money to taint everyone else’s actions—including unthinking and innocent actions. That was what Dean would do if he said that the money had been raised for the protection of the guilty and that all the participants in the money-raising had known it. “I wish we could keep Dean away from that,” I said, and I told Haldeman and Ehrlichman that I thought everyone involved should get together and stick to the line that they did not raise the money to obstruct justice. When we discussed it again a few days later, I said, “I don’t mean a lie, but a line.”

  After I returned from speaking at the Correspondents’ Dinner, I called first Haldeman and then Ehrlichman. I reiterated to both my concern that the participants in the money-raising have the same explanation of the motive for it. I also said that I wanted Colson alerted to what was happening so that if he were called before the grand jury he would not walk into a perjury charge. I also told both men that I had come to the view that the best way of handling the Ervin Committee was just to go ahead and send everyone up for public testimony. Haldeman had come to the same view himself and even thought we should agree to televised public sessions.

  I told them both what I had been thinking that evening as I prepared my remarks for the Correspondents’ Dinner. However melodramatic it might seem, it was true that what the American President did over the next four years would probably determine whether there was a chance for some kind of uneasy peace in the world for the next twenty-five years. It was in foreign affairs that presidential leadership could really make a difference. “Whatever legacy we have, hell, it isn’t going to be in getting a cesspool for Winnetka,” I told Ehrlichman, “it is going to be there.” Then I added, “And I just feel that I have to be in a position to be clean—forthcoming.”

  I told Ehrlichman of my special concern for Haldeman—Haldeman was clearly the most vulnerable. “You have had a hell of a week—two weeks. And of course poor Bob is going through the tortures of the damned,” I said, adding, “He is a guy that has just given his life, hours and hours and hours, you know, totally selfless and honest and decent.” I said some people would argue that anyone against whom charges had been made should be fired. “I mean you can’t do that,” I said to Ehrlichman. “Or am I wrong? . . . Is that our system?”

  “That isn’t a system,” Ehrlichman answered, “that is a machine.”

  “Whatever we say about Harry Truman,” I said, “while it hurt him, a lot of people admired the old bastard for standing by people who were guilty as hell, and, damn it, I am that kind of person. I am not one who is going to say, look, while this guy is under attack, I drop him.”

  On Sund
ay afternoon, April 15, after the White House worship service, Dick Kleindienst came to my EOB office and told me that Haldeman and Ehrlichman were being drawn into the criminal case on Watergate. He did not think the information he had to date was sufficient to bring an indictment; but he felt that, circumstantially at least, very serious questions were being raised. He said that the main accuser was John Dean. Dean had in effect acknowledged his own role in obstructing justice and was now drawing others in. I asked him if there was enough evidence to ask Haldeman to take a leave of absence from the staff. He said that there was not now, but that there might be any day. He said that he thought I should consider whether Haldeman and Ehrlichman should take leaves of absence now, in anticipation of what might come.

  Kleindienst was highly emotional and his voice choked periodically. He had been up nearly the whole night, and his eyes were red with fatigue and tears. He described the charges: Dean had alleged that shortly after the break-in Ehrlichman had told him to “deep-six” materials from Hunt’s safe and to get Hunt out of the country; Haldeman was accused of knowing that the $350,000 he sent back to the CRP was used to pay the defendants; and there was a question whether Haldeman had actually seen budget proposals from Magruder that outlined the bugging plans.

  These charges, based on Dean’s accusations, did not seem to me to be sufficient evidence to indict either of them. And if I were to let them go now, I argued, it would label them as guilty before they had a chance to establish their innocence. I told Kleindienst that I wanted more details concerning the evidence and a concrete recommendation about what I should do.

  He returned later that afternoon with Henry Petersen. I liked Petersen immediately. He was a Democrat who had served in the Justice Department for twenty-five years, first in the FBI and then in the Criminal Division. His allegiance was to the law and not to any administration. Kleindienst had found Petersen cleaning his boat and brought him straight to the White House, dressed in a smudged T-shirt, tennis shoes, and jeans.

  Petersen told me that he thought Haldeman and Ehrlichman should resign. He acknowledged that the evidence against them was not solid. But he added, “The question isn’t whether or not there is a criminal case that can be made against them that will stand up in court, Mr. President. What you have to realize is that these two men have not served you well. They already have, and in the future will, cause you embarrassment, and embarrassment to the presidency.”

  I defended them. Haldeman had denied any prior knowledge of the bugging and break-in; and both men claimed innocence of motive on the payments to the defendants. In effect, I was being asked to sentence them on charges that the prosecutors were not able to prove. I was being asked to prejudice their cases, perhaps irreparably, in the public eye, in order to avoid embarrassment.

  “I can’t fire men simply because of the appearance of guilt. I have to have proof of their guilt,” I said.

  Petersen straightened and said, “What you have just said, Mr. President, speaks very well of you as a man. It does not speak well of you as a President.”

  I urged him to talk to Haldeman and Ehrlichman and get their side of the story, but he said that first he wanted to build his case against them. I asked him if he would come back the next day and bring me the charges in writing.

  It was after five o’clock. Bebe Rebozo had come up from Florida that morning, and he was waiting for me outside my office when I emerged. We decided to go for a sail on the Sequoia. It was a warm spring evening, and as we sat out on the deck I gave him an outline of the Justice Department’s case against Haldeman and Ehrlichman.

  I asked him how much money I had in my account in his bank. I said that whatever happened, they had served me loyally and selflessly and I wanted to help with their legal expenses. Rebozo absolutely rejected the idea that I use my own savings. He said that he and Bob Abplanalp could raise two or three hundred thousand dollars. He added that he would have to give it to Haldeman and Ehrlichman in cash and privately, because he wouldn’t be able to do the same thing for the others who also needed and deserved help.

  As the Sequoia prepared to dock, I dreaded having to go back to the White House and face the bleak choices I knew were waiting there.

  I forced a cheerful voice as I greeted Haldeman and Ehrlichman when they entered the EOB office at 7:50 that evening.

  While Rebozo and I had been on the Sequoia, they had been meeting with Bill Rogers. Rogers, they said, felt that no one should be suspended from the staff before formal charges had been brought against him. If an individual was indicted, Rogers thought he should then go on leave of absence. Rogers said that Dean, who had already confessed to the prosecutor his own criminal involvement, should submit his resignation now to become effective at some future date; in the meantime, he thought, Dean should take a leave of absence.

  I gave Haldeman and Ehrlichman a report on my meetings with Kleindienst and Petersen and told them that Petersen had indicated that Dean was going to be offered the “good offices” of the U.S. Attorney in return for his cooperation. They were stunned, as I had been, that both Kleindienst and Petersen felt that they should leave the White House.

  John Dean sent me a message that said that he hoped I would understand that the motivation for his action was loyalty, and that he was ready to meet with me at any time. I first checked with Petersen and then arranged to meet with Dean.

  At 9:15 that night Dean entered the EOB office. I sat in my easy chair, and he sat in a straight-backed chair facing me. It was nearly three weeks since we had last talked.

  His voice, as before, was uninflected. He said, “You ought to know that I briefed Bob and John every inch of the way on this.” He said that regardless of what their motives may have been, Haldeman and Ehrlichman were involved in an obstruction of justice. “Obstruction of justice is as broad as the imagination of man,” he commented dryly. He said that all of them were involved in a “conspiracy by circumstance.” I was struck by the fact that whenever Dean talked about Ehrlichman, his voice would take on a vindictive edge.

  As we went over some of the charges, Dean seemed almost cocky about his own position. It seemed clear from his comments that he was confident that his lawyers were going to succeed in plea-bargaining with the prosecutors, and I took this to mean that he expected to get immunity.

  At one point I said that I could now see that I should not have discussed the question of clemency for Hunt with Colson. He made no response. When the meeting was over, we shook hands and said good night.

  I met with Haldeman and Ehrlichman again at 10:15 P.M. I told them about Dean’s verdict of “conspiracy by circumstance” and ran through some of the other things he had told me. They both still felt that I should follow Rogers’s advice and get Dean’s resignation in hand so that when it became known that he was plea-bargaining, it would not appear that I had condoned his crimes, but Petersen was insistent that I not fire Dean or even force him to leave the White House lest such a move adversely affect his decision to cooperate with the prosecutors.

  I told Ehrlichman that Petersen had asked me about the fact that non-Watergate materials from Hunt’s safe had been turned over to Pat Gray right after the break-in. Dean was claiming that Gray had been given these materials, but Petersen said that Gray had denied even receiving them. Ehrlichman had been present when Dean had turned them over to Gray; they had been given to him instead of to the FBI agents in charge of the investigation in order to reduce the risk of leaks. He could not understand why Gray would have denied receiving them. Ehrlichman picked up the phone and asked the operator to call Gray at home. Haldeman and I listened as he asked Gray about the documents from Hunt’s safe. We watched the blood drain from his face as he listened to Gray’s reply. After he replaced the receiver he turned to us, his lower lip thrust forward bitterly. “Well, there goes my license to practice law,” he said. Pat Gray had destroyed Howard Hunt’s files.

  When I met again with Dean on Monday morning, April 16, I gave him two draft letters: one ten
dered his resignation, the other requested a leave of absence. In accordance with Rogers’s recommendation, I told him that I wanted him to sign both letters, although neither would be released until his departure from the staff.

  The night before, Dean had been self-assured and even cocky. Now he was tense. He challenged every mention of himself with a question about Haldeman and Ehrlichman. I told him they were willing to take leaves if I asked them. He said he would take the draft letters I gave him and do drafts of his own. Dean looked at me at one point late in the conversation and said, “I think there is a mythical belief. . . that [Bob and John] don’t have a problem, I’m really not sure you’re convinced they do. But I’m telling you, they do.”

  We talked again about the meeting in which he had told me of the “cancer on the presidency.” He said it had taken place on the Wednesday before the sentencing of the Watergate defendants; that would have been March 21.

  I asked him about what had happened after that meeting. He said that when Mitchell came down to Washington, Ehrlichman had asked if the Hunt matter had been “straightened out,” and Mitchell had replied that he thought the problem was solved. Haldeman and Ehrlichman would have a different version of what had happened on March 22: they said that Mitchell had asked Dean if the problem had been handled, and then rhetorically answered himself by saying that he guessed it had been taken care of. I said that I was ready to assume some culpability for knowledge of the demands at that point, but he said that he did not think I had to.

  I made a point of telling Dean that I thought all national security matters such as the 1969 wiretaps were privileged. He assured me that he agreed, and that he had no intention of raising them.

  Dean reminded me that once he had said that he was incapable of lying. “I want you to tell the truth,” I said emphatically. “That’s the thing that. . . I have told everybody around here, said, ‘Goddamn it, tell the truth.’ ’Cause all they do, John, is compound it.” I added, “That son of a bitch Hiss would be free today if he hadn’t lied about his espionage.”