RN

by Richard Nixon

  At dinner on Saturday night we reviewed the situation again, and everyone urged that I at least postpone any decision until after the tape had been released on Monday. I told them I would consider their arguments and delay my decision to resign. For some reason an odd rhyme struck me. I said, “Well, that’s settled: we will wait and see. It’s fight or flight by Monday night!”

  Sunday was a cloudy day, but the clouds did not reach quite to the top of the mountain on which Aspen Lodge is situated. I was awake at dawn, looking out over the great uncharted sea of clouds, pondering the decision yet again.

  That afternoon some of the senior staff members and writers came up from Washington. We had decided that a written statement would be better than a speech to discuss the June 23 tape. I wanted the statement to emphasize the fact that as soon as Gray had informed me on July 6, 1972, of his concern about White House intervention, I had told him to press on with the investigation. The lawyers and staff, however, produced a draft that shifted the emphasis of the statement from the contents of the tape to my failure to inform them of its existence.

  I handed Haig a page of notes from my yellow pad on which I had formulated the information I wanted the statement to convey. It read: “On July 6 in a telephone conversation FBI Director Gray expressed his concern to me that improper efforts were being made to limit its investigation of the Watergate matter by some White House personnel. I asked him if he had discussed this matter with General Walters. He answered—yes. I asked if Walters agreed with him. He answered—yes. I then told him to press forward with the investigation. This clearly demonstrated that when I was informed that there was no national security objection to a full investigation by the FBI, I did not hesitate to order the investigation to proceed without regard to any political or other considerations. From this time when I was informed that there were no national security interests involved or would be jeopardized by the investigation, the investigation fully proceeded without regard to any political or other considerations.”

  Haig read the note quickly and said, “It’s no use, Mr. President. We’ve been working all afternoon on this thing, and this is the best we can come up with. I can’t make any changes in the statement now. If I do, St. Clair and the other lawyers are going to jump ship, because they claim they weren’t told about this beforehand and they based their case before the House Judiciary Committee on a premise that proved to be false.”

  I did not make an issue of it with Haig. Instead I said, “The hell with it. It really doesn’t matter. Let them put out anything they want. My decision has already been made.”

  THE LAST DAYS

  On Monday morning, August 5, the daily press briefing was postponed several times. It was canceled at 1:30, and a statement was promised by three o’clock. Speculation that I was about to resign filled the press lobby. The statement and the lengthy tape transcripts of the June 23 conversations were released at four o’clock. In the rush to produce copies of these transcripts for distribution to the press, some personal references were carelessly and unnecessarily left in.

  I had returned to the White House that morning and called the Residence, suggesting that the family have dinner on the Sequoia. I did not want them to have to endure the ordeal of watching the evening news broadcasts. I knew what they would be like.

  Ed had had to return to New York, so Pat, Julie, David, Tricia, and Rose met me in the Diplomatic Reception Room. As we walked to the cars, about a hundred young staff members, most of them secretaries from the East Wing and West Wing offices, were waiting for us. They stood on the driveway and clapped and cheered. As I shook their hands they said, “Hang in there,” “We’re still with you,” “God bless you, Mr. President.”

  Out on the river the evening was beautiful. The breeze off the water stirred the sultry air, and we sat on the top deck watching the sunset. When we passed under bridges, reporters and photographers would suddenly surge forward, hanging perilously over the railings, trying to get a closer glimpse or a closer picture.

  Everyone valiantly tried to make the evening as happy as possible. They talked about the summer weather and about a movie Julie and David had seen. They talked about the firm way Rose had of fending off impertinent reporters. They talked about everything but what was on everyone’s mind.

  During dinner I began to reminisce about all sorts of people in so many places who had been good to us over the years. I said that someday, even if it were not for a long time, all the recent experiences we had endured would mean a lot to us because we would see how they had brought us closer together. Everyone agreed that our life in politics had been enriching, the bad as well as the good. There was no talk about resigning that night, but several weeks later I learned that the next morning Pat had begun to organize our clothes, getting them ready for packing.

  After dinner the boat turned and began heading back. I had no illusions about what was awaiting us. I knew that while we were sailing on the tranquil river, the city of Washington was being whipped into a frenzy of excitement by the revelation of the June 23 tape. By now everyone would be scrambling for position, and few, if any, would want to be found standing with me.

  I asked Rose to call Haig and get a report on the first reactions, and then I went down to my cabin and stretched out on the bed with my left leg elevated as the doctors had ordered.

  A few minutes later Rose came down and read me her shorthand notes of her conversation with Haig. “Just tell him that this thing is coming about the way we expected,” Haig had told her. Rose continued to read from her notes: “Those in the upper level we expected to be all right are the same—some lower level lost—all ten on first article. The one that Dean Burch talked to regularly”—that would be Goldwater—“is going to keep quiet. Senators Curtis, Cotton, Bennett, Eastland, Stennis, Congressman Waggonner, are very much back of him but concerned about what it will do. He is worried about some others in his group. Rhodes said it was very bad. He didn’t say what he was going to do. Talked with three key guys in the Cabinet—no problem with whole Cabinet—all solid.”

  After Rose left, I turned off the lights and closed my eyes.

  I had been planning to hold a Cabinet meeting ever since we returned from San Clemente. Late Monday night I asked Haig to see if he could arrange one for Tuesday morning, August 6.

  Although I recognized the inevitability of resignation, no plans had yet been set in motion. Once resignation came, it would be quick and complete; but until then I intended to play the role of President right to the hilt and right to the end. Until my decision had been announced, the government had to remain absolutely stable at home and nations around the world must have no reason to think that America was without a leader. In the meantime I felt that the Cabinet and the White House staff should be reminded that their first responsibility was to their jobs and to the continued functioning of the government.

  I knew my Cabinet well, and despite Haig’s reports that they were all holding firm I knew that there would be great pressure on them all, and great temptations, to make public demands for my resignation. That was something I had to prevent if I possibly could. I was determined not to appear to have resigned the presidency because of a consensus of staff or Cabinet opinion or because of public pressure from the people around me. For me and no less for the country, I believed that my resignation had to be seen as something that I had decided upon completely on my own.

  I was unable to sleep that night, and about two o’clock I walked down to the Lincoln Sitting Room. No fire had been laid, so I stacked some logs together, lighted them with paper, and sat down in my big armchair in front of the blaze. A few minutes later, as I sat lost in thought, the door burst open and two of the night-duty engineers rushed in. When they saw me sitting there, they froze in their tracks. “Mr. President,” they said in surprised unison.

  Apparently everyone had thought I was in bed, and my amateur fire had set off an alarm. After they recovered from the shock of finding me there, they checked the chimney t
o make sure that the flue was open.

  Just as they left, the younger of the two turned around and said, “Mr. President, I just want you to know that we’re praying for you,” and quickly closed the door behind him.

  I thought about these two men, and about the office workers that afternoon, and about the millions of others like them all across the country who still had faith in me. I knew that by resigning I would let them down.

  I went back to bed around three o’clock. We had passed through the first blast of the fire storm, but it was still raging. I knew that it would be following me for the rest of my life.

  The Cabinet meeting on Tuesday morning was tense and subdued. During every other crisis of the administration, my entrance had been greeted with applause. Today the Cabinet rose silently as I came into the room and walked around to my chair at the center of the big oblong table.

  I opened by saying that we had several major problems to deal with, but I knew that the major subject on their minds was Watergate, and that was what I wanted to talk about first.

  I said that I understood how many people were genuinely upset by the June 23 tape. I knew it was a terrible blow to my case because it made clear that there had been discussions about the political advantages of bringing in the CIA. I thanked the Cabinet members for their statements of support in the past. I knew that many times it had not been easy to stand up for me, and I was grateful when they did. The faces were intent, sober, noncommittal.

  I said that I had considered resigning. Resignation would certainly lift a great burden from my shoulders. But I also had to think of the presidency itself. I had to consider whether resigning now because of the tremendous pressures on me to do so would establish a precedent that could start America down the road to a parliamentary type of government in which the executive stays in office only as long as he can win a vote of confidence from the legislative branch. I said that I would not expect any member of the Cabinet to do anything that would be personally embarrassing or politically harmful. My problems were my own responsibility, and I only asked that they try to run their departments especially well over the next weeks and months.

  I paused, and Jerry Ford, his voice unnaturally low, said that his situation was particularly difficult. It appeared that the vote in the House was going to be unfavorable, and he said that despite his admiration and affection for me, he had decided to remain silent about impeachment from now on. I said that this was the right position, and that no other member of the Cabinet should do anything that might jeopardize his ability to carry on his present responsibilities, or responsibilities he might have in the future, in the event I did leave office.

  I repeated that they should not become involved in the impeachment controversy but must instead give their full attention to running their departments. If I became occupied with a Senate trial, I said, I wanted the Cabinet Secretaries to think of themselves as the functioning trustees of the President and the government.

  After an uncomfortable pause I said that for the rest of the meeting I wanted to discuss the subjects that the public opinion polls still showed to be the foremost concerns of the American people: inflation and the economy.

  There was a brief discussion of the new agricultural appropriations bill, which I said would have to be vetoed because it was an out-and-out giveaway measure, exceeding my budget limitation by $450 million. The discussion then turned to a proposal for an economic summit between Congress and the executive branch sometime in the near future. Saxbe broke in, saying that perhaps we should wait to see if I would have sufficient leadership to implement any of the economic measures we were discussing. As if spurred on by Saxbe, George Bush indicated that he wanted recognition.

  Henry Kissinger’s deep, thick voice broke in sharply: “We are not here to give the President excuses. We are here to do the nation’s business.” There was a moment of embarrassed silence around the table, and then the discussion on the economy resumed until the meeting ended.

  After the Cabinet meeting I met with Kissinger in the Oval Office. I told him how much I had appreciated his support and his handling of the foreign policy problems over the last months. Then I told him that I felt I had to resign. He said that, as a friend, he had to agree that it was the best thing. He said that if I decided to fight it through to the Senate I would be picked to death and further dishonored in a trial, and the foreign policy of the nation might not be able to survive such a situation. It was one thing for the President to be under political attack as I had been for the last two years; it was quite another thing, he said, for the President to be in the dock for half a year with his chances for survival in office dubious at best.

  I told him that I totally agreed with his appraisal and thanked him for his loyal friendship.

  After Kissinger had left, I asked Bill Timmons for a report on the latest congressional defections. It was every bit as bad as I expected it would be. Two days earlier we had estimated that I could almost count on having the thirty-four votes I would need to avoid conviction in the Senate. Today, Timmons said, there were only seven men in the Senate I could count on to be with me if I decided to stay and fight. He said that as the party’s former standard-bearer, Barry Goldwater had been asked by the Republican congressional leaders to bring me personally their assessment of how hopeless the situation was. I told Haig to make arrangements for Goldwater to see me on Wednesday afternoon. We decided to invite Hugh Scott and John Rhodes to come with him.

  Haig said that he had received a phone call from Haldeman, who was strongly opposed to my resigning. If that was my irrevocable decision, however, Haldeman thought that it would be in my interest to grant him and the other Watergate defendants a full presidential pardon as my last act in office. To make this politically palatable he suggested that these Watergate pardons be combined with amnesty for all Vietnam draft dodgers. The next day I learned that John Ehrlichman had called Rose and Julie with a similar recommendation.

  Before we could discuss this any further, Steve Bull came in to say that Rabbi Korff was waiting for his appointment. I had asked Ziegler to tell him that I had decided to resign and that he should not try to change my mind. Rabbi Korff summoned his usual eloquence and said that although he would accept whatever I decided, he felt obligated to say what he thought. “You will be sinning against history if you allow the partisan cabal in Congress and the jackals in the media to force you from office,” he said. He spoke with the fire of an Old Testament prophet, but he saw that my mind was made up. He said that if I did resign, I owed it to my supporters to do it with my head high, and not just slip away.

  When he left, I buzzed for Rose. I told her that I needed her help in telling the family that I did not want them to go through the agony of watching the television news broadcasts reporting more defections over the June 23 tape. There was no need for them to worry over something we could no longer do anything about. “Tell them that the whole bunch is deserting now and we have no way to lobby them or keep them,” I said. I also asked her to tell them that my support was so low I could no longer govern, and that I was going to have to resign.

  When Rose left, I took a yellow pad from the desk. At the top I wrote, “Resignation Speech.” Working quickly, I filled several pages with notes and outlines.

  I asked Haig and Ziegler to come over to the EOB. “Things are moving very fast now,” I said, “so I think it should be sooner than later. I have decided on Thursday night. I will do it with no rancor and no loss of dignity. I will do it gracefully.” Haig said that it would be an exit as worthy as my opponents were unworthy.

  We fell silent. Finally I looked up at them and said, “Well, I screwed it up good, real good, didn’t I?” It was not really a question.

  I gave them additional thoughts I wanted included in the first draft of my speech. They both wrote diligently as I dictated. I wanted to say that this had been a difficult time for all of us, and that the situation had now reached a point where it was clear that I did not retain the necessary
support to conduct the business of government in a way that would assure that the best interests of the nation were served. I wanted to include a statement that I understood the motivations and considerations of those who were no longer able to stand with me, and that I would be eternally grateful to those who had.

  Then the three of us walked from the EOB back to the White House. As we entered the street between the two buildings, reporters rushed out to watch us.

  “One thing, Ron, old boy,” I said, “We won’t have to have any more press conferences, and we won’t even have to tell them that either!”

  When we reached the end of the Rose Garden, I looked at Haig’s face. I suddenly saw how tired he was, how much all the political stress had taken out of this superb military man. “Buck up,” I admonished him, and I put my arm around his shoulders.

  We parted at the elevator. As I pressed the button, I turned to them and said, “It’s settled then. It will be Thursday night.”

  Since Julie had prepared dinner for David’s parents, who were in Washington for a visit, she and David were at their own apartment as I went up to meet the family in the Solarium. Tricia has described the day in her diary:

  A day for tears. I could not control their flow. I did not even try.

  Mama, Daddy, Rose, and I sat in Mama’s room for a bit before dinner. The only emotionally sound one was Daddy.

  In my room I began clearing our drawers of five years of memories and became shattered at the significance. I threw clippings, writing, mementos into boxes helter-skelter. Boxes which my tears sealed. I shall not open them again for years.

  Rose in tears this afternoon told us (Mama, Julie, me) in the Solarium that Daddy had irrevocably decided to resign. Now we must all be as stoical as is humanly possible, and show him that this action has our blessing, praise him for it, and show him we love him more than ever. We must not collapse in the face of this ordeal. We must not let him down.