The Nixon Defense: What He Knew and When He Knew It

by John W. Dean

  Another Watergate-related question followed: “Mr. President, isn’t there an essential difference really between your investigation of the Hiss case and the request of this subcommittee to Mr. Dean to appear? In the former, foreign affairs was involved, and possibly security matters, where here they only wish to question Mr. Dean about the breaking into the Watergate?” The president responded, “Yes, I would say the difference is very significant.” He explained that when a committee of Congress was investigating espionage against the government of this country, that committee should have had complete cooperation from at least the executive branch of the government. All he had requested during the Hiss case “was to get the report that we knew they had already made of their investigation. Now, this investigation does not involve espionage against the United States. It is, as we know, espionage by one political organization against another.” When asked about his responsibility for the Committee to Re-Elect the President, John Mitchell and other people who were working for them, Nixon said that Mitchell and Stans would take responsibility, and in due time respond, for they had no privilege or basis to refuse to testify, adding, “I am sure they will give very good accounts of themselves, as they have in the court matters that they have been asked to.”

  Back in the Oval Office just before noon, Ziegler assured Nixon he had done a good job.52 Nixon was pleased as well, and told Ziegler, “Well, there wasn’t anything we didn’t anticipate.” The president mentioned that he brought up Hiss because “they hate that case,” and Ziegler agreed: “It drives them up the wall.” As they reviewed the questions and the president’s responses, Nixon noted, “They are obsessed with that Watergate. It’s the strangest thing.” Kissinger, who had watched the press conference from the doorway, dropped by the Oval Office and praised the president’s performance: “I thought it was very good. I thought your form was very good, too. I mean, you were relaxed and confident and strong.”53 Kissinger, too, was struck by the amount of press attention to Watergate. Later that afternoon, Haldeman met with the president in the Oval Office, and the president asked him what he thought of the press conference.54 He had not attended it but had read the stenographer’s record, and he told Nixon he found the questions “unbelievable,” and he was amazed that the first question had been about my testifying at the Gray hearings.

  That evening the president asked Dick Moore and me to come to the Oval Office.55 As we were seating ourselves Nixon said, “So the first question was about Watergate, or Dean, or something like that, and to think that they’re really [not] shamed with [their] irresponsibility in the press corps, so they put forth forty minutes of haranguing, I mean, badgering.” He added with disgust, “The bastards never asked one question about the most important subject,” referring to his peace efforts in Vietnam. I told the president I was still reading the transcript when he called, but I had feedback from the Senate, which was “in a tizzy trying to figure out what they’re going to do.” The president asked what I thought they would do, and I said they had again backed off issuing me a subpoena. The president asked Moore, “I invited them to have a court test. Do you think that’s good, Dick?” Moore admitted that when the president had first raised the possibility the day before, he had had doubts, but the way Nixon had handled the matter had dissolved his doubts.

  March 16 to 20, 1973

  Return of the Dean Report, the Ellsberg Break-in and Hunt’s Blackmail

  March 16, 1973, the White House

  After providing me with clarification for Kleindienst on raw FBI files, the president said in a meeting that morning, “Oh, incidentally, you raised the question yesterday,” referring to the meeting with Moore and I, “that there had been no follow-up during the press conference, because he had not been asked, ‘Will you give us a copy of the Dean report?’”1 Dick Moore had noted the failure of the press to ask this question. This provided me an opportunity to make sure the president understood that this was a nonexistent report. So I reminded him, “There was no report involved.” While he ignored my response, he did recognize the problem and suggested how he might have answered: “I would say that it was purely an oral thing, that there’s no written report, but he’d be glad to give you’re a summary of his findings.” Not sure where the president was going with this, I responded noncommittally as he continued. “That’s what we’re going to say in that case, if that question is raised. Be sure that Ziegler has that, of course, that’s what you said,” the president added, clearly eager that Ziegler maintain the position that the White House was cooperating.

  Nixon solicited my thoughts on how information supporting this posture might be made available. I explained that on the Segretti matter I had gathered affidavits from the key figures and then drafted a summary report based on them that Ziegler might use. The president wanted to know why it had not been released, and I explained, “Well, there are some questions you can’t answer. Or if you do, ah—” He finished my statement, “—you get people in trouble.” Nonetheless, Nixon still thought “There’s much to be said for a presidential, or White House statement, not presidential.” I did not disagree but had no idea how that could be done. The president suggested that if I went off to Camp David with Dick Moore, we could come up with something; Mitchell might also join us, he added, although he acknowledged that Mitchell’s judgment “has been very bad on things like Carswell, Kleindienst and Gray.”* “The main point, as I said,” Nixon noted, “we cannot have the White House or the presidency in the position of covering up.”

  When Ziegler joined the conversation, Nixon began proposing and answering hypothetical questions for Ziegler’s guidance, and he posed question one about Gray’s report and on whether Gray had prepared one, which he had not. I could not resist tossing in the question he had not been asked but that we had been discussing: “How about the Dean report?” Nixon responded, “No, Dean didn’t make a report. There’s no written report here.” Then turning to me, he asked, “Do you want to say that? Because I would say that?” I responded, “I think you’ve already said the report was oral,” but I was not sure. If that was the case, the president said, he would respond, “‘His report was oral, but he will furnish all the information and answer all questions pertinent to the investigation.’ Is that fair enough?” he asked. I did not respond directly but instead added, “Consistent with the policy statement on March 12, 1973,” which meant written interrogatories only.

  When I departed, the president acknowledged to Ziegler that I had “a terribly difficult job,” and after discussing more likely follow-up questions Ziegler might get that morning, Nixon instructed him on Watergate: “The president is directing complete cooperation with the Ervin committee, but consistent with the March twelfth statement. And Mr. Dean will answer, and so forth.” What the president wanted was in fact impossible: Namely, to give the appearance of cooperation while in fact doing nothing that would present any risk to the White House. Because he wanted Ziegler to appear confident that no problems lurked, he told him, “Our problem is not the substance of Watergate and Segretti”—which, in a very limited sense, was true—“Our problem is the cover-up. The main person we have to protect is the president, and the White House.” Then he raised the matter of how information would be provided, and explained, “It will be written interrogatories, and so forth,” a process that would be worked out with the Ervin committee counsel. As all attorneys appreciate, written interrogatories are almost useless for gathering facts and determining what has or has not happened, a fact well understood by the president. But he obviously hoped the general public did not have that knowledge.

  Ziegler left the Oval Office as Haldeman arrived.2 The president told Haldeman he was urging me to get John Mitchell more involved, along with Dick Moore, in writing a statement. Nixon also reported, “Howard Baker has got a character flaw,” so they should not count on him for much in the coming inquiry. Haldeman said they still needed a way to respond to key Nixon supporters and friends on Watergate, people who “think if we just c
lear it up, then everything will be fine, and that [the president] is being misguided by [his] White House staff.” Both Nixon and Haldeman felt some sort of written document on Watergate would take the heat off of everyone. “I think the trouble is that Dean said that he’s examined that,” the president reported, “and I said you can’t push that out. You can’t make it a statement, because it leaves too many holes in it.” Nixon said he told me to bear in mind that a cover-up could be worse than the underlying problem, because a cover-up could hurt the president.

  Haldeman explained that my problems with issuing any kind of report—a subject he had discussed with me at length on two occasions—was that it would involve everyone. He told Nixon I had taken a crack at writing it but had given up; he did not explain that my reason for doing so was that he, Ehrlichman and Mitchell would be the central players in any accurate account, and that an honest explanation, or even a half explanation, would inevitably lead back to them. What he did relay was that, while a Segretti report would be feasible, since it would not incriminate the White House, a Watergate report could raise questions of criminal responsibility, and “then you have a problem,” Haldeman noted. “And if you start pushing people, you’ve got people who’ve got to decide whether they stay with what they’ve said or change their story, and then we get into a real mess. That’s why Dean’s put this scheme of containment on the line. But I just wonder if it isn’t a losing game.”

  “Well, that’s sort of my feeling. I mean, it has been for a while,” the president said. “I don’t know, but the problem is, [it gets a little complicated for everyone that’s involved in this]. But you see, I think it’s going to happen anyway. You better have it [sooner rather than later]. That’s always been my theory.” Haldeman agreed, “It would be a lot better now to lob it all out now and get it done than to have them squeeze it out,” Haldeman began, “The problem is—” And Nixon interrupted, “—the cover-up.” Nixon’s interruption acknowledged not only the problem, but the unfortunate reality that an ongoing cover-up was a fact of life in the Nixon White House, even if the president was pretending otherwise. Haldeman, however, played it down. “Yeah, but his argument, the other one, is that you don’t know how far they’re going to get. And he thinks we can succeed or they can succeed, [and then people will forget. And that’s probably where they already are],” Haldeman said, describing an argument I have no recollection of ever having made. As this conversation continued, Watergate and the Senate investigation flowed in and out; they assessed potential witnesses, answered concerns of their GOP supporters and noted that the underlying offenses were not being covered up, since seven people had already been convicted for the activity.

  “But they’re not satisfied with that,” Haldeman pointed out, and added, “They’ve got to know who directed it.” The president agreed, though even at this late date, he was still trying to understand precisely what had happened on that night in June. “[Well], we clearly established that you haven’t anything to be concerned about,” Haldeman assured him. “Mr. Jeb Stuart Magruder was not my man. Magruder worked for me when he was here, but when he went over to the committee, he was working for John Mitchell, and I didn’t see Magruder twice in a year. So I have no problem.” Nixon clarified, “What I meant is, I speak from a circumstantial point. They can say, just like Chapin, like Segretti was not Chapin’s man.” Haldeman said he understood, yet clearly he was still not giving the president basic information that investigators would later uncover about his role leading up to the Watergate break-ins. As the conversation continued, the president could merely speculate about who knew what, in order to assess his exposure.

  This conversation was interrupted for two photo opportunities on the president’s schedule, but Haldeman returned to resume the conversation when those were completed.3 The president again mentioned a Dean report, which at that time he still vaguely called “some sort of white paper” that would be issued by the White House. Nixon was concerned that the message that would be taken from his press conference was that he was essentially saying to the Congress, “Screw you. I will not let Dean testify,” which would effectively be interpreted as a cover-up. Haldeman mentioned the difficulties such a report might create for lower-level staff, without explaining the problems it would raise for his top aides, so it was not surprising that the president returned to the subject with Ehrlichman, with whom he spent the next two hours.

  He met with Ehrlichman in his EOB office midafternoon4 and they later walked to the Oval Office.5 “I’ve been deliberately trying to keep Bob and you out of this further, as much as possible, out of the conversations with Dean,” Nixon told Ehrlichman, who was pleased with the arrangement, cheerfully noting, “That’s worked pretty well, I think.” Nixon was concerned that Haldeman felt hurt by being excluded, but Ehrlichman assured him that that was not the case; as for himself, he said, “Well, I’ve actually, I’ve appreciated that.”

  “I’ve tried to keep you out for other reasons,” the president continued. “Because you have been, well, because your reason—” he hesitated, seemingly about to mention Ehrlichman’s involvement with Liddy and Hunt but, realizing that was too blunt, did so obliquely. “And I’ve, actually, Colson’s involved in that, and I want to keep him out of it because he’s involved, too. The problem, as I see it, getting into it for this first time, which I, of course, would attempt to answer the questions. You obviously see what I’m trying to do,” he said, explaining that he was attempting to answer questions without appearing to refuse to cooperate, which was why he had said, “We’re proud of our record with that. We have furnished information. We have, and then we will continue to cooperate in a proper investigation,” envisioning his White House doing what they should be doing, but, in fact, were not.

  Nixon was unhappy to learn from Ehrlichman that Howard Baker was claiming that the president had agreed to send top staff to the Watergate hearings, and he observed that maybe Baker was so “double-faced he doesn’t know” what he was or was not informed about: “I know exactly what I told him, and I also told Dean to tell [Baker] I had a record of the conversation.”6 Ehrlichman was aware that Kleindienst was trying to “smoke him out today.” After Nixon dismissed Baker as being “not very strong,” and as someone who was never going to “go anywhere in life,” he turned a Dean report. Nixon recalled that, when they were out in California, Ehrlichman had not supported the idea of “having some definitive statement made at some point.” The president indicated that he was discussing this matter with me, and I had said “there are some things we can’t cover.” He continued, “Now, I don’t know what the hell he’s talking about, but I’ll find out.”

  Ehrlichman reported that Kalmbach had “lined up five beautiful jobs” for Segretti, who was checking out the opportunities. They also talked about a problem Nixon wanted to understand: “Apparently, Sloan is pissed off at Magruder.” Nixon said that Sloan was angry that Magruder had lied about directing Sloan to pay money “to a certain person”—namely, Liddy—and that Magruder had been given a government job. Ehrlichman, well aware Magruder had lied, did not know if that was the case, although he was aware of a longtime jealousy between the two men that dated back to their days working at the White House. The president, worried about Magruder’s stability, told Ehrlichman that he “may not be aware of the fact that he can’t change his story now.” Ehrlichman assured Nixon that Magruder “feels that he is committed to a story which was totally successful, it worked.” Neither thought that Magruder would “rat on” Haldeman.

  The president wanted more information. Did Ehrlichman believe Magruder and Liddy had worked together to develop “the whole stupid thing”? Or was it “more possible that Mitchell was in on it, or possibly that Colson was in on it?” Then he added, “I don’t think that Haldeman could have been in on it.” Ehrlichman said he did not have all the facts. Nixon described his situation: “The reason, if I know the facts, then I have an idea of what could come out.” While he had once avoided the facts, it was
now apparent he needed them. He added, “The people who have to be protected here would be Mitchell and Haldeman, above all. Colson, you know, too.” But most important, Nixon said, somewhat awkwardly, “It’s very important that not a thing gets Mitchell and Haldeman.”

  Ehrlichman provided Nixon his well-informed “theory of the case,” weaving fact with his considered speculation, and while there were some gaps in his knowledge, his theory was actually very close to the truth of the matter as it was documented by later investigations. Ehrlichman started with Colson, who he felt had acted either through Magruder or Mitchell to put pressure on Magruder for information but had not necessarily pushed them (CPR) to bug Larry O’Brien and the DNC; his approach had been, rather, I don’t care how you do it, just do it. When the president asked when and why, Ehrlichman thought Colson had acted “between ITT and the time Mitchell went over there,” which the president would have understood to mean between late February 1972 (when Jack Anderson broke the ITT story) and March-April 1972 (when Mitchell took full control of the reelection operation). Ehrlichman then suggested the possible motive: “There was a period of time when we were wrapping up San Diego”—referring to moving the GOP convention to Miami, which was announced on May 6, 19727—“And there was a lot of fear that the Democrats were going to use demonstrators.” Then, most revealingly, Ehrlichman recalled, “And there was also that [rumor] that the Democrats had entered into an illegal alliance with [Florida governor Reubin] Askew for the financing of their convention in Florida.” This prompted Nixon to ask, more in a tone of seeking confirmation than asking a question,* “So, they were just trying to find that out.” Ehrlichman continued, “And there were a lot of things floating around that particular job.” Ehrlichman described how the pressure built up on Magruder, who probably called Liddy in and said, “I’m getting unbelievable shit from the White House,” so he needed to do something. Liddy, in turn, said he would take care of it, but he needed “a hundred grand or whatever.” Magruder sent Liddy to Sloan, who wanted to know if the money had been approved by Mitchell. Magruder then called Mitchell, and said, “Listen, you’ve got to call Sloan and clear this.” Ehrlichman reminded the president he was speculating, and then continued: Likely Magruder said to Mitchell, “John, you’ve got to call Sloan for me and clear the expenditure of a hundred thousand dollars cash.” And Mitchell said, “Well, what’s it for?” “Well,” he said, “Gordon Liddy is going to undertake to get that information that I keep getting badgered about from the White House.” The president added, “About the Democratic convention,” again, in a tone that was more rhetorical than inquisitive.