TIME: Almanac 1993/TIME Almanac 1993.iso/time/election/72elect/72elect.020

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                Ñ,</                                            0=            ╚August 19, 1974

NATION

The Unmaking of the President



     When the nation's worst political scandal finally rendered
the presidency of Richard Nixon inoperative, it did so with
savage swiftness. Hopelessly entrapped in the two-year tangle of
his own deceit, forced into a confession of past lies, he watched
the support of his most loyal defenders collapse in a political
maelstrom, driven by their bitterness over the realization that
he had betrayed their trust. Yet, as throughout his self-
inflicted Watergate ordeal, Nixon remained unwilling to admit,
perhaps even to himself, the weight of his transgressions against
truth and the Constitution. He was among the last to appreciate
the futility of his lonely struggle to escape removal from
office.

     Fittingly, the prelude to collapse began on July 24, when
three "strict constructionist" Supreme Court Justices appointed
by Nixon searchingly scoured the Constitution and joined in a
unanimous finding that it contained no legal basis for his
withholding 64 White House tape recordings from Special
Prosecutor Leon Jaworski. The President on May 6 and 7 had
listened to some of those tapes and abandoned a proposed
compromise under which he would turn twelve of them over to
Jaworski. He did not tell his chief Watergate lawyer James St.
Clair that those tapes would destroy his professions of innocence
in the cover-up conspiracy. Instead, Nixon allowed St. Clair to
carry a claim of absolute Executive privilege to the Supreme
Court and to argue before the House Judiciary Committee that the
President was unaware of that cover-up until informed of it on
March 21, 1973, by John Dean.

     An Inquisitive Federal Judge

     Incredibly, St. Clair had taken on the job of defending the
President without any assurance that he would have access to all
of the evidence. (Robert Bork, U.S. Solicitor General, had
turned down an offer to become Nixon's chief defense lawyer
precisely because he was not assured such access.) But just two
days after the Supreme Court decision, St. Clair was jolted into
a full awareness of his responsibilities by Federal Judge John J.
Sirica, whose judicial inquisitiveness has played a pivotal role
in unraveling the Watergate deceptions. "Have you personally
listened to the tapes?" Sirica asked St. Clair in court, well
aware from news reports that St. Clair had not. "You mean to say
the President wouldn't approve of your listening to the tapes?
You mean to say you could argue this case without knowing all the
background of these matters?" Visibly flustered for the first
time in his presidential-defense role, St. Clair promised to
analyze each tape submitted to the court.

     That promise set the trap. Nixon insisted upon listening to
each tape once more before transmitting it to the court. Even if
he had wanted to, there was no way he could now alter the
evidence. The erase mechanism on the President's Sony recorder
had been disconnected by the Secret Service. Even more important,
Nixon Aide Stephen Bull delivered duplicate tapes rather than the
originals to the President. After Nixon listened to the tapes,
trusted secretaries prepared verbatim transcripts, and in
accordance with Sirica's wishes, copies went to St. Clair.

     For the President's lawyer, the awful moment of truth came
on Wednesday, July 31. On that day, he received and read the
transcripts of three conversations held on June 23, 1972, between
Nixon and his top aide, Chief of Staff H.R. Haldeman. Instantly,
the stunned St. Clair knew that the contents were devastating to
Nixon's defense. The transcripts showed that just six days after
the Watergate wiretap-burglary, Nixon was fully aware that Re-
Election campaign Director John Mitchell and two former White
House consultants, E. Howard Hunt and G. Gordon Liddy, had been
involved -- even though Hunt and Liddy had not then been arrested.
He was told by Haldeman that "the FBI is not under control," and
that agents were tracing money found on the burglars to Nixon's
re-election committee.

     Nixon immediately proposed cover-up actions. His first
suggestion to Haldeman, according to the transcripts, was that
each campaign contributor whose check was traced to the burglary
by the FBI should claim that the burglars had approached him
independently for the money. Haldeman objected that this would
involve "relying on more and more people all the time." Haldeman
relayed a suggestion from Mitchell and Dean that the CIA should
be asked to tell the FBI to "stay to hell out of this" because
the FBI probe would expose unnamed -- and actually nonexistent
-- secret CIA operations. Asked Haldeman about the FBI, "You seem
to think the thing to do is get them to stop?" Replied Nixon:
"Right, fine." Added Nixon later: "All right, fine, I understand
it all. We won't second-guess Mitchell and the rest."

     With those words, Nixon authorized the cover-up, a criminal
obstruction of justice that was eventually to destroy his
presidency. The transcripts show that Nixon ordered Haldeman to
call in CIA Director Richard Helms and Deputy CIA Director Vernon
Walters and get them to tell Acting FBI Director L. Patrick Gray
"to lay off" his investigation of the Watergate burglary money.
Nixon suggested that Haldeman could claim that "the President
believes" that such an investigation would "open the whole Bay of
Pigs thing up again" (as a CIA agent, Hunt had helped organize
the disastrous 1961 invasion of Cuba), and that the CIA officials
"should call the FBI in" and tell Gray, "Don't go any further
into this case, period!"

     The June 23 conversations hinted moreover, that Nixon had
been concerned even earlier about the FBI investigation touching
the White House. "We're back in the problem area," Haldeman said
early in the first meeting with Nixon that day, indicating a
prior discussion. One such occasion almost certainly was on June
20, the day on which the two held an 18 1/2-minute Watergate
discussion -- the tape of which was later manually erased by
someone with access to the White House-held recordings.

     Reading the transcripts, St. Clair had no doubt about what
should be done: they must be released promptly and publicly. He
knew that once Jaworski got them under the Supreme Court order,
they would eventually become public, if only at the cover-up
conspiracy trial of six Nixon aides. He knew that the Senate
could acquire them for its probable trial of the President, and
he feared that their contents might leak out earlier. Release in
any of those forms would look involuntary. That would not only
destroy Nixon but it could ruin St. Clair professionally, since
he could be accused of having withheld evidence and argued
falsely in Nixon's behalf.

     The President's lawyer showed the transcript to White House
Chief of Staff Alexander Haig, who also realized at once their
awesome potential. At that point, both men knew that Nixon was
finished. Their delicate problem was gently to persuade the
President that he must resign. Haig, in turn, went immediately to
Secretary of State Henry Kissinger. He too saw no way out for
Nixon and joined in the careful diplomatic exercise of convincing
a proud Chief of State that he must step down.

     With Haig's backing, St. Clair braced Nixon. Stressing the
dire dangers, legal and political, in withholding the damaging
information any longer, the lawyer urged its release. Implicit in
St. Clair's appeal was the threat that he would have to resign
from the Nixon defense if his advice was not taken.
Fatalistically, Nixon finally concurred. "What's done is done,"
he said. "Let it go."

     Just how to explain the transcripts publicly was a dilemma.
Before the details were worked out, Nixon could conceivably
change his mind. In a move that seemed designed to block any such
possibility and to assess Congressional reaction, Haig and St.
Clair on Friday, Aug. 2, asked the President' ablest defender on
the House Judiciary Committee, California's Charles Wiggins, to
come to the White House. He had never been in Haig's office
before.

     Only Two Options for Nixon

     Haig, St. Clair and Wiggins gathered round the coffee table
in Haig's office. Haig thanked Wiggins for his efforts on Nixon's
behalf during the televised impeachment deliberations of the
Judiciary Committee. Wiggins was preparing to carry that fight to
the floor of the House and had already scheduled briefings on the
evidence for Republican Congressmen whom he hoped to persuade to
join the battle to save Nixon. Then St. Clair handed Wiggins the
June 23 transcripts. Wiggins read them. "The significance was
immediately apparent," he explained later. Wiggins re-read the
documents, looked up, and asked St. Clair what he intended to do
with the adverse information. Before St. Clair could answer, the
alarmed Wiggins gave his own advice: "The President really has
only two options: 1) claim the Fifth Amendment and not disclose,
or 2) disclose."

     St. Clair assured Wiggins that Nixon had agreed to give the
transcripts to the Judiciary Committee. Wiggins asked how long
St. Clair had known of this evidence. Only since the tapes had
been transcribed for delivery to Judge Sirica 2 days before, St.
Clair replied. "Haig said that was true for him too, and I
believed them," Wiggins recalled. "St. Clair was very apologetic
that the case had proceeded on an incomplete-fact basis."

     Heartsick, Wiggins studied the document for a third time. He
told the Nixon aides that "the case in the House will be
hopelessly lost because of this," and that "you have to face the
prospect of conviction in the Senate as well." Moreover, he
advised, "somebody has to raise with the President the question
of his resigning. The country's interest, the Republican Party's
interest and Richard Nixon's interest would be served by
resignation." St. Clair and Haig acknowledged as much, but
observed that it was very difficult for them to broach the
subject to Nixon. Returning to Capitol Hill, Wiggins instructed
an assistant to cancel his briefings for the Republican defenders
of the President. The aide looked puzzled.

     Next day President Nixon helicoptered to Camp David, joined
by his family and his friend Bebe Rebozo. Richard Nixon was there
as the last week of his presidency began, and the events he had
set in motion swept him through four fateful days of irresistible
outside pressure, internal anguish and ultimate decision.


     SUNDAY: INDECISION

     Nixon secluded himself in Aspen Cabin, his favorite, rustic
four-bedroom retreat, and summoned five aides: St. Clair, Haig,
Press Secretary Ronald Ziegler and Speechwriters Raymond Price
and Patrick Buchanan. Arriving in the afternoon, they worked on
the release of the confessional transcripts. Assembled in Laurel,
the camp's main dining lodge, the distraught aides were diverted
by larger worries. St. Clair and Buchanan saw the President's
position as doomed and suggested that he must consider resigning.
Haig and Ziegler shuttled between the two buildings, expressing
these concerns. "I wish you hadn't said that," Nixon told the
pair when resignation was proposed.

     Although giving it some consideration, Nixon stiffly
resisted that choice. "He kept mentioning the importance of not
short-circuiting the constitutional process and of avoiding the
setting of a dangerous precedent," said one Nixon aide. Nixon
proposed that he take his case once more to the people in a last-
ditch television appeal, thought about it, then rejected his own
idea. As so often in the Watergate saga, his perception was poor,
almost disconnected from reality; he was not at all certain that
the effect of the newest tape disclosure would be that fatal. He
ordered his aides to draft a statement to accompany the release
of the transcripts. He would take his chances with the result.
Price moved into an unoccupied cabin and began drafting the
President's explanation. St. Clair insisted on a paragraph making
it clear that he had been unaware of this damaging evidence. With
the statement still unfinished, the aides returned to the
capital.

     Word of the unusual activity at Camp David had rapidly
spread through Washington. Speculation grew that some major new
Nixon move was imminent. Ominously, House Republican Leader John
Rhodes postponed a press conference scheduled for Monday, at
which he had been expected to say how he would vote on
impeachment. He pleaded the discomfort of a sore throat, which
was true. But at home in suburban Maryland, he had received a
call from Haig. The chief of staff asked him to delay his news
conference. Why? There was "new information," said Haig. "Can you
tell me any more about it?" the Congressman inquired. "No,"
replied the general. "You will debriefed tomorrow about it.
Believe me, you will be happy if you don't go before the cameras
tomorrow."

     The Senate's second-ranking Republican, Michigan's Robert
Griffin, announced that he had sent a letter to the President
warning that he would vote for conviction if Nixon defied any
subpoenas for tapes and documents issued by the Senate. Already,
Nixon's congressional support appeared to be shaky and shrinking.


     MONDAY: CONFESSION

     Flying back to the capital from a weekend in Michigan,
Senator Griffin worked on a statement that went beyond his
previous warning. He too had learned that adverse evidence was
about to be revealed. Stepping before television cameras outside
the House Rules Committee room, he urged Nixon to resign "in both
the national interest and his own interest." Added Griffin in a
quavering voice: "It's not just his enemies who feel that way.
Many of his best friends -- and I regard myself as one of those
-- believe now that this would be the most appropriate course."
Griffin said later that he considered the suggestion to resign as
the earnest advice of one friend to another.

     At the White House, General Haig began telephoning Cabinet
members to prepare them for the shock of the coming revelations.
After informing the Cabinet, Haig asked some 150 members of the
White House staff to assemble in a large conference room in the
Executive Office Building. "I hate to be the harbinger of bad
news," he said, before reading the President's incriminating
statement. "You may feel depressed or outraged by this," he
concluded, "but we must all keep going for the good of the
nation. And I also hope you would do it for the President too."
Haig was warmly applauded. Explained one staff member: "The
applause was not for what he said. It was for Haig himself.
Everybody knows he's been under the gun for a year."

     A similar but more difficult notification chore was
undertaken by Lawyer St. Clair. He headed for the Capitol in a
black limousine to brief the men who had stuck their political
necks out for the President in the House Judiciary Committee
meetings: the ten Republicans who had opposed every article of
impeachment. All but Mississippi's Trent Lott and Iowa's Wiley
Mayne were able to attend the meeting in the office of Republican
House Whip Leslie Arends.

     "Gentlemen, I'm sorry to say it, but I'm not the bearer of
good tidings," St. Clair began. Then he explained the nature of
the new evidence, which was soon to be described as more than the
long-sought "smoking pistol" and actually, in the apt phrase of
Columnist George F. Will, akin to a "smoking howitzer." St. Clair
said flatly that he had been ready to resign if Nixon had opposed
release of the material. "I have my professional reputation to
think about," he explained, adding that any other action would
have been to withhold evidence of a possible criminal conspiracy.

     The Republicans' reaction was a mixture of anger and dismay.
"We were just dumbfounded," said Ohio's Delbert Latta. "We'd put
our trust in the President. We felt he was telling us the truth.
I think every American has that right -- to put his trust in the
President. It was a terrible, let-down feeling." Indiana's David
Dennis said that he was "shocked and disappointed." He had
planned to fight for Nixon on the House floor. "We'd have got
some votes too. The President would have gone to the Senate not
in all that bad shape." But now Dennis was convinced that Nixon's
"lack of frankness" had undercut his case and that he was
impeachable under Article I as a member of the cover-up
conspiracy. Angry at having been "led down the primrose path" by
Nixon, Dennis said that he and his colleagues were not mad at St.
Clair since, "we knew he'd been led down the prim-rose path too."

     Within hours of the publication of the transcripts, all ten
Republicans on the Judiciary Committee announced that they would
vote for the impeachment of the President. On Article I, at
least, that would make the committee unanimously in favor of
sending Nixon to trial in the Senate. Barely controlling his
emotions, Wiggins read a statement saying that the new facts were
"legally sufficient in my opinion to sustain at least one count
against the President of conspiracy to obstruct justice." It was
time, he added, for "the President, the Vice President, the Chief
Justice and the leaders of the House and Senate to gather in the
White House to discuss the orderly transition of power from
Richard Nixon to Gerald Ford."

     Specificity Had Been Found

     "Devastating -- impeachable," rumbled New Jersey's Charles
Sandman, who had been the President's most vocal champion on the
committee; now he finally found the "specificity" he had declared
lacking in the evidence. When he learned of the news, Iowa's
mild-mannered Mayne declared that "the President has today
admitted deceiving the American people, the Judiciary Committee
and his own lawyer. This is direct evidence."

     The burdened St. Clair pushed on to give the same shocking
message to Senate leaders, assembled in Republican Leader Hugh
Scott's office. "I have some very bad news," he repeated. After
relating it, he added: "I was tempted to resign. I framed the
issue that the President would either have to make this
disclosure or he'd lose a lawyer." Perhaps wishfully, St. Clair
insisted: "I think I can honorably continue to defend him. There
are elements here on which I can continue to make a case." He
could no longer argue that there was no evidence against the
President, he seemed to say, but he could still claim that the
President should not be convicted, since the investigation had
been only briefly delayed.

     Then St. Clair revealed some of the same lack of political
awareness that has marked the President's own flawed self-
defense. "Before this," he told the Senate leaders, "we had the
case won." "Where?" asked the incredulous Scott. "I mean as a
lawyer," St. Clair replied. To a man, the Senate leaders --
Scott, Griffin, Texas' John Tower, Utah's Wallace Bennett and New
Hampshire's Norris Cotton -- were stunned by the evidence of
Nixon's deception. "We were shaken," said one of them. "It's the
worst thing we've had."

     When the Nixon statement and the transcripts were finally
released late in the afternoon in a mobbed White House pressroom,
the words of the conversations were indeed damning. But the Nixon
explanation glossed over the import with patronizingly mild
language. Nixon implied that he had forgotten all about those
June 23 conversations with Haldeman until he had reviewed his
tapes in May. Only then, he suggested, had he "recognized that
these presented potential problems." But he did not tell his
counsel or the Judiciary Committee because, "I did not realize
the extent of the implications which these conversations might
now appear to have."

     Both his forgetfulness and lack of appreciation of the
implications were incredible. Nixon did admit, however, that
"those arguing my case, as well as those passing judgment on the
case, did so with information that was incomplete and in some
respects erroneous. This was a serious act of omission for which
I take full responsibility and which I deeply regret." The tapes,
he also conceded, "are at variance with certain of my previous
statements" -- a euphemism for the fact that he had lied
repeatedly.

     Somewhat reluctantly, Nixon observed that "this additional
material I am now furnishing may further damage my case" --
clearly one of the grossest understatements of his many Watergate
pronouncements. Noting more realistically that "a House vote of
impeachment is, as a practical matter, virtually a foregone
conclusion," he said that he would voluntarily give the Senate
every tape transferred to Special Prosecutor Jaworski by Judge
Sirica. If he did not, of course, the Senate would readily have
acquired them during its trial.

     Still pursuing the cover-up to the end, Nixon blandly and
unpersuasively asserted that "when all the facts were brought to
my attention, I insisted on a full investigation and prosecution
of those guilty. I am firmly convinced that the record, in its
entirety, does not justify the extreme step of impeachment and
removal of a President." At a Washington press conference last
March 6, Nixon had agreed that "the crime of obstruction of
justice is a serious crime and would be an impeachable offense."

     As his precarious support on Capitol Hill now crumbled under
the revelations, Nixon remained unconvinced that his survival
prospects had vanished. He set sail on the Potomac with his
family and Rose Mary Woods. At dinner on a refreshingly breezy
night, Pat and his daughters argued that there still was no
reason for the President to consider resignation.

     Julie Eisenhower, in particular, had not lost her expressed
conviction that he would fight to stay in office even "if there
were one Senator that believes in him."

     Earlier in the day, Mrs. Nixon's press secretary, Helen
Smith, vacationing in London, had telephoned Julie Eisenhower in
the White House, asking whether she should return to Washington
to assist the First Lady. "Do you know something I don't know?"
asked Julie. No, she had only been reading newspaper reports.
"Everything is going to be all right," Julie assured her --
indicating how persuasively the President had convinced his
family that he would ride out the crisis.

     At this point Nixon was ready to concede the House, but he
thought he could hold on to such Senators as John Stennis, James
Eastland, Cotton and Nebraska's Carl Curtis to stem any tide of
defection. He knew, however, that the first 24 hours would be
crucial and that this period would be tough. After the cruise,
Nixon sent word for the Cabinet to assemble next morning. He
wanted to rally their continued support.


     TUESDAY: DECISION

     The Cabinet meeting was bizarre. For 40 minutes, the
remarkably composed President engaged in a monologue about the
new tapes disclosures. Recounting the Vietnam War, his
diplomatic breakthroughs with China and the Soviet Union, Nixon
sought to show how preoccupied he had been as his re-election
campaign of 1972 approached. "One thing I have learned," he said,
re-running an old refrain, "is never to allow anybody else to run
your campaign." That was meant to explain how he could have
forgotten those telltale cover-up talks with Haldeman in June of
that seemingly distant year. "In my opinion and in the opinion of
my counsel, I have not committed any impeachable offense," he
said. Therefore, he insisted, "the constitutional process should
be followed out to the end -- wherever the end may be."

     The Cabinet members said nothing. Nixon neither sought their
advice nor paused for comment. Neither did any agree with his
apparent decision to cling to office. Only Vice President Ford
finally offered an observation, explaining that he felt that "the
public interest is no longer served" by his making statements in
defense of the President. "I understand," said Nixon. Then he
abruptly shifted into a discussion of the economy. Vaguely, he
suggested setting up a domestic "summit meeting" to grapple with
inflation. He wanted it to be held immediately.

     Finally, Attorney General William Saxbe broke the air of
unreality. "Mr. President, wouldn't it be wise to wait on this
until next week anyway -- until we see what's going to happen?"
Republican National Chairman George Bush joined in. "Shouldn't we
wait until the dust settles? Such a meeting ought to wait."
Glaring at Saxbe, Nixon replied stonily: "No. This is too
important to wait." Without explaining the nature of the proposed
anti-inflation conference, he then rose and left the room.

     The Cabinet members came away with two strong convictions:
Nixon wanted them to carry on with their jobs, and he was not
about to quit. But if he seemed politically naive about his
desperate situation, Nixon showed no signs of emotional
instability. There were no "Captain Queeg" mannerisms, Saxbe
recalled later. "We were all looking for something like that. He
was calm, in control of himself, and not the least bit tense."

     After the meeting, the President called Kissinger into his
office. Despite Nixon's resolution against resignation only
moments before, the President's doubts began to surface.
Kissinger did not reinforce Nixon's determination to stay on; it
is not certain but he may have actually suggested that the
President should resign. After the conversation, Kissinger told
newsmen that despite the crisis, U.S. foreign policy remained
stable.

     The political realities were very much on the minds of the
participants of another Washington meeting. The 15 members of the
Senate Republican policy committee, joined by other Republican
Senators, held their regular weekly luncheon on Capitol Hill. As
they met on a day in which rumors of possible resignation were
running wild, initially sending the Dow Jones industrial average
up a startling 25 points by midday, the Senators were grim.
Explained Tower later: "There was considerable concern that the
President did not really understand the mood of the Senate, that
he did not fully comprehend the peril he faced if he came to
trial here."

     One Too Many Lies

     Vice President Ford, arriving for the luncheon, did not
dispel that atmosphere. Ford reported on the Cabinet meeting and
left the impression that Nixon was far more concerned about the
economy than about his Watergate weakness and would not resign.
As the angry Senators plunged into a free-wheeling discussion of
Nixon's plight, Ford felt it was inappropriate to stay. Once Ford
was gone, the talk turned tough. "There are only so many lies you
can take, and now there has been one too many," complained
Arizona's Conservative Barry Goldwater. "Nixon should get his ass
out of the White House -- today!"

     During the G.O.P. meeting, Goldwater was called away to
accept a telephone call from Haig. How many Senators would stand
by the President? Haig wondered. No more than twelve or 15,
Goldwater estimated. Returning to the meeting, the former
presidential candidate was even more pessimistic. He said he
doubted that Nixon could get more than nine votes, and if
pressed, he could only name offhand two certainties: Curtis and
South Carolina's Strom Thurmond. It became obvious at the meeting
that Nixon had hopelessly lost the Republican leaders he needed
for survival, including Goldwater and Tower. General agreement
was reached that Nixon should be informed of his grave
predicament in the Senate and that a majority of the Senators at
the luncheon thought that the President must resign. But no
decision was made on who should do it or just how it should be
done.

     That came in a smaller meeting later in the day of the
official Republican Senate leadership -- Scott, Tower and Griffin
-- and two invited Senators representing opposite wings of the
party: Goldwater and New York's Liberal Jacob Javits. The group
selected Goldwater as the man who ought to seek a meeting with
the President to warn him of the tremendous odds against his
acquittal. Said Scott: "We agreed that Barry should be our
emissary to the President." It was a role long ago foreseen for
Goldwater in any ultimate resignation scenario.

     A flurry of phone calls between Scott, Goldwater and three
White House aides, Haig, Dean Burch and William Timmons, quickly
followed. Goldwater's intention was unmistakably clear to Nixon's
men: he wanted to let the President know that his Senate support
had collapsed and that many Republican Senators favored his
immediate resignation. The aides carried the grim news to Nixon.
Finally aware of the depth of his troubles, Nixon deferred such a
meeting, but his last option, resignation, loomed larger.

     Repeatedly throughout the afternoon, Timmons was asked by
the President for soundings on the sentiment in the Senate. Each
time, Timmons' telephoned report was distressing. At most Timmons
could count only 20 of the vital 34 votes Nixon would need to
survive, and even that insufficient band kept dwindling.

     Nixon was now under a continuous barrage of public
declarations by other influential members of Congress. Rhodes,
long a Nixon loyalist, described the new tapes as "a cataclysmic
affair" and declared that "cover-up of criminal activity and
misuse of federal agencies can neither be condoned nor
tolerated." "Was there anything Nixon could do to salvage his
situation?" a reporter asked Rhodes. He replied: "I suppose there
might be, but I couldn't tell you what it is."

     Even the Judiciary Committee's Edward Hutchinson made his
turnabout official. "I feel that I have been deceived," he said,
declaring that he would vote for impeachment "with a heavy
heart." Arriving in Washington from Mississippi, Lott also
confirmed his reversal on impeachment. He had reacted to the new
evidence, he said, with "disbelief at first, then extreme
disappointment and a letdown feeling." He was "dumbfounded, and
then it turned to anger." House leaders, including the Judiciary
Committee's Democratic Chairman Peter Rodino, laid plans to cut
the House debate on impeachment from two weeks to one week. The
third-ranking Republican in the House, Illinois' John Anderson,
asked: "Why should we need more than a day?"

     Richard Nixon had received the message. When he held a
private talk with one of his last-ditch supporters, Rabbi Baruch
Korff, in the President's Executive Office Building hideaway at
3:30 p.m., he told Korff that he was seriously considering
resignation.

     In the evening, the troubled President telephoned Kissinger
five times for wide-ranging talks about his predicament and how
it might affect foreign policy. As the conversation turned to
what kind of legacy in that field Nixon would leave, his decision
to resign seemed certain. Already, Speechwriter Price was working
on a draft of the President's resignation address.


     WEDNESDAY: RUMORS

     By Wednesday morning, the decision was irrevocable. On
instructions from Nixon, Gerald Ford was called to the White
House to meet with General Haig. Ford got the summons in his
limousine as he was heading for a meeting of the Chowder and
Marching Society, a House Republican social club. Deputy Press
Secretary Gerald Warren announced only that Ford had been invited
to discuss "the current situation." In fact, Haig told Ford to
prepare to assume the presidency.

     Unaware of this development, Republican leaders in the
Senate still were worried. Would Nixon really heed their advice
and succumb to the mounting pressures? Maybe he is not entirely
rational about this situation, one such leader observed. And if
pressed too hard, there was no way of knowing what the
President's reaction might be. One concerned Senator telephoned
Haig. "If we tell him it is hopeless," this Republican stressed
to Haig, "that might be a factor in making up his mind." The
fears of these Senators were never stated publicly -- and in
retrospective they seemed unfounded. Yet one of them declared:
"Well, I read this morning about the North Vietnamese getting
close to Danang and I was concerned about what he might do."

     Tricia's husband Edward Cox arrived at the White House from
New York to join his wife, Mrs. Nixon, Julie and David Eisenhower
in the family quarters. That gathering, too, signaled the fast-
approaching end of the Nixon presidency. Rumors of resignation
caused banner headlines and dominated news broadcasts. The stock
market rallied again, with the Dow Jones industrials rising
almost 24 points. Crowds gathered along the fences surrounding
the White House; mostly somber and curious, they had the quiet
air of a death watch. In the House of Representatives, the
gravelly voice of William ("Fish Bait") Miller startled the
occupants of that chamber. "Mr. Speaker, a message from the
President of the United States," he announced. In the stillness,
a clerk read the anticlimactic title: a presidential report on
"Government Services to rural America."

     In the Senate, the Republican Conference, chaired by Cotton,
held its regular meeting. Massachusetts Republican Ed Brooke
proposed that a delegation be sent to the White House. He was
told that a meeting had already been arranged. In fact, Nixon had
told Timmons that he would now see Goldwater, but wanted the
regular Republican leaders, Rhodes and Scott, to attend as well.
The time was set for late morning, then 12:30, then 2 p.m., 4
p.m. and finally 5 p.m. Rhodes was chauffeured to the White House
in his limousine; Scott picked up Goldwater in his.

     The President greeted the delegation cordially in the Oval
Office, then sat at his large desk, with his visitors ranged in
front of it. "He was anxious to put us at ease," said Scott
later, "because I'm sure he knew we weren't." Nixon reminisced
about the Eisenhower years, and all chatted as the trio waited
for him to broach the momentous topic. "What I need to do," Nixon
finally began, "is to get your appraisal of the floor, I have a
decision to make. I've got maybe 15 in the Senate and ten in the
House."

     "There's not more than 15 Senators for you," Goldwater
agreed. Nixon turned to Scott. "I think twelve to 15," declared
Scott, who once had proclaimed Nixon's Watergate innocence on the
basis of an edited White House transcript privately shown him.
Nixon next asked Rhodes about the House count. The reply: "I
think the substance is about as you have portrayed it."

     His feet propped on the desk, Nixon was surprisingly
amiable. Could the severe assessment change? he wondered. "It's
pretty gloomy," said Scott. "It's damn gloomy," agreed the
President. "In the decision I've got to make," he added, "I have
very few options." But he did not want to talk, he said, "about
emoluments or benefits or anything that people think that I'd be
concerned about. I'm, only thinking about the national interest.
Whatever decision I make, I'll make in the national interest. The
decision has to be made in the best interest of the people."

     The expression of public concern slipped only fleetingly.
Near the end of the half-hour talk, Nixon said: "I campaigned for
a lot of people. Some were turkeys, but I campaigned for all of
them." Where were they now? he mused. Most of them were voting to
impeach him. But he abruptly broke that bitter mood. "Thank you,
gentlemen" he said in dismissal.

     Nixon had not asked for advice on whether he should resign.
His visitors did not offer it. But they knew that his mind was
made up. The meeting was merely a formality, a final confirmation
of Richard Nixon's worst fears. The three emerged to tell the
waiting press and nation only that the President would put the
national interest first.

     Next morning the President summoned Gerald Ford to notify
him, officially and privately, that he was about to succeed to
the national summit. For the country, the worst of Watergate was
finally over. There would be more trials, perhaps even startling
revelations, but they would no longer taint the Oval Office. The
renewal had begun.


____________________________________________________________
"Stay to Hell Out of This"

     [The evidence that finally convinced Richard Nixon's lawyer,
his intimate aides and his hard-core congressional supporters
that he had been involved in the Watergate cover-up was contained
in three transcripts that he released to the public last week,
along with a statement that "portions of the tapes of these . . .
conversations are at variance with certain of my previous
statements." The extraordinarily revealing transcripts were of
conversations that he had held with H.R. Haldeman, then White
House chief of staff, on June 23, 1972, just six days after the
Watergate break-in. The most incriminating portions of those
talks:]


     FIRST MEETING (10:04-11:39 a.m.)

HALDEMAN: Now, on the investigation, you know, the Democratic
break-in thing, we're back in the problem area because the FBI is
not under control, because [Acting FBI Director L. Patrick] Gray
doesn't exactly know how to control it and they have -- their
investigation is now leading into some productive areas --
because they've been able to trace the money -- not through the
money itself -- but through the bank sources -- the banker. And,
and it goes in some directions we don't want it to go . . .
[Nixon Campaign Chairman John N.] Mitchell came up with
yesterday, and [then White House Counsel] John Dean analyzed very
carefully last night and concludes, concurs now with Mitchell's
recommendation that the only way to solve this, and we're set up
beautifully to do it, ah, in that . . . That the way to handle
this now is for us to have [Deputy CIA Director Vernon] Walters
call Pat Gray and just say "Stay to hell out of this -- this is,
ah, business here we don't want you to go any further on it."
That's not an unusual development, and ah, that would take care
of it.

PRESIDENT: What about Pat Gray -- you mean Pat Gray doesn't want
to?

H: Pat does want to. He doesn't know how to, and he doesn't have,
he doesn't have any basis for doing it. Given this, he will then
have the basis. He'll call [then deputy Associate FBI Director]
Mark Felt in, and the two of them -- and Mark Felt wants to
cooperate because he's ambitious --

P: Yeah.

H: He'll call him in and say, "We've got the signal from across
the river [the CIA] to put the hold on this. And that will fit
rather well because the FBI agents who are working the case, at
this point, feel that's what it is.

P: This is CIA? They've traced the money? Who'd they trace it to?

H: Well, they've traced it to a name, but they haven't gotten to
the guy yet.

P: Would it be somebody here?

H: [Republicans' Midwestern Finance Chairman] Ken Dahlberg.

P: Who the hell is Ken Dahlberg?

H: He gave $25,000 in Minnesota and, ah, the check went directly
to this guy [Watergate Burglar Bernard] Barker.

P: It isn't from the committee, though, from [Nixon Campaign
Finance Director Maurice H.] Stans?

H: Yeah. It is. It's directly traceable and there's some more
through some Texas people that went to the Mexican bank, which
can also be traced to the Mexican bank -- they'll get their names
today.

P: Well, I mean, there's no way -- I'm just thinking if they
don't cooperate, what do they say? That they were approached by
the Cubans [the Watergate burglars]. That's what Dahlberg has to
say, the Texans too, that they --

H: Well, if they will. But then we're relying on more and more
people all the time. That's the problem, and they'll stop if we
could take this other route.

P: All right.

H: And you seem to think the thing to do is get them to stop?

P: Right, fine.

H: They say the only way to do that is from White House
instructions. And it's got to be to [CIA Director Richard] Helms
and to -- ah, what's his name . . .? Walters.

P: Walters.

H: And the proposal would be that [then Domestic Adviser John]
Ehrlichman and I call them in, and say, ah --

P: All right, fine. How do you call him in -- I mean you just --
well, we protected Helms from one hell of a lot of things.

H: That's what Ehrlichman says.

P: Of course, this Hunt, that will uncover a lot of things. You
open that scab, there's a hell of a lot of things, and we just
feel that it would be very detrimental to have this thing go any
further. This involves these Cubans, Hunt and a lot of hanky-
panky that we have nothing to do with ourselves. Well, what the
hell, did Mitchell know about this?

H: I think so. I don't think he knew the details, but I think he
knew.

P: He didn't know how it was going to be handled, though -- with
Dahlberg and the Texans and so forth? Well, who was the asshole
that did? Is it Liddy? Is that the fellow? He must be a little
nuts.

H: He is.

P: I mean he just isn't well screwed on, is he? Is that the
problem?

H: No, but he was under pressure, apparently, to get more
information, and as he got more pressure, he pushed the people
harder to move harder --

P: Pressure from Mitchell?

H: Apparently.

P: All right, fine, I understand it all. We won't second-guess
Mitchell and the rest. Thank God it wasn't [Presidential Counsel
Charles W.] Colson.

H: The FBI interviewed Colson yesterday. They determined that
would be a good thing to do. To have him take an interrogation,
which he did, and that -- the FBI guys working the case concluded
that there were one or two possibilities -- one, that this is a
White House -- they don't think that there is anything at the
election committee -- they think it was either a White House
operation and they had some obscure reasons for it --
nonpolitical, or it was a -- Cuban and the CIA. And after their
interrogation of Colson yesterday, they concluded it was not the
White House, but are now convinced it is a CIA thing, so the CIA
turnoff would --

P: Well, not sure of their analysis, I'm not going to get that
involved. I'm (unintelligible).

H: No, sir, we don't want you to.

P: You call them in.

H: Good deal.

P: Play it tough. That's the way they play it, and that's the way
we are going to play it.

H: O.K. . . .

P: When you get in . . . say, Look, the problem is that this will
open the whole, the whole Bay of Pigs thing, and the President
just feels that, ah, without going into the details -- don't,
don't lie to them to the extent to say no involvement, but just
say this is a comedy of errors, without getting into it, the
President believes that it is going to open the whole Bay of Pigs
thing up again. And, ah, because these people are plugging for
(unintelligible) and that they should call the FBI in and
(unintelligible) don't go any further into this case period!
. . . Well, can you get it done?

H: I think so.


     SECOND MEETING (1:04-1:13 p.m.)

P: O.K. . . . just say (unintelligible) very bad to have this
fellow Hunt, ah, he knows too damned much, if he was involved --
you happen to know that? If it gets out that this is all
involved, the Cuba thing, it would be a fiasco. It would make the
CIA look bad, it's going to make Hunt look bad, and it is likely
to blow the whole Bay of Pigs thing, which we think would be very
unfortunate -- both for [the] CIA, and for the country, at this
time, and for American foreign policy. Just tell him [presumably
FBI Director Gray] to lay off. Don't you?

H: Yep. That's the basis to do it on. Just leave it at that.


     THIRD MEETING (2:20-2:45 p.m.)

H: Well, it was kind of interest[ing]. Walters made the point and
I didn't mention Hunt. I just said that the thing was leading
into directions that were going to create potential problems
because they were exploring leads that led back into areas that
would be harmful to the CIA and harmful to the Government . . .
Gray called and said, yesterday, and said that he thought --

P: Who did? Gray?

H: Gray called Helms and said I think we've run right into the
middle of a CIA covert operation.

P: Gray said that?

H: Yeah . . . So at that point he [Helms or Walters] kind of got
the picture. He said, he said we'll be very happy to be helpful
(unintelligible) handle anything you want. I would like to know
the reason for being helpful, and I made it clear to him he
wasn't going to get explicit (unintelligible) generality, and he
said fine. And Walters (unintelligible). Walters is going to make
a call to Gray. That's the way we put it and that's the way it
was left.