speaking publicly to groups.”5
This strategy worked so well that, by mid-1972, the polls showed Nixon some twenty points ahead of the presumptive Democratic nominee, South Dakota senator George McGovern.
Why then did Nixon or his top aides launch the break-in of the Democratic Party headquarters at the Watergate Building in June 1972? This foolishly bungled caper that the Washington Post labeled “Mission Incredible” could only upset Nixon’s glide to reelection. The answer lies in a trait that Nixon and Trump share: a need for total control, combined with minimal self-awareness. Nixon still feared that somehow his enemies—the Kennedys, the press, the professors—would snatch from his hands the final victory he had worked so hard to earn. No loose end could be left unattended.6
What Nixon’s press secretary Ron Ziegler dismissed as a “third-rate burglary attempt” would prove to be so much more. This was the hole in the dike that even Nixon’s Plumbers could not plug. Eventually the dike would collapse and a flood of revelations about Nixon’s corruption would wash away his presidency.
A month after the break-in, Nixon lectured his aide John Ehrlichman on what he had supposedly learned from his crusade as a young congressman that helped convict the alleged Communist spy Alger Hiss of perjury: “If you cover up, you’re going to get caught. And if you lie you’re going to be guilty of perjury. Now basically that was the whole story of the Hiss case. It is not the issue that will harm you; it is the cover-up that is damaging.”7
Nixon’s words to Ehrlichman may have been delivered with breezy assurance, but he was frantically working to cover up a trail that led from the break-in to the leadership of his administration and campaign. He relied on deception posing as candor and on preemptive sallies against anyone in the press who dared to dig into the story. In a press conference filled with lies, Nixon falsely claimed that he had personally investigated the matter and settled all concerns over Watergate. He said “categorically” that a White House investigation indicates “that no one in the White House staff, no one in this administration, presently employed, was involved in this very bizarre incident.” Nixon added, “What really hurts is if you try to cover it up.”8
When reporters Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein began investigating the break-in and other dirty tricks for the Washington Post, Nixon trotted out Ziegler to assail the press, just as Donald Trump would do more than four decades later. Ziegler was a former Disneyland skipper and guide for its popular jungle cruise with no political experience other than with the Nixon team. In 1969, at the age of twenty-nine he became the youngest presidential press secretary in history. Nixon could always count on Ziegler to get out the administration’s message of the day.
Ten days before the election he accused the now iconic Woodward and Bernstein of “shabby journalism,’’ “character assassination,” and “a vicious abuse of the journalistic process.” He charged their employer, the Post, with a “political effort” to “discredit this administration and individuals within it.” Earlier, Bernstein had told Nixon campaign manager John Mitchell, his former attorney general, that the Post would be publishing a story linking the Watergate burglary to a secret slush fund that Mitchell controlled. Mitchell responded with an unmistakable threat: “All that crap, you’re putting in the paper? It’s been denied. Jesus, Katie Graham [the Post’s publisher] is gonna get her tit caught in a big fat wringer if that’s published.”9
Nixon and Ziegler had set the precedent for Donald Trump and his aides when confronted with news reports of repeated contacts between Trump’s campaign staff and Russian officials. Deny. Lie. Threaten. And blame the messengers in the press, not the message itself, for the scandal.
In 1973, the reelected president could not stanch the flood of revelations that poured out in the spring of 1973, indicating that high officials of the Nixon administration and CREEP had directed the break-in and pressured the defendants to remain silent. On March 21, White House counsel John Dean warned Nixon that “We have a cancer within—close to the presidency, that’s growing.” A month later, Nixon’s lies had become so tangled that Ron Ziegler had to declare all of the president’s prior statements on Watergate “inoperative.” “The Nixon Administration has developed a new language,” commented Time magazine, “a kind of Nix-speak. Government officials are entitled to make flat statements one day, and the next day reverse field with the simple phrase, ‘I misspoke myself.’ ” Surrogates would later find themselves caught in the same trap of struggling to explain away Trump-speak, often in the form of Trump-tweets.10
THE COVER-UP EXPOSED
By summer of 1973, as part of a deal with the Democratic Senate for his confirmation, Attorney General Elliot Richardson had appointed law professor Archibald Cox as a special prosecutor. This came as a stinging affront to Nixon, who had told his advisor Henry Kissinger six months earlier that “the professors are the enemy. Write that on a blackboard 100 times and never forget it.” Worse still, Cox was from the Ivy League flagship of Harvard.11
With Democrats in control of the House and the Senate, a special Senate Watergate Committee headed by veteran Democratic senator Sam Ervin of North Carolina had begun holding spectacular televised hearings. The committee’s investigation uncovered an iceberg of illegal and illicit activities that Nixon had desperately sought to keep hidden. The Watergate break-in, it suddenly became clear, was only the tip.
Not long after, in July 1973, Alexander P. Butterfield, an obscure former White House aide, launched a bombshell: the president had tape-recorded all conversations held in his White House offices. During a yearlong struggle over access to the tapes, Vice President Agnew became the first vice president since John C. Calhoun to resign the office. Investigators had found that as governor of Maryland, Agnew had accepted bribes and kickbacks from contractors doing business with the state. In December 1973, with the approval of both houses of Congress, Nixon appointed House Minority Leader Gerald Ford of Michigan, America’s first unelected vice president.12
Even before the release of the tapes, though, another turn of events had already wounded Nixon beyond recovery. On Saturday evening October 20, 1973, in what would go down in history as the “Saturday Night Massacre,” President Nixon ordered Attorney General Elliot Richardson to fire Cox; Richardson refused to obey what he believed to be an illegal order and resigned. Deputy Attorney General William D. Ruckelshaus also refused to carry out what he too believed was an illegal order and he resigned. Solicitor General Robert H. Bork then complied with the president’s order and became the acting attorney general.
A Time magazine cover story called the massacre “one of the gravest constitutional crises,” in presidential history. It spurred outrage in Congress across the aisles and for the first time, polls showed that a plurality of the American people favored the president’s impeachment. On November 15, 1973, federal District Judge Gerhard A. Gesell ruled that, absent a showing of gross misconduct as required in the regulation establishing the special prosecutor’s office, the dismissal of Cox was illegal. Two days later at a nationally televised press conference an increasingly desperate Nixon pleaded, “I’m not a crook. I’ve earned everything I’ve got.”13
The firing proved to be of no avail to Nixon, though. Nixon ordered his compliant Acting Attorney General Robert Bork to replace Cox with Texas attorney Leon Jaworski—a former “Democrat for Nixon.” Although neither a law professor nor an Ivy Leaguer, Jaworski wasn’t dumb, corrupt, or compromised. He continued to investigate faithfully the Watergate scandal and pursue the tapes.
Who would be the Cox or Jaworski in an investigation of Donald Trump? Or the Ken Starr who later pursued Bill Clinton? Currently, the attorney general appoints a special prosecutor. But Trump has lost his security blanket in his loyalist Attorney
