Facing the problem of the tapes

Press, Volume CXVI, Issue 34130, 17 April 1976, Page 17

Facing the problem of the tapes

The \\ atergate inquiry is in full swing. Judge John Sirica. in whose court e '\atergate criminal proceedings are being heard, has demanded tie hite House tapes of crucial Nixon conversations over the scandal. His demand is upheld by the Court of Appeals. Now AttorneyGeneial, Llliot Richardson is summoned to the White House bv Nixon’s chief of staff. General Alexander Haig. The White House has a plan: A ix j on , .' P ie P a f e l transcripts of the tapes for the court—and the \\ atei gate special prosecutor, Archibald Cox, will be fired. '

Richardson left the White House bewildered and uncertain of what would happen next. He was unaware that a plan to submit transcripts instead of tapes had been under consideration for three weeks and that, in late September, Rose Mary Woods, Nixon’s secretary, had begun transscribing the subpoenaed conversations.

Haig called Richardson 40 minutes later to suggest a compromise: Senator John C. Stennis, the 72-year-old Missis, ippi Democrat, would be asked to make a comparison between the transcripts and the tapes. His authenticated version would be submitted to the court.

Haig assured Richardson that Cox would not have to be fired provided that “this was it” in regard to the demands for tapes, but the phrase was not defined.

Also, no mention was made of the fact that Stennis was partially deaf and that the tapes were difficult to here under the best of circumstances. Cox’s response to the Stennis plan was that: "The public cannot fairly be asked to confide sb difficult and responsible a task to any one man operating in secrecy, consulting only with the White House.” The court might want the actual tapes, the best evidence, for any trial. Cox also wanted an

agreement that would “serve the function of a court decision in establishing the special prosecutor’s entitlement to other evidence.”

Haig abserved coldly to Richardson that the White House was seeking a compromise, but the special prosecutor’s response differed in spirit so completely that agreement was out of the question. If Cox refused, he should be fired, Haig said, and the president’s lawyers agreed They were confident that the president could persuade the public of the reasonableness of such an action. Richardson did not think so. He made it clear that he could live with Cox’s voluntary resignation, but that he could not fire him for refusing the plan. Later that night Richardson sat in his study in 'lcLean, Virginia. The rush of the Potomac River was barely audible in the distance. He wrote at the top of a yellow legal pad: “Why I Must Resign.” He was sure Cox could not be persuaded to ac-

quiesce, and he also knew that the president wanted Cox out. Richardson’s first “rea son” was his own promise to the Senate to guarantee the independence of the special prosecutor. Second, he wrote down that Cox was being required to accept less than he had won in two court decisions. Real stance

“While Cox has rejected a proposal I consider reasonable, his rejection of it cannt be regarded as grounds for his removal. “I am, in fact, loyal to the president,” he wrote slowly, “and I am by temperament a team player.” But it was dawing on Richardson that he wasn’t going to be able to play much longer. Writing it down helped him make it clear to himself. Nixon’s real position, which he made clear only to his closest advisers, was that he wanted to prevent access to any other tapes. This being so, a showdown was inevitable.

Professor Charles Alan Wright, a constitutional scholar and a recent addition to Nixon s legal team, telephoned Cos that evening.

It was a nasty conversation. Wright announced that the president was willing to permit an unprecedented instrusion into his privacy, but that Cox’s response had departed from the intent of the Stennis compromise. Unless Cox was willing to reconsider his position, further discussion would be a waste of time.

Cox was offended at Wright s tone, still more at the implied threat. He was willing to talk, but he could only conclude that Wright had called to slam the door. New deal The next morning, Friday, Cox dispatched to Wright a “Dear Charlie” letter which kept the door open slightly. But; Cox said, he could not, and would not, break his promise to run a thorough investigation. To relinquish his right to additional evidence, he said, would be to break that promise. “I cannot break my promise now.” By return letter, Wright said: “The differences between us remain so great that no purpose would be served by further discussion. We will be forced to take the actions that the president deems appropriate in these circumstances ”

Early that Friday morning, Richardson had “Why I Must Resign” typed and put it in his pocket. He called Haig and asked to see the president. But when Richardson arrived at Haig’s office at about 10 a.m. Haig had a new deal.

"Maybe,” he said, “we don’t have to go down the road we talked about last

night. Suppose we go ahead with the Stennis plan without firing Cox.” Perhaps Judge Sirica could be persuaded to accept the Stennis transcripts rather than the tapes thems .‘lves. They would forget Cox and concentrate on Sirica. ‘’Bloody, bloody” Richardson was taken aback. That would be fine, he said, thinking to himself that he wouldn’t have to resign, either. Haig said he would try to persuade the president. Richardson was in for another surprise when he was given a copy of Cox’s letter to Wright, which, referred to the fact that the special prosecutor had been asked categorically “not to subpoena any other White House tape, paper or document.” Haig left his office and came back soon to announce that the president had agreed to keep Cox. It had been “bloody, bloody,” Haig said. “I pushed so hard that my usefulness to the president may be over ”

Richardson tried to add things up in his own mind. The Stennis compromise had a new element — no future access; he was willing to accept it. Barely. Cox could resign or keep his job, as he chose — Richardson would not have to fire him. That was crucial. Richardson

wouldn't have to resign. Negotiations could continue. His reasons for resigning, neatly typed, stayed foled in his pocket.

Back at his office, Richardson reviewed the White House meeting with his aides. They had expected him to resign, and they were less persuaded than Richardson was that he could permit a restriction on Cox's future access without voilating his agreement with the Senate.

Richardson called back Haig insisting that the question of future access must not be linked to the Stennis plan. He hung up convinced he had gained ground. But the president was immovable. Whatever solution was arrived at, it had to solve the problem of the tapes once and for all, he told H

He and the lawyers continued to cast about for other pliant customers who would buy the Stennis compromise. The senate Watergate Committee had lost its own suit for the tapes two days earlier and might be receptive.

Haig tracked down the chairman and the vicechairman, Senators Sam Ervin and Howard .1. Baker. Jr. in New Orleans and Chicago. They were flown back to the White House to meet the president late in the afternoon. The Stennis plan would be fine with them, both agreed. It was better than nothing.

Now the compromise had the stamp of reason-, ableness — Richardson, Stennis, Ervin and Baker.

NEXT: The Saturday Night Massacre. “The Press” and the New Zealand “Herald” 1976.