Nixonland. Part 43

"I have a message for the television screens," he said, looking straight into the cameras. "Let's show, besides the six over here"-he pointed-"the thousands thousands over here." In the shadow of the Statue of Liberty, the protesters were hauled off by cops. It turned out, mysteriously, that they had all received personal invitations to the event in the mail. over here." In the shadow of the Statue of Liberty, the protesters were hauled off by cops. It turned out, mysteriously, that they had all received personal invitations to the event in the mail.

Then it was off to a $1,000-a-plater at the Americana Hotel, one of twenty-eight "Victory '72" dinners. It was Student Government Day across the country. Nixon gestured to the evening's special guests, student council presidents and treasurers and secretaries: "It is significant right here in this room, that at this great dinner, where it costs, I understand, a great deal to sit down and eat, that the young people were able to come in and at least enjoy the speeches." They enjoyed them more than the traveling press, who watched on closed-circuit monitors in a room two hundred feet away, eating dry turkey sandwiches.

The next day was San Francisco. The press was lectured on their plane by John Ehrlichman that McGovern should "repudiate" upcoming demonstrations that police intelligence told them were "political rather than of an antiwar nature." The president got a tour of the spiffy control center for the new Bay Area Rapid Transit system. It was walled in by gla.s.s. The reporters watched from the other side, like gawkers at an aquarium. Then it was off to Los Angeles. Bob Hope warmed up the $1,000-a-plate crowd ("McGovern's running out of money. Yesterday he mugged an Avon lady!"). The president told of the time he had invited a group of young musicians from Los Angeles to the White House. One of the kids told him, "You know, it's a long way from Watts to the White House." The president relayed how he'd responded: "Yes, I know, and it's a long way from Whittier to the White House."

His voice softened. "A boy, born in Yorba Linda, growing up in Whittier, and going to the White House..."

The reporters, watching on closed-circuit TV, groaned. An outsider to the "boys on the bus," Timothy Crouse of Rolling Stone, Rolling Stone, told a veteran he thought the whole point of having a campaign press corps was to told a veteran he thought the whole point of having a campaign press corps was to cover cover these events: question the crowds, perhaps even the candidate, these events: question the crowds, perhaps even the candidate, serve the public serve the public-not let themselves be handmaidens to a pa.s.sive spectacle: "Why not mutiny?" The old salt responded that thanks to years of Agnewism "the White House people managed successfully to put the press in the ambivalent position of being an ent.i.ty separate from the public interest or the public." Nixon had rendered the press one more special-interest group: "The public doesn't give a d.a.m.n about our problems."

Then it was off to the Biltmore and the National Cancer Conference, where the reporters listened to a speech that sounded spontaneous, though they'd been handed it twenty-four hours before.

Jules Witcover, after McGovern's UPI speech, wrote an a.n.a.lysis piece for the L.A. Times L.A. Times about how since the president was claiming traditional campaign travel was too much of a security threat, he could instead schedule regular press conferences in which he entertained political questions. But no one ever saw Witcover's argument. His editors killed it for being too "opinionated." about how since the president was claiming traditional campaign travel was too much of a security threat, he could instead schedule regular press conferences in which he entertained political questions. But no one ever saw Witcover's argument. His editors killed it for being too "opinionated."

The president did say he would entertain political questions at his October 5 press conference. The first, predictably, was on McGovern's charges. Speaking in the pa.s.sive voice-lest McGovern be granted status as a debating partner with the president-he did what he'd been doing since Checkers: positioned the attacks on him as attacks on good G.o.d-fearing patriots-as attacks on you. you. "The president of the United States has been compared in his policies with Adolf Hitler," he rumbled indignantly. "The policies of the U.S. government to prevent a Communist takeover by force in South Vietnam have been called the worst crime since the n.a.z.i extermination of the Jews in Germany." The elisions were fast and furious. McGovern hadn't compared Nixon's "policies" with Adolf Hitler's. McGovern had been speaking of a political break-in of an opposing party's headquarters. He would not, Nixon said, dignify such charges with a response: "In view of the fact that one of the very few members of Congress who is publicly and actively supporting the opposition ticket in this campaign has very vigorously, yesterday, criticized this kind of tactics, it seems to me it makes it not necessary for me to respond." In later speeches he would name this most useful of straw congressmen-Jerome Waldie of California-who was obscure enough that whatever he had said about McGovern, it hadn't been reported in any major papers. "The president of the United States has been compared in his policies with Adolf Hitler," he rumbled indignantly. "The policies of the U.S. government to prevent a Communist takeover by force in South Vietnam have been called the worst crime since the n.a.z.i extermination of the Jews in Germany." The elisions were fast and furious. McGovern hadn't compared Nixon's "policies" with Adolf Hitler's. McGovern had been speaking of a political break-in of an opposing party's headquarters. He would not, Nixon said, dignify such charges with a response: "In view of the fact that one of the very few members of Congress who is publicly and actively supporting the opposition ticket in this campaign has very vigorously, yesterday, criticized this kind of tactics, it seems to me it makes it not necessary for me to respond." In later speeches he would name this most useful of straw congressmen-Jerome Waldie of California-who was obscure enough that whatever he had said about McGovern, it hadn't been reported in any major papers.

As his high school debating coach had said, d.i.c.k could always "slide around an argument instead of meeting it head-on." He had got the important point out there: if McGovern was so n.o.ble, why was his own party abandoning him? On October 8, Republican congressional leaders filed a complaint with the Fair Campaign Practices Committee that the McGovern campaign's language-for instance, Frank Mankiewicz's claim that "Richard Nixon is a s.h.i.+fty politician and has always been"-was "an affront to every American and a disgrace to the political process." McGovern just wasn't playing fair.

October 10, a scoop from Bernstein and Woodward: "FBI agents have established that the Watergate bugging incident stemmed from a ma.s.sive campaign of political spying and sabotage on behalf of President Nixon's reelection and directed by officials of the White House and the Committee for the Re-Election of the President.

"The activities, according to information in FBI and Department of Justice files, were aimed at all the major Democratic presidential contenders and-since 1971-represented a basic strategy of the Nixon re-election effort."

The story featured a 1963 photo of Donald H. Segretti, identified as head recruiter for the "offensive security" operations, and of Kenneth W. Clawson, the White House aide who had admitted he had written the "Canuck letter" printed in the Manchester Union Leader Manchester Union Leader that "in part triggered Muskie's politically damaging 'crying speech' in front of the newspaper's office." A reporter pointed out to Ron Ziegler that day that the president had said he'd a.s.signed John Dean to get to the bottom of Watergate. Had that investigation turned up any evidence of political sabotage by anyone on Nixon's staff? that "in part triggered Muskie's politically damaging 'crying speech' in front of the newspaper's office." A reporter pointed out to Ron Ziegler that day that the president had said he'd a.s.signed John Dean to get to the bottom of Watergate. Had that investigation turned up any evidence of political sabotage by anyone on Nixon's staff?

"You state as a fact a story that was written, but later denied by the reelection committee," Ziegler said.

The reporter re-torqued the question: whether the Post Post's story was factual or not, had the investigation the president said he had ordered come up with any facts?

"He has made several points in the past regarding the Dean investigation. I have nothing more to add to that."

Someone asked it again: did John Dean's investigation turn up any of the same material as the October 10 Post Post article? article?

"I don't have any further comment on the subject," Ziegler said, adding that the reporters should address further questions to the reelection committee.

But, someone pointed out, "We are talking about a man who works for the president in the Executive Office Building."

Ziegler: "He has already issued a statement on that, and I have nothing to add to it."

It went on for thirteen more questions. It was like talking to...a stone wall.

The Post Post reported yet more fis.h.i.+ness: a call to McGovern financiers from someone impersonating a campaign staffer asking for information on a donor; a request from someone claiming to be a Taiwanese diplomat for McGovern's travel schedule; a call to Walter Cronkite from someone impersonating Frank Mankiewicz. The reported yet more fis.h.i.+ness: a call to McGovern financiers from someone impersonating a campaign staffer asking for information on a donor; a request from someone claiming to be a Taiwanese diplomat for McGovern's travel schedule; a call to Walter Cronkite from someone impersonating Frank Mankiewicz. The Post Post reported that this Donald Segretti had a liaison in the White House (someone named Dwight Chapin). On October 16 the paper said that one of the five people authorized to approve payments from the "secret fund" was the president's personal attorney. A reported that this Donald Segretti had a liaison in the White House (someone named Dwight Chapin). On October 16 the paper said that one of the five people authorized to approve payments from the "secret fund" was the president's personal attorney. A New Republic New Republic reporter bugged Ziegler about it the next day: "This Mr. Kalmbach of Newport Beach. Is it a fact that he is Mr. Nixon's personal attorney? And two, has Mr. Nixon been in touch with him in the last two months?" reporter bugged Ziegler about it the next day: "This Mr. Kalmbach of Newport Beach. Is it a fact that he is Mr. Nixon's personal attorney? And two, has Mr. Nixon been in touch with him in the last two months?"

Ziegler replied that the president hadn't spoken with Kalmbach in months, leaving the first part of the question-whether Kalmbach was Nixon's lawyer-unanswered. Political observers would later call this a "nondenial denial." Ziegler then pulled out another trick: changing the subject to Henry Kissinger-the kind of s.h.i.+ny distraction upon which reporters loved to pounce.

Ziegler was a new kind of flack-a career career flack, not a former reporter vaguely ashamed of quitting reporting. Indeed, he held reporters in contempt. He pressed his advantages. Advantages such as: all these names were only recently unfamiliar to reporters (it was almost impossible to get ahold of a White House directory), so how unfamiliar must they sound to the general public? Bernstein and Woodward didn't attend these briefings. They were not White House correspondents. They were police reporters-the Orthogonians of the newsroom. Woodward had just been divorced; Bernstein's career had been going nowhere fast after he was discovered napping on the job. They had stumbled into the a.s.signment covering the Watergate burglars' arraignment, the kind of job parceled out to low men on the totem pole. They started working twelve-to-eighteen-hour days on the Watergate story, staking out the porches of low-level Nixon campaign staffers, poring through obscure clues, at a time when the Franklins of the White House pressroom were distracted by the "hot" stories. flack, not a former reporter vaguely ashamed of quitting reporting. Indeed, he held reporters in contempt. He pressed his advantages. Advantages such as: all these names were only recently unfamiliar to reporters (it was almost impossible to get ahold of a White House directory), so how unfamiliar must they sound to the general public? Bernstein and Woodward didn't attend these briefings. They were not White House correspondents. They were police reporters-the Orthogonians of the newsroom. Woodward had just been divorced; Bernstein's career had been going nowhere fast after he was discovered napping on the job. They had stumbled into the a.s.signment covering the Watergate burglars' arraignment, the kind of job parceled out to low men on the totem pole. They started working twelve-to-eighteen-hour days on the Watergate story, staking out the porches of low-level Nixon campaign staffers, poring through obscure clues, at a time when the Franklins of the White House pressroom were distracted by the "hot" stories.

The New York Times New York Times filled in a tiny piece of the puzzle on October 18: proof that Segretti had been in phone contact with Chapin. filled in a tiny piece of the puzzle on October 18: proof that Segretti had been in phone contact with Chapin. Time Time had added a data point two days earlier, that Gordon Strachan had helped hire Segretti. But no one was doing much-since the had added a data point two days earlier, that Gordon Strachan had helped hire Segretti. But no one was doing much-since the Post Post "owned" the story, and no editor wanted to advertise another paper's scoops. To most reporters, not to mention readers, the story's blizzard of proliferating details remained obscure: fraternity-style pranks on the campaign trail. Right-wing Cubans breaking into the Democrats' offices. This person "had access to the secret fund," that person "had access to the secret fund"; Strachan hired Segretti; Chapin was Segretti's contact-why did it matter, and who the h.e.l.l were Strachan, Segretti, and Chapin? No one ever read about them in Alsop's columns. Woodward and Bernstein didn't have time to explain how the acc.u.mulating threads fit together. So no one put the threads together. "owned" the story, and no editor wanted to advertise another paper's scoops. To most reporters, not to mention readers, the story's blizzard of proliferating details remained obscure: fraternity-style pranks on the campaign trail. Right-wing Cubans breaking into the Democrats' offices. This person "had access to the secret fund," that person "had access to the secret fund"; Strachan hired Segretti; Chapin was Segretti's contact-why did it matter, and who the h.e.l.l were Strachan, Segretti, and Chapin? No one ever read about them in Alsop's columns. Woodward and Bernstein didn't have time to explain how the acc.u.mulating threads fit together. So no one put the threads together.

McGovern later put out a campaign commercial panning over the most d.a.m.ning Watergate headlines, trying desperately to get the public to make the connection to the White House. But if the White House was implicated, why were so many of these stories at the bottom of the page?

The Post Post's monopoly provided the White House an opportunity: they could isolate the story as some weird obsession of a single "liberal" newspaper, pursuing some inexplicable vendetta against the president of the United States. They rolled out the triple-barreled attack three Tuesdays before the election.

Ziegler at his morning briefing: "I will not dignify with comment stories based on hearsay, character a.s.sa.s.sination, or guilt by a.s.sociation"-this last being the sin liberals a.s.sociated with Joe McCarthy.

Bob Dole in a speech to black Republicans: "In the final days of this campaign, like the desperate politicians whose fortunes they seek to save, the Was.h.i.+ngton Post Was.h.i.+ngton Post is conducting itself by journalistic standards that would cause ma.s.s resignations on principle from the is conducting itself by journalistic standards that would cause ma.s.s resignations on principle from the Quicksilver Times Quicksilver Times"-the drug-addled D.C. "freak" newspaper. "Given the present straits in which the McGovern campaign finds itself, Mr. McGovern appears to have turned over the franchise on his media attack campaign to the editors of the Was.h.i.+ngton Post. Was.h.i.+ngton Post."

Campaign manager Clark MacGregor stepped up to the microphone at 5 p.m., reporters having been gathered on the promise MacGregor would answer questions-then they were told MacGregor would read a statement and wouldn't take any questions.

One of the most distinguished press veterans, Clark Mollenhoff of the Des Moines Register, Des Moines Register, a bluff Midwesterner who had given up a promising professional football career to be a journalist, who had out of a deep-dyed sense of patriotic duty taken a job in 1969 as the Nixon White House ombudsman and left within a year in disgust, whom Jimmy Hoffa spat on as he was led off to prison, wasn't about to let MacGregor get away with it. Earlier, Mollenhoff had demanded of Ziegler where a bluff Midwesterner who had given up a promising professional football career to be a journalist, who had out of a deep-dyed sense of patriotic duty taken a job in 1969 as the Nixon White House ombudsman and left within a year in disgust, whom Jimmy Hoffa spat on as he was led off to prison, wasn't about to let MacGregor get away with it. Earlier, Mollenhoff had demanded of Ziegler where he he thought the money for the Watergate burglary had come from. Perhaps intimidated by the man who once, when President Eisenhower told him to sit down at a press conference, defiantly kept standing, Ziegler forgot to stonewall: "Why, I don't think there was any question but that the money came from the committee." Mollenhoff put that on the front page of the thought the money for the Watergate burglary had come from. Perhaps intimidated by the man who once, when President Eisenhower told him to sit down at a press conference, defiantly kept standing, Ziegler forgot to stonewall: "Why, I don't think there was any question but that the money came from the committee." Mollenhoff put that on the front page of the Register Register October 6. Ziegler promptly got his wits about him and released a statement accusing a towering figure in the pressroom of "misinterpretation." October 6. Ziegler promptly got his wits about him and released a statement accusing a towering figure in the pressroom of "misinterpretation."

Now the bluff old buzzard had Nixon's campaign manager in his sights. He shouted at him, "What credibility do you have? What doc.u.ments have you seen? Because if you can't tell us, you have no right to stand there."

MacGregor didn't blink. "That is a matter you will have to determine in consultation with your editors," he blandly p.r.o.nounced, then fed the reporters his statement: "Frustrated, twenty-six points behind in the polls, with three weeks to go, George McGovern-and his confederates-are now engaging in the 'politics of desperation.'

"We are witnessing some of the dirtiest tactics and hearing some of the most offensive language to appear in an American campaign....

"And the Was.h.i.+ngton Post Was.h.i.+ngton Post's credibility has today sunk lower than that of George McGovern.

"Using innuendo, third-person hearsay, unsubstantiated charges, anonymous sources, and huge scare headlines, the Post Post has maliciously sought to give the appearance of a direct connection between the White House and the Watergate-a charge the has maliciously sought to give the appearance of a direct connection between the White House and the Watergate-a charge the Post Post knows-and a half dozen investigations have found-to be false." knows-and a half dozen investigations have found-to be false."

The paper gave Watergate innuendo "huge scare headlines while proven facts of opposition-incited disruptions of the president's campaign are buried deep inside the paper." The Post Post ignored "the Molotov c.o.c.ktail discovered on October eighth at the door of the Newhall, California, headquarters," arson at Nixon offices in Hollywood and Phoenix, broken windows in New York, Ma.s.sachusetts, and Los Angeles. MacGregor mentioned the ignored "the Molotov c.o.c.ktail discovered on October eighth at the door of the Newhall, California, headquarters," arson at Nixon offices in Hollywood and Phoenix, broken windows in New York, Ma.s.sachusetts, and Los Angeles. MacGregor mentioned the Post Post's complicity in Daniel Ellsberg's crime, "for which he faces a possible 115 years in a federal penitentiary." He thundered, "While each crime is reprehensible, which is more serious? Stealing top-secret doc.u.ments of the government of the United States; or allegedly stealing Larry O'Brien's political papers?" He concluded, "The purpose of the Post Post campaign is clear: to divert public and national attention away from the real issues of this campaign-peace, jobs, foreign policy, welfare, taxes, defense, and national priorities-and onto phony issues manufactured on L Street and in McGovern headquarters." campaign is clear: to divert public and national attention away from the real issues of this campaign-peace, jobs, foreign policy, welfare, taxes, defense, and national priorities-and onto phony issues manufactured on L Street and in McGovern headquarters."

From L Street, Post Post editor Ben Bradlee released his response: "Time will judge between Clark MacGregor's press releases and the editor Ben Bradlee released his response: "Time will judge between Clark MacGregor's press releases and the Was.h.i.+ngton Post Was.h.i.+ngton Post's reporting.... The facts are on the record, unchallenged by contrary evidence." The media gave both charge and defense equal s.p.a.ce; even the Post Post twinned their coverage of the MacGregor press conference with a sober-sided a.n.a.lysis piece of MacGregor's baseless claims of McGovern ties to the violence against Nixon campaign offices. An astonis.h.i.+ng watershed in American political history had pa.s.sed: a major journalistic inst.i.tution was willfully and cynically discredited by a president as if it were a rival political candidate-the twinned their coverage of the MacGregor press conference with a sober-sided a.n.a.lysis piece of MacGregor's baseless claims of McGovern ties to the violence against Nixon campaign offices. An astonis.h.i.+ng watershed in American political history had pa.s.sed: a major journalistic inst.i.tution was willfully and cynically discredited by a president as if it were a rival political candidate-the Was.h.i.+ngton Post Was.h.i.+ngton Post as Jerry Voorhis, or Helen Gahagan Douglas. And the president had no trouble getting away with it. as Jerry Voorhis, or Helen Gahagan Douglas. And the president had no trouble getting away with it.

Every Watergate story was balanced by an imprecation against McGovern. The New York Times New York Times reported, " reported, "MCGOVERN DISCLOSES LARGE NEW LOANS," about two heirs to the Eli Lilly fortune who channeled $500,000 to McGovern. Far down, after the jump, the story noted that Richard Mellon Scaife, of the Pittsburgh banking family, had given a million dollars' worth of $3,000 checks to 330 Nixon committees to avoid the gift tax. The Lilly brothers' contribution was a loan the McGovern campaign paid back through thousands of small donations; Scaife's was a straight-up payout. But you had to read down to the end of the story whose headline only mentioned McGovern to learn that.

For McGovern, the media's gospel of "balance" was proving deadly. His campaign was was overwhelmingly being funded by donors he labeled the "skinny cats." They attended "people's fund-raisers" where admission was five bucks ("John Connally and his oil-company friends have a president," McGovern said at one in Des Moines. "Isn't it time overwhelmingly being funded by donors he labeled the "skinny cats." They attended "people's fund-raisers" where admission was five bucks ("John Connally and his oil-company friends have a president," McGovern said at one in Des Moines. "Isn't it time we we had a president?"). They responded to direct mail with some thirty thousand envelopes a day. The letters said things like "I'm on Social Security and I don't get enough to live on, but I wanted you to have this"; and "I've got two good reasons for sending $25 to George McGovern"-enclosing a photograph of a Vietnam vet with both legs amputated. After a televised speech on Vietnam ("Mr. Nixon has described the Vietnam War as our finest hour. I regard it as the saddest chapter in our nation's history") the one-day haul was $852,248. Gary Hart himself had to work the mail table to help with the backlog. You wouldn't know it from reading the headlines in McGovernophobic organs such as the had a president?"). They responded to direct mail with some thirty thousand envelopes a day. The letters said things like "I'm on Social Security and I don't get enough to live on, but I wanted you to have this"; and "I've got two good reasons for sending $25 to George McGovern"-enclosing a photograph of a Vietnam vet with both legs amputated. After a televised speech on Vietnam ("Mr. Nixon has described the Vietnam War as our finest hour. I regard it as the saddest chapter in our nation's history") the one-day haul was $852,248. Gary Hart himself had to work the mail table to help with the backlog. You wouldn't know it from reading the headlines in McGovernophobic organs such as the Chicago Tribune Chicago Tribune and the and the Wall Street Journal: Wall Street Journal: "$2 Million Loaned to McGovern by Unions, Rich Contributors"; "$4.5 Million in Loans; McGovern Forces Ask Wealthy for Financing"; "Secrecy Preferred by Some McGovern Moneymen." "$2 Million Loaned to McGovern by Unions, Rich Contributors"; "$4.5 Million in Loans; McGovern Forces Ask Wealthy for Financing"; "Secrecy Preferred by Some McGovern Moneymen."

He wasn't mugging Avon ladies. Apparently, he was mugging heirs and heiresses instead.

His campaign, though, was all disarray. Reporters got so used to snafus that they half-expected that when the appointed hour came for McGovern's first televised fund-raising appeal, the screen would be blank. The campaign relied for their support on an increasingly balkanized left; in July, McGovern's first full-time Mexican-American regional coordinator resigned after complaining that the campaign was not attending to Spanish-speaking voters. The campaign relied, too, on a generation of activists who counted the ordinary wink-wink, nudge-nudge understanding of backroom politics the rankest betrayal. One day Vermont's popular gubernatorial candidate, a party regular, met with the leaders of McGovern's state campaign to work out the details of a mutual endors.e.m.e.nt. In marched the entire volunteer staff, enraged at the "backroom deal" being cut in their midst.

The notion was that McGovern was the perfect Democratic candidate to run against Nixon because his s.h.i.+mmering idealism, his incorruptibility, his utter straightfowardness straightfowardness-not to mention his early and morally uncompromising antiwar stance-could draw brand-new strands into the Democratic coalition, perhaps for good: newly enfranchised under-twenty-ones; the activists of the new social movements; the conscience-stricken idealists of a nation suffering under an epidemic of alienation. The process was supposed to be additive. That, after all, was how the Democratic coalition had always always worked: new groups braided into the whole, which bodies forth ever stronger in the future. But the Democratic regulars proved unwelcoming, the old magic from the days when McGovern successfully reached out to blue-collar voters in Milwaukee bowling alleys hard to recapture. One year earlier, George Meany and Richard Nixon were locked in mortal political combat. Now, Meany spoke of his president like a brother. A high school dropout at fourteen, Meany talked about the McGovern coalition as if they were aliens. "Thirty-nine percent of the delegates at that convention held postgraduate degrees.... During the preconvention period and during the convention itself, those people running the show repeatedly indicated their contempt, and I mean this, their contempt for the trade union movement and for the people we represent." Labor's chieftain had become one of the Orthogonians. worked: new groups braided into the whole, which bodies forth ever stronger in the future. But the Democratic regulars proved unwelcoming, the old magic from the days when McGovern successfully reached out to blue-collar voters in Milwaukee bowling alleys hard to recapture. One year earlier, George Meany and Richard Nixon were locked in mortal political combat. Now, Meany spoke of his president like a brother. A high school dropout at fourteen, Meany talked about the McGovern coalition as if they were aliens. "Thirty-nine percent of the delegates at that convention held postgraduate degrees.... During the preconvention period and during the convention itself, those people running the show repeatedly indicated their contempt, and I mean this, their contempt for the trade union movement and for the people we represent." Labor's chieftain had become one of the Orthogonians.

McGovern returned to Chicago late in October. The Cook County sheriff had just arrested eight men alleged to be responsible for a string of murders in the Chicago suburbs-members of a gang called De Mau Mau, black veterans of army intelligence in Vietnam become domestic terrorists. One witness told the Tribune Tribune there were branches on every military base in the United States and Asia that had a sizable black population. Police started investigating De Mau Mau links to the murder of a retired army intelligence officer in Nebraska and his family. The Midwest was falling into racial panic. The chances that Bungalow Belt white ethnics would vote for anyone but a law-and-order candidate were not helped. there were branches on every military base in the United States and Asia that had a sizable black population. Police started investigating De Mau Mau links to the murder of a retired army intelligence officer in Nebraska and his family. The Midwest was falling into racial panic. The chances that Bungalow Belt white ethnics would vote for anyone but a law-and-order candidate were not helped.

Nixon's outreach to regular Democrats was more successful. He made a "nonpolitical" visit to Philadelphia as a guest of Mayor Rizzo-who told his political machine, Haldeman recorded in his diary, "either the President wins in their areas or they're to look for another job." Nixon signed his long-in-the-making revenue-sharing bill at Independence Hall. Here was the apotheosis of the blue-collar turn to cultural populism at the expense of economic populism: the bill was Nixon's deliberate retreat from the legacy of the New Deal and the Great Society and would likely do real damage to the balance sheets of cities like Philadelphia.

The ceremony was reserved for those with engraved invitations. The rest of the park was lined by cops at barricades. Forty protesters were arrested for picketing-some of them unionists demanding wage-price reforms, which used to be George Meany's crusade-despite a judge's order licensing their presence. A reporter asked to see the Liberty Bell. The irony-impaired cop's stern response: "No one sees the Liberty Bell when the president is here."

Vice President Agnew emceed: "Too much power has been flowing away from the people."

The president: "The Const.i.tution of the United States begins with the words 'We, the people,' and the bill I shall sign is a demonstration of a principle that we have faith in the people."

Upon his retreat, the shouts of protesters were drowned out by a My Fair Lady My Fair Lady medley. The president had been in the City of Brotherly Love a total of ninety minutes. Mayor Rizzo rode along in the limousine to Camp David ("We have a lot of secrets," he bragged to the press. "It was some private things we discussed"), where Nixon delivered a noontime radio address. (To his opponents "the will of the people is 'the prejudice of the ma.s.ses.'...It is time that good, decent people stop letting themselves be bulldozed by anybody who presumes to be the self-righteous moral judge of our society.") Then he watched the seventh game of the World Series, while reading newspaper endors.e.m.e.nts. The score: 213 for him, 12 for McGovern. medley. The president had been in the City of Brotherly Love a total of ninety minutes. Mayor Rizzo rode along in the limousine to Camp David ("We have a lot of secrets," he bragged to the press. "It was some private things we discussed"), where Nixon delivered a noontime radio address. (To his opponents "the will of the people is 'the prejudice of the ma.s.ses.'...It is time that good, decent people stop letting themselves be bulldozed by anybody who presumes to be the self-righteous moral judge of our society.") Then he watched the seventh game of the World Series, while reading newspaper endors.e.m.e.nts. The score: 213 for him, 12 for McGovern.

Then he left for a campaign motorcade through the Westchester County suburbs in New York State. He was already guaranteed a victory there. But this was Nelson Rockefeller's home county. Winning Westchester in November would be quite a f.u.c.k-you to his rival for the presidency since 1960.

Republicans announced a ludicrous crowd estimate of 425,000 (they had claimed 700,000 at his only other real campaign motorcade, in Atlanta, within a s.p.a.ce that could physically contain only 75,000). Westchester was not as friendly. Leaving the airport, he pa.s.sed a full-color poster of the My Lai victims. Along the route, the signs said things like CORRUPT CORRUPT and and WHY ARE YOU AFRAID TO DEBATE? WHY ARE YOU AFRAID TO DEBATE? and and WHAT ABOUT WATERGATE? WHAT ABOUT WATERGATE? The pool reporter piped audio commentary into the press bus: "I'm told to pa.s.s on to you that seasoned observers say these crowds are...unusually enthusiastic." One scribe hollered back, "Yeah. The kids are shouting 'f.u.c.k Nixon' with uncommon fervor." Nixon finished up with a rally at the Na.s.sau Coliseum. Entrance was by invitation only. But several dozen or so demonstrators managed to place themselves in the bleachers behind Nixon nonetheless. The pool reporter piped audio commentary into the press bus: "I'm told to pa.s.s on to you that seasoned observers say these crowds are...unusually enthusiastic." One scribe hollered back, "Yeah. The kids are shouting 'f.u.c.k Nixon' with uncommon fervor." Nixon finished up with a rally at the Na.s.sau Coliseum. Entrance was by invitation only. But several dozen or so demonstrators managed to place themselves in the bleachers behind Nixon nonetheless. "Stop the war! Stop the war!" "Stop the war! Stop the war!" they heckled. Security guards, cops, and ordinary spectators set upon them in a hail of fists and feet. Police dragged them across the cement. they heckled. Security guards, cops, and ordinary spectators set upon them in a hail of fists and feet. Police dragged them across the cement. "Kill 'em!" "Kill 'em!" one reporter recorded hearing. Young Voters for the President started chanting, one reporter recorded hearing. Young Voters for the President started chanting, "Four more years!" "Four more years!" "The Long Island campaign swing by the President was climaxed by an evening reminiscent of disruptions that once followed Gov. George Wallace," a reporter wrote. A younger reporter phoned in to his editors that it reminded him of the Third Reich, but his story was killed. "The Long Island campaign swing by the President was climaxed by an evening reminiscent of disruptions that once followed Gov. George Wallace," a reporter wrote. A younger reporter phoned in to his editors that it reminded him of the Third Reich, but his story was killed.

The president had responded by improvising a line on law and order: "On my part, I will say to you that any appointments I have the opportunity to make to the courts of this land or to the law enforcement officials of this land, as has been the case in the last four years, you can be sure that the age of permissiveness is gone." He also suggested "an Eleventh Commandment: No one who is able to work shall find it more profitable to go on welfare than go to work." Apparently he had forgotten the details of his own Family a.s.sistance Program.

That wasn't improvised. A similar line showed up in one of his commercials.

It began with the piercing blast of a s.h.i.+ft whistle. A weary hard hat perches on a beam high above New York and removes his modest sandwich from a brown paper bag (for hardworking Americans like these, it's dangerous even to eat lunch). The voice-over, as he pensively chews: "Senator McGovern recently submitted a welfare bill to the Congress."

The camera pans in on the worker's silent face.

"According to an a.n.a.lysis by the Senate Finance Committee, the McGovern bill would make forty-seven percent of the people in the United States eligible for welfare."

Slowly, angrily: "Forty-seven percent. Almost every other person in the country would be on welfare." percent. Almost every other person in the country would be on welfare."

The camera moves on the bustling, blaring street below-the 53 percent.

"The Finance Committee estimated the cost of this incredible proposal as 64 billion dollars 64 billion dollars in the first year. That's six times what we're spending now. Who's going to pay for all this? in the first year. That's six times what we're spending now. Who's going to pay for all this?

"Well, if you're not the one out of two people on welfare-you do."

The camera fixes on the worker's bedraggled, incredulous face, and a legend appears on the screen: PAID FOR BY DEMOCRATS FOR NIXON, JOHN CONNALLY, CHAIRMAN. PAID FOR BY DEMOCRATS FOR NIXON, JOHN CONNALLY, CHAIRMAN.

Like the "Dear Fellow Democrats" attack mailers from 1962 calling Pat Brown the va.s.sal of "left-wing forces" who had adopted the "entire platform of the Communist Party," the claims were fanciful. The figures were based on the National Welfare Rights Organization's $6,500-per-family-per-year bill that Humphrey had deceptively pinned to McGovern in California; in fact, McGovern's Democratic convention had overwhelmingly voted down a resolution for a $6,500 guaranteed income. No matter; the smear was out there. It ran over and over-once every twenty minutes in some cities. Officially, the organization Democrats for Nixon was entirely autonomous. Actually, of course, the Committee to Re-Elect the President made the spots and "loaned" the "group" the money to place them.

McGovern came back with his own, considerably less effective, ad, explaining his radically scaled-back welfare plan, cinema-verite-style, captured during one of his factory tours. An angry, haggard hard hat addressed him: "They're payin' people who are on welfare today doin' nothin'! They're laughin' at our society! And we're all hardworkin' people, and we're gettin' laughed at for workin' every day! Why not have them people go to work cleaning up the dirty streets in our towns for their money?"

McGovern: "Well, I agree. Richard Nixon goes around talking as if I'm some sort of radical because I believe in guaranteed jobs jobs for people he's throwing out of work. He said he was going to cut the welfare roles, he put four million more people on welfare. That's not my idea of delivering on a campaign pledge! Now I'm telling you, and I mean it, we're going to do whatever necessary to provide a job for every able-bodied man and woman who wants to work, and those who don't want to work shouldn't be paid anything in the way of public support." (The voice-over then gave his campaign slogan: "McGovern. Democrat. For the People.") The only problem was that the nation already "knew" that McGovern was for handing out money to people who didn't work. All the commercial did was to make him look willing to change his views to get elected-a message reinforced by another Democrats for Nixon production: McGovern's s.h.i.+fting positions were recited while a McGovern photo spun round like a weather vane (Nixon, one was supposed to draw the contrast, never changed ideological course). for people he's throwing out of work. He said he was going to cut the welfare roles, he put four million more people on welfare. That's not my idea of delivering on a campaign pledge! Now I'm telling you, and I mean it, we're going to do whatever necessary to provide a job for every able-bodied man and woman who wants to work, and those who don't want to work shouldn't be paid anything in the way of public support." (The voice-over then gave his campaign slogan: "McGovern. Democrat. For the People.") The only problem was that the nation already "knew" that McGovern was for handing out money to people who didn't work. All the commercial did was to make him look willing to change his views to get elected-a message reinforced by another Democrats for Nixon production: McGovern's s.h.i.+fting positions were recited while a McGovern photo spun round like a weather vane (Nixon, one was supposed to draw the contrast, never changed ideological course).

It gave Chuck Colson an idea: a White House agent provocateur could infiltrate the welfare rights picketers in front of one of the Committee to Re-Elect the President storefront offices and throw a brick through a window that had a poster version of the weather-vane ad within frame for the TV cameras.

The in-house ad agency shot that down, saying they couldn't produce a poster in time. They wondered where this absurd idea came from. The answer might have been: the president, who found the soft-sell approach frustrating and was always honking to Colson that the campaign wasn't aggressive enough. "They don't realize how rough I can play. I've been such a nice guy around a lot of times.... But when I start, I will kill them. There's no question about it."

McGovern's defense-spending ad was filmed in the same factory as his welfare ad. A black man: "And whenever the war is over, we'll have more layoffs...." McGovern: "If we have to depend on war, we're in sad shape in this country. You know, that's really the argument the Communists make." (How flattering: accusing a voter you're trying to persuade that he thinks like a Communist.) "They say our society won't work unless our society has a war. Now frankly, I don't believe that. At the end of World War II, which is the war I partic.i.p.ated in, we had full employment after that war. And the reason is that we set about doing the things that we couldn't do with the war on. Now, those problems are still here. We need new housing, new environmental protection, and if we stop the waste that's going on in this war, we can give a job to every man and woman who wants to work. And I'm pledged to do that."

The camera panned wide, showing the crowd listening in-distracted, turning their heads from him as if skeptical, looking elsewhere, perhaps at the crew-and as McGovern p.r.o.nounced his last word, the commercial showed him being interrupted interrupted by the questioner, then the sound abruptly cut off. It was another botched job. by the questioner, then the sound abruptly cut off. It was another botched job.

McGovern's commercials looked cold and defensive, reiterating critics' charges without effectively refuting them. A four-minute spot recounting the Democratic convention reveled in what many found off-putting about the event: "It was almost dawn in Miami when the final moment came," the narrator intoned, "the gift of the most open political process in all of our political history"; "The first night went ten hours." The ad included a bizarre endors.e.m.e.nt. A woman told the story of how her seventeen-year-old McGovernite son drove her to the polls and told her that if she didn't "vote correctly" she'd have to walk home. This made the reformers sound like what the regulars said they were-the same old-style political machine, only with hippies in place of bosses.

In his law-and-order ad, from the same factory (had he only been to one?), McGovern said, "You're never gonna get on top of crime in the United States until you get on top of drugs." You could see that the people listening weren't buying it-not from the candidate of "acid, amnesty, and abortion."

George McGovern argued against charges he was disarming America in a speech to an unimpressed VFW convention, pointing out that the military's desertion rates in 1970 were so high that enough men left to fill four infantry divisions; that the introduction into combat of defective M16 rifles left men "as good as disarmed in the heat of battle," while the manufacturer said it was the soldiers' fault; that Nixon's Indochina policy was based upon "what is best for a dictator in Saigon"; that the Government Accounting Office had recently tallied up $35 billion in Pentagon cost overruns. ("There is an army vehicle known as the Goat. It is supposed to cost five thousand dollars per copy and float. Instead it costs fifteen thousand dollars per copy and sinks.") These things, he said, weakened America far more than the reasonable Pentagon budget cuts he was proposing.

Democrats for Nixon's argument was more effective. It began by panning over platoons of toy soldiers, over the rat-tat-tat rat-tat-tat of a snare-drum cadence: of a snare-drum cadence: "The McGovern defense plan: he would cut the marines by one-third" (a hand from above swept one-third of the olive-drab toys from the stark white background).

"The air force by one-third" (black toy planes: sweep! sweep!).

"He'd cut navy personnel by one-fourth" (little men in white sailor suits: sweep! sweep!) "He would cut interceptor planes by one-half" (toy planes: sweep! sweep!) "The navy fleet by one-half" (sweep!) "And carriers from sixteen to six" (the man, clad in a senatorial blue suit, reaches out with both arms-sweeeeeeeep!-leaving behind distressing heaps of men and materiel).

The announcer intoned the punch line: "Hubert Humphrey had this to say about the McGovern proposal: 'It isn't just cutting into the fat, it isn't just cutting into manpower, it's cutting into the very security of this country.'" "Hail to the Chief" emerged out of the drum cadence and footage of the commander in chief reviewing the fleet: "President Nixon doesn't believe we should play games with our national security. He believes in a strong America-to negotiate for peace...through strength."

Nixon radio ads in regions with defense plants and military installations were so misleading they were almost surreal. They cited a "congressional study" (a later researcher could never find any such study) showing how many jobs McGovern's Pentagon cuts "could" cost that particular area. The one that ran in Rhode Island, for example, said thirty thousand civilians jobs. That figure was arrived at by calculating how many jobs McGovern's total cuts nationally would cost Rhode Island if all all the cuts were applied the cuts were applied solely solely to facilities in Rhode Island. to facilities in Rhode Island.

Most of the Nixon ads made claims neither false nor true. They made no claims at all. Two Republican consultants' research had discovered that "television news and doc.u.mentaries and other specials were by far the most important media influences on the split-ticket voter." So they made spots that looked like television news and doc.u.mentaries: the president being president. A four-minute one showed clips of him playing "Happy Birthday" on the piano for Duke Ellington, working out domestic policy with John Ehrlichman in the Oval Office ("What's the matter with these clowns? The whole purpose of this matter is to get property taxes down!"), dancing with his wife at Tricia's wedding, sharing a laugh with his interpreter in China. Then the voice-over: "Richard Nixon: a man of compa.s.sion, courage, and conscience. A man America needs. needs. Now more than ever." Now more than ever."

In another ad, he was once more at his desk lecturing Ehrlichman: "Ma.s.sive busing produces inferior education, and education is the name of the game. the name of the game....When we take kindergarten kids on a bus for an hour and a half, when they've got a school they can walk to ten minutes away, that's wrong. wrong....It will have the effect of creating hatreds. hatreds."

The most compelling ad was a guided tour of his weathered pa.s.sport, visa by visa stamp: "In India he laid out the Nixon doctrine. In Yugoslavia he met with Marshal t.i.to. In Mexico he signed an agreement to combat drug traffic. In Canada he signed the Great Lakes Environmental agreement. In China he talked peace with Mao Tse-tung. In the Soviet Union the nuclear arms agreement became a reality. President Nixon's foreign policy for the United States-a policy that calls for the self-reliance of our allies, and peaceful negotiations for our enemies, all for a single purpose: world peace." Then the ad opened onto the pa.s.sport's final, blank pages: "But there still are places to go. And friends to be won. That's why we still need President Nixon. Now, more than ever."

The most important Nixon broadcast was not a commercial. It did not feature the president. It featured the man he didn't generally allow out in front of the cameras because of his thick German accent-and, perhaps, out of jealousy. Henry Kissinger was the media darling now, a wizard, the man who beat swords into plowshares via "shuttle diplomacy." That he'd never given a televised press conference was also a useful alert: something huge was going on.

"We have now heard from both Vietnams," he began, "and it is obvious that a war that has been raging for ten years is drawing to a conclusion....

"We believe peace is at hand."

The world would learn how cynically premature this announcement was at Christmas, after the election, when the president-hoping against hope once more for a knockout blow-ordered the most ma.s.sive bombardment of the war (sixty-six airmen were killed or captured). When asked how this deal differed from any the administration could have struck in 1969, Kissinger answered that the other side had always previously insisted "we had to predetermine the future of South Vietnam in negotiations with North Vietnam." Sophisticated peaceniks could spot the lies too easily by now-the enemy had long insisted on a temporary coalition government as a prelude to genuinely open elections in South Vietnam. America America had insisted on predetermining the outcome. McGovern called the announcement "a cruel political deception." But most Americans were prepared to believe-including the editors of had insisted on predetermining the outcome. McGovern called the announcement "a cruel political deception." But most Americans were prepared to believe-including the editors of Newsweek. Newsweek. They put the words "Good-Bye Vietnam" on their cover and headlined the story "How Kissinger Did It." Nixon took a campaign turn through Ohio. The signs in the crowd said things like They put the words "Good-Bye Vietnam" on their cover and headlined the story "How Kissinger Did It." Nixon took a campaign turn through Ohio. The signs in the crowd said things like MY DADDY WILL BE HOME FOR CHRISTMAS MY DADDY WILL BE HOME FOR CHRISTMAS; NIXON IS MY HERO NIXON IS MY HERO; NIXON, THE MAN FOR NO MORE NAM NIXON, THE MAN FOR NO MORE NAM; PEACE TIME IS NIXON TIME. PEACE TIME IS NIXON TIME.

Another important broadcast that wasn't a commercial was hosted by Walter Cronkite. Its subject was Watergate.

Woodward and Bernstein were too busy to write any kind of synthesizing narrative to coherently put the Watergate pieces together; they weren't close to understanding it all themselves. After his success explaining the grain deal with his stick figures, Walter Cronkite decided to try to explain Watergate himself. The first segment aired October 27, eleven days before the election. Cronkite stood in front of a projection of both the Watergate and Committee to Re-Elect the President headquarters-and the White House. His lead: "Watergate has escalated into charges of a high-level campaign of political sabotage and espionage apparently unparalleled in American history."

The report lasted fifteen minutes, diagrams and photographs alternating with filmed segments featuring Dan Rather and Daniel Schorr-a compelling, suspenseful narrative, with three-dimensional characters. Every White House denial was given a full airing. The difference was that for the first time, the story story was as coherent as the was as coherent as the denials. denials. It even ended with a cliffhanger: "Next time: the money behind the Watergate affair." Which was what promised to lay the whole thing on the threshold of the Oval Office. It even ended with a cliffhanger: "Next time: the money behind the Watergate affair." Which was what promised to lay the whole thing on the threshold of the Oval Office.

But there would be no next time-at least not in its intended form.

Chuck Colson was put on the problem the next morning. He bragged in a memo to Haldeman, "Paley was pleading." CBS's chairman "sounded like a whipped dog and was almost on the verge of tears. My voice was steely cold.... Chalk up one for our new task of destroying the old establishment."

The follow-up report was also supposed to last fifteen minutes. Cronkite was ordered to cut it down to six. The slow, patient narration became a cubist-like incoherence. Shortly after the broadcast, McGovern received one more public relations blow: in Battle Creek, Michigan, he told a "Four more years" heckler to "Kiss my a.s.s." Consternation whipped across the nation. America couldn't have a president who swore. "Where it hurts," Chuck Colson told the president, "is that people feel he doesn't have the, he doesn't have command command of himself. In other words, that's a loss of control, that's-" of himself. In other words, that's a loss of control, that's-"

Nixon: "Yeah, because basically, that's the thing Agnew is gaining on, that his dignity, and sense of humor, and the rest-"

Colson brought up the latest Harris poll, which had yet to be released. It had been one of Colson's coups: he had "brought Harris around," intimidating him into writing poll language the White House preferred and leaking the administration the results early. "What's it say about Watergate?" the president asked.

"He's not getting anything," Colson replied. "He now completely buys the theory, Mr. President, that Vietnam has completely knocked that right out of people's minds. His theory is that people are only thinking about one thing at a time right now, they're thinking about the end of the war, and that's helped the confidence in your leaders.h.i.+p, and that's stopped the erosion, and it's stopped them thinking about saboteurs, and spies, and-"

"And even though they know the thing isn't over yet, they have more confidence in me than in McGovern."

Indeed, even before "peace is at hand," Gallup had shown that by 5826 percent, the public trusted Nixon over McGovern to end the war.

Why? McGovern's Eagleton fiasco, saying he was "one thousand percent behind him," then cutting him loose, had begun setting the chain reaction in motion: the antipolitician was a normal politician after all. His rhetorical approach didn't endear him to majorities: it made people dislike him. More and more, he wasn't merely arguing against the president. He was hectoring the American people, crying out about their their failings, trying to shock them out of their moral lethargy. failings, trying to shock them out of their moral lethargy.

At one appearance at the University of Minnesota, he stopped speaking and played a tape recording instead: "I am a Vietnam veteran, and I don't think the people really, really understand war and what's going on. We went into villages after they dropped napalm, and the human beings were fused together like pieces of metal that had been soldered. Sometimes you couldn't tell if they were people or animals."

The tape stopped; the gape-mouthed crowd was silent. "In a recent month," McGovern intoned in a radio ad, "a quarter of the wounded civilians in South Vietnam were children under twelve. As we vote November seventh, let us think of Tanya and all the other defenseless children of the world." The candidate was howling, howling into the wilderness. If he was going to lose, he would lose his way.

But then again, maybe the original a.s.sumption was right-maybe this moral nakedness was how he could win. win. Reporters had been marveling how McGovern seemed to be in the grip of some strange serene confidence. It wasn't bitterness that moved McGovern to yell back at hecklers, but a kind of freeing insouciance. Many of the people around him, and at the gra.s.s roots, thought he couldn't lose. The America they loved wouldn't allow it. It Reporters had been marveling how McGovern seemed to be in the grip of some strange serene confidence. It wasn't bitterness that moved McGovern to yell back at hecklers, but a kind of freeing insouciance. Many of the people around him, and at the gra.s.s roots, thought he couldn't lose. The America they loved wouldn't allow it. It couldn't couldn't reward Nixon's evil. The world had changed too much for that. reward Nixon's evil. The world had changed too much for that.

By the end of October, his crowds were were becoming ma.s.sive. The tide seemed to be starting to turn. "I've come here with some good news tonight," he would start out, followed by his devotees' roars. "It's not news I read in the Gallup Poll or any of the newspaper columns. But it's news that I've read in the faces of thousands of people just like you, all across America. And the news is that the experts are wrong and we're going to win in November!" becoming ma.s.sive. The tide seemed to be starting to turn. "I've come here with some good news tonight," he would start out, followed by his devotees' roars. "It's not news I read in the Gallup Poll or any of the newspaper columns. But it's news that I've read in the faces of thousands of people just like you, all across America. And the news is that the experts are wrong and we're going to win in November!"

Halfway through, he'd scan over the a.s.semblage: "We don't have John Connally with us." ("Booooo!") ("Booooo!") "He's with his rich oil-baron friends. But we don't need John Connally and the oil barons. We'd rather have the oil workers."

His final peroration: "Twenty-seven years ago, during World War Two, I served in the armed forces. I happened to be a bomber pilot. During one of our missions we were hit badly by enemy fire, and it looked as if we might not make it. Many of the crew were ready to bail out. As commander of the plane, I surveyed the damage and determined we could make it. And what I said to the crew was, 'Everyone resume your stations. We're going to bring this plane home.'