Official and Confidential (64 page)

All was not well, and events the next day made things immeasurably worse. That morning, a Sunday,
New York Times
readers across the country were regaled with seven pages of revelatory material on the escalation of the Vietnam War. These were the Pentagon Papers, secret documents supplied to the
Times
– as the FBI quickly established – by former government analyst Daniel Ellsberg. The
Times
continued to pump out the information, in spite of frantic government litigation. It was the most blatant leak of all, and it led Nixon an irreversible step closer to the follies of Watergate. For Edgar, it brought fateful clashes with both Nixon and William Sullivan.

These shifts were set in motion by a comedy of errors involving Louis Marx, the elderly millionaire who happened to be both Ellsberg's father-in-law and a longstanding friend of Edgar's. Nixon, convinced Ellsberg was part of a Communist conspiracy, wanted every scrap of information on the man. He was enraged to hear that, because Marx was a friend, Edgar had ordered agents not to question him.

Edgar had issued such an order, and for the very reason reported to Nixon, that he was ‘sorry for Louis.' Ironically, however, the order was not carried out. Charles Brennan, the head of Domestic Intelligence at the FBI, is said to have misread Edgar's scribbled ‘No H' as ‘OK H.' By the time he realized his mistake, Marx had been interviewed. Edgar flew into a tantrum and ordered Brennan demoted and transferred to
Ohio. This in turn upset William Sullivan, Brennan's superior and longtime friend, triggering extraordinary events.

Sullivan had reached boiling point. Given free rein to run the COINTELPRO program, he had put up with Edgar's ways like everyone else. Now he was frustrated, by Edgar's stonewalling over domestic intelligence, and by the ending of COINTELPRO. He was angry, too, about Edgar's latest empire building abroad. This included a new office in Bern, Switzerland, which seemed to exist mainly to provide hospitality to Edgar's cronies during their travels, and a totally useless one in La Paz, Bolivia. Edgar seemed to think that, since Cuban Communist Che Guevara had been killed in Bolivia, it must be a useful place for the FBI to be.

Unlike submissive colleagues, Sullivan had argued openly with Edgar on such matters. He had had the temerity to say publicly that race riots and student unrest should not be blamed on the Communist Party. Edgar had been furious. Now there was Edgar's hysterical treatment of Charles Brennan, an outstanding agent, over the Louis Marx misunderstanding.

Losing patience, Sullivan began covert contacts with Nixon officials who shared his feelings, and especially with Assistant Attorney General Mardian. Mardian, who knew the Director had called him ‘a goddamned Lebanese Jew,' thought Edgar ‘garrulous, full of wind. Mean, like a mean old dog.'

To hammer home the criticism, Sullivan supplied Mardian with sheaves of Edgar's internal correspondence. Mardian sent some of it to John Mitchell and filed the rest nervously in a folder marked ‘Jones.' The belief that sooner or later Edgar would find out about everything had spread beyond the FBI.

At the height of the Pentagon Papers furor, Sullivan shared with Mardian his conviction that Edgar was ‘not of sound mind.' ‘He told me,' Mardian recalled, ‘that he had in his possession documents that were “out of channel,” wiretap
information. He said Hoover had used such information against previous Presidents and was liable to use these documents to blackmail Nixon. As long as he had those files, Nixon could not relieve him.'

Sullivan was referring to the Bureau copies of Nixon's taps on government officials and newsmen, now held under tight security in his office. Mardian passed on the blackmail warning, and the President – then in California – took it in deadly earnest. Mardian was ordered to fly to the Western White House at once, by Air Force jet, for consultations. John Ehrlichman's handwritten notes of the meeting reflect the mood of urgency. ‘OK … Obtain and destroy all logs … Tell Hoover to destroy … Haig request the FBI (Sullivan) to destroy all special coverage.'

In Washington, Sullivan handed over two battered satchels containing the wiretap summaries. Mardian placed them in a locked vault, then waited for further instructions from the White House.

At the FBI, Edgar and Sullivan were at loggerheads. On August 28, after discussions with twenty-two colleagues, Sullivan sent Edgar a long letter laying out their differences. ‘I would like to convince you,' he wrote, ‘that those of us who disagree with you are trying to help you and not hurt you … This letter will probably anger you. In view of your absolute power you can fire me … or in some other way work out your displeasure with me. So be it …'

Edgar began the ensuing meeting with Sullivan with a harangue. He said he had given the matter ‘a good deal of prayer.' Then he began to sputter and stammer. When Sullivan advised him to retire, he said he would not. On the contrary, it was Sullivan who had to go. He was told to take leave due to him and apply for retirement.

Not knowing that the Nixon wiretap transcripts had been passed to Mardian, Edgar ordered other aides to look for them in Sullivan's office while he was at home in New Hampshire. The aides searched every file cabinet and drawer
and found nothing. When Sullivan returned, he refused to say what had become of the transcripts. ‘If you want to know more,' he said curtly, ‘you'll have to talk to the Attorney General.'

On October 1, pointedly leaving behind only his autographed photograph of the Director, Sullivan left the FBI for good. Mark Felt, who replaced him as Edgar's key assistant, briefed Edgar on the fruitless hunt for the wiretap records. Uncharacteristically, Edgar was lost for words. Then he shook his head. ‘The greatest mistake I ever made,' he murmured, ‘was to promote Sullivan.' He stood there, lost in thought, as Felt slipped quietly from the room.

Months later, when Edgar was dead and when the full significance of the wiretaps emerged – along with so many other Nixonian secrets – Felt wondered about the Director's silence. ‘It is very strange,' he mused, ‘that Hoover did not explain the entire situation to me … He knew the whole story.'

35

‘Anyone who opposes us, we'll destroy. As a matter of fact, anyone who doesn't support us we'll destroy.'

Egil Krogh, aide to President Nixon, 1971

O
n October 3, 1971, a Sunday, Assistant Attorney General Mardian asked John Ehrlichman to come and see him at home. The man who had custody of the wiretap transcripts was panicking.

‘Mardian was very afraid,' Ehrlichman recalled, ‘not only of the integrity of the files but also of his own personal safety. He felt he was being surveilled by Hoover, that it was only a matter of time before Hoover caused agents of the FBI to break into his office vault and recover the records …'

At a meeting in the Oval Office that week, Ehrlichman and Attorney General Mitchell asked the President for guidance on what to do with the transcripts. What they said emerged only in 1991, on newly released tape recordings:

MITCHELL:
Hoover is tearing the place up over there trying to get at them. The question is, should we get them out of Mardian's office before Hoover blows the safe … and bring them over here?

EHRLICHMAN:
My impression from talking with Mardian is that Hoover feels very insecure without having his own copy of those things. Because, of course, that gives him leverage with Mitchell and with you.

NIXON:
Yeah.

EHRLICHMAN:
Because they're illegal. Now he doesn't have any copies and he has agents all over this town interrogating people, trying to find out where they are. He's got Mardian's building under surveillance.

NIXON:
Now, why the hell didn't he have a copy, too?

EHRLICHMAN:
If he does, he'll beat you over the head with it.

NIXON:
Oh … you've gotta get them out of there.

MITCHELL:
Hoover won't come and talk to me about it. He's just got his Gestapo all over the place.

NIXON:
Yeah … just say [to Mardian] that we want to see them. Put them in a special safe.

As Nixon ordered, so it was done. The telltale wiretap evidence was moved from Mardian's office to a secure White House strongbox. Sullivan, moreover, told the President's men that, before leaving, he had ordered the Washington field office to destroy its file on the compromising wiretap operation.

Nixon's aides had been discussing how to remove Edgar from office for nearly a year. Once it had seemed politically risky to dump him, because he seemed too popular in the country. Now there were polls that showed the enthusiasm had waned, and a constant tattoo of criticism in the press.

Edgar made a speech about ‘journalistic prostitutes' and issued orders that no one in the Bureau was to speak, ever, with
The Washington Post, The New York Times
, the
Los Angeles Times
, CBS or NBC. Such tantrums, though, served only to convince White House advisers that the Director had become an embarrassing liability.

As early as January, the President himself had said Edgar was ‘a question.' Deputy Attorney General Kleindienst now made a habit of holding the phone away from his ear when Edgar called, grinning hugely and making circular motions in the air. ‘That man has been out of his mind for three years,' he told Sullivan after one such call. ‘How much longer do we have to put up with him?'

For all his public support of Edgar, Attorney General Mitchell assured colleagues privately that ‘we'll get rid of him soon.' According to Henry Kissinger, Nixon himself was ‘determined to get rid of Hoover at the earliest opportunity.'

One morning shortly before Sullivan's showdown with Edgar, Mardian had called several senior FBI officials, including Sullivan, into his office at the Justice Department. The atmosphere was conspiratorial. At a quarter to ten Mardian pointed to the clock. ‘At ten A.M.,' he said, ‘our problem with Hoover will be solved. It will all be over. The President has asked Hoover to see him at the White House at ten, and he's going to ask Hoover to resign.'

The call never came. Anticipation turned to doubt, doubt to frustration, and the men drifted disconsolately away. They soon learned that, back in his office after seeing Nixon, Edgar was triumphantly dictating memos. Far from firing him, the President had cleared Edgar to open a string of new FBI offices around the world, an expansion opposed by the Attorney General, the Secretary of State and several of the Director's own aides.

In the privacy of his office, Mardian called the White House to find out what had happened. ‘Nothing happened,' Ehrlichman told him irritably. ‘Nothing. Nixon couldn't pull the string … He got cold feet.'

‘I'm willing to fight him, but I don't,' the President said lamely at the Oval Office meeting on October 8, 1971. ‘We've got to avoid the situation where he could leave with a blast … I sorta, I went all around with him … There are some problems. If I fire Hoover, if you think we've got an uprising and a riot now … If he does go, he's got to go of his own volition …'

Two weeks later, Ehrlichman handed the President a special report on Edgar and the FBI. Further delay, it warned, could be disastrous:

The concern with image, the cultism, has finally taken its toll. Virtually any genuine innovation or imaginative
approach is stifled … Morale of FBI agents in the field has deteriorated badly … All clandestine activities have been terminated. Liaison with the intelligence community has been disrupted and key men forced out … Hoover has reportedly threatened the President … Years of intense adulation have inured Hoover to self-doubt. He remains realistic, however, and on June 30 his most trusted confidant, Clyde Tolson, stated to a reliable source, ‘Hoover knows that, no matter who wins in '72, he's through.'

Sullivan has been ‘keeping book' on Hoover for some time. He is a skilled writer. His book could be devastating should he choose to expose such matters as the supervisor who handled Hoover's stock portfolio and tax matters; the painting of Hoover's house by the FBI Exhibits Section; the ghostwriting of Hoover's books by FBI employees; the rewriting of FBI history and the ‘donation' by ‘admiring' facility owners of accommodations and services which are often in fact underwritten by employee contributions … The situation was probably best stated by Alfred Tennyson in
The Idylls of the King
:

The old order changeth, yielding place to new;

And God fulfils himself in many ways,

Lest one good custom should corrupt the world.

The report recommended that Edgar retire before the end of 1971, and Nixon agreed wholeheartedly. ‘Hoover,' he told colleagues, ‘has to realize that he can't stay forever … he's too old.' ‘I guess, I guess … I think I could get him to resign, if I put it to him directly that without it he's going to be hurt politically … But I want this closely held – it's just got to be.'

This time the operation was carefully planned, starting with a phone call from John Mitchell to Edgar's former aide Cartha DeLoach. ‘I walked into the Attorney General's
office,' DeLoach recalled, ‘and he told me to close the door. Then right out of a clear blue sky he told me, “We've got to get rid of Hoover, but we don't want him kicking over the traces. Can you suggest a way we might he able to do it without him saying or doing anything?” I said, “Well, if you're going to do it, you've got to allow him to save face. Let him keep his bulletproof car and his chauffeur. That's a mark of prestige, and he likes that. Let him keep Helen Gandy as his secretary, because she does ordering of groceries for him and paying of bills, all the things he's never had to do himself. Make him Director Emeritus, or Ambassador of Internal Security. And have the President call him once in a while, to ask for counsel and advice …”'