IT WAS THIRTY YEARS AGO TODAY,

RICHARD NIXON TAUGHT THE BAND TO PLAY

(June 17, 2002)

It started out as what one player in the drama contemptuously called a "third-rate burglary." It mushroomed into a scandal that toppled a President. The event was a break-in at a D.C. hotel and office complex called Watergate. For those of you too young to remember, gather round. Let me tell you how it happened, thirty years ago today.

Early on the morning of June 17, a security guard at the Watergate noticed that a stairwell door had been taped so that it would not latch. Incredibly, the 24-year old guard did not alert anyone. He just removed the tape. When he made his next round, however, the tape was back in place. It began to sink into the guard’s brain that perhaps something was amiss. He called the cops, who apprehended five men inside the offices of the Democratic National Committee. The men were carrying, among other things, rubber gloves, listening devices, tear gas pens, and $2,300 dollars in small bills. No one has ever figured out what the money was for. Maybe they thought they might get hungry and would want something from the vending machines.

From there, things got real interesting real fast. One of the burglars, James McCord, turned out to be security coordinator for President Nixon’s re-election campaign, the aptly named CREEP (Committee for the Re-Election of the President). The GOP (headed at the time by none other than current Pepsi and Viagra spokesman Bob Dole) denied all knowledge, as did the head of CREEP, who just happened to be Attorney General John Mitchell.

A pair of young Washington Post reporters named Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein decided to start digging. They discovered that a check originally donated to CREEP had mysteriously ended up in the bank account of one of the burglars. Whoops.

Woodward and Bernstein’s investigation continued through Nixon’s landslide re-election. Aided by a shadowy still-unrevealed source dubbed "Deep Throat," Woodward and Bernstein found the Watergate burglary to be just the tip of the iceberg. The Nixonistas had apparently been engaging in political espionage and sabotage on a scale that boggled the mind. President Nixon steadfastly denied any part in either the burglary or the subsequent cover-up.

Congress convened daily televised hearings. Grumbling by soap opera fans gradually gave way as the hearings turned into the original "must-see TV." Every day brought a new bombshell, culminating when Presidential Appointments Secretary Alexander Butterfield revealed that Nixon had been secretly taping all Oval Office conversations since 1971, including conversations about Watergate. It was the ultimate absurdity: the President was so paranoid, he even bugged himself.

Immediately, the tapes became the story. Congress demanded them. The President refused, citing "Executive Privilege," setting off a legal argument that persists to this day. Special Prosecutor Archibald Cox subpoenaed the tapes. Nixon fired him. The White House admitted that 18 1/2 minutes of one tape had been erased by, and I quote, a "sinister force."

The Supreme Court unanimously ordered the production of the tapes. The House Judiciary Committee passed the first of what looked to be several Articles of Impeachment, with six Republicans voting in favor. Nixon could see the handwriting on the wall and resigned on August 8, 1974.

I remember watching it on TV. I was twelve years old.

The Watergate scandal added new terms to our political language. Every scandal worth its salt since ends up with a "-gate" tacked on to it. Reagan had Irangate and Contragate. The Clinton years had more Gates than Kennedy Airport: Filegate, Travelgate, Troopergate, Monicagate, and finally, Pardongate. Then there’s that inevitable catch phrase "What did the President know and when did he know it?"

The story made instant stars out of reporters Woodward and Bernstein. They even got to see themselves portrayed on the screen by Robert Redford and Dustin Hoffman. This may have been good for the dynamic duo, but it was a disaster for journalism. The prime directive of the scribbling class became, not liberalism or conservatism, but careerism. Bring someone down, the post-Watergate career advice goes, then option off the movie rights and buy a house in the Hamptons. Everybody wants to be a star and journalism is the worse for it.

After Watergate, televised congressional hearings became a primary vehicle for political theater in America. Every obscure congressman with an ax to grind now wants a committee room, a TV camera, and a fistful of subpoenas. Even worse, Nixon’s brazen firing of Archibald Cox eventually led to the idea that instead of having a special prosecutor accountable to the president he was supposed to be investigating, we needed an "independent counsel," accountable to no one. The results have not always been salutary.

But Watergate’s saddest legacy is the effect it had on people's attitude towards government. Dark conspiracy theories at the highest levels became more than conceivable, they were (and are) quite plausible. After Watergate, cynicism was not just an accepted response to politics, it seemed like the only sane response.

Of course, that’s a doubled-edged sword. Healthy skepticism is a good thing. Watergate was the beginning of my career as a skeptic.

But it was a heck of a way for a twelve-year-old to learn about his government.

Dusty Rhoades lives in Carthage, practices law in Aberdeen, and yes, he was quite an unusual twelve-year-old.

COPYRIGHT 2002 BY JERRY D. RHOADES, JR.