Mallon Works Magic

Watergate a novel by Thomas Mallon.  Vintage.  429 pp.  *****

I’ve resisted the three political novels at the heart of Thomas Mallon’s recent work, Watergate, Finale, and Landfall, about three presidents whom I’ve always detested, Nixon, Reagan, and Bush (the younger).  Mallon and I are friends, though we haven’t seen each other in years, but I was slightly puzzled that this caring, compassionate, gay man was a Republican, and I was afraid that, if he wrote in favor of these men, it would make me angry, and the books would be hard to read.  He drew the line at Trump, withdrawing from the Republican party in 2016, and now he and I are on the same side of the vast political divide, though he might be closer to the precipice.

I was struck, however, when I read his recent diaries, that he actually broke down and cried on the day of Nixon’s death, admitting that the man had often let him down.  And of course, like any other sane human being, I’d much prefer Nixon—who may have been seriously paranoid but was intelligent—to what we have now.  And I will admit that, through the years, I softened on the man a little, as he did the interview with David Frost, and went through various difficulties in his life (I agreed with Ford’s pardon).  I would have preferred him to Reagan and Bush as well.  And I did admire his détente with China (and his capacity for alcohol at the ceremonies).

Despite the fact that I lived through Watergate, and followed it avidly, I know precious little about it.  I never read any of the books.  Once it was behind me, I was glad to get rid of it.  And Mallon admits—in fact insists—that this is a fictionalized version of the situation, that even his historical figures are fictionalized.  So I don’t know the truth of the matter, but according to Mallon, the central event that broke the case—the break-in at the Democratic National Committee—was the idea of G. Gordon Liddy, who was an old buddy of E. Howard Hunt and had done other covert operations for him.  John Mitchell was aware of the plan, though I wasn’t sure that he authorized it.

There’s no suggestion that Nixon knew about it originally, but he did play a part in the coverup, including funneling vast amounts of money to the co-conspirators (who faced vast legal fees in addition to living expenses).  The person who insisted on these fees was Hunt’s wife Dorothy (who died tragically in an airplane accident while the whole thing was going on).  The person largely in charge of arranging the funds was a rather non-political millionaire from Kentucky named Fred LaRue.  And all of Nixon’s henchmen were in on it to some degree.

All this to defeat George McGovern in 1972, who won exactly one state in the electoral college.[1]

Far more interesting than the political shenanigans is the personal lives of the characters, which are fascinating (and I’m sure Mallon would emphasize, fictional).  LaRue was a millionaire from Kentucky who came into money when his father was shot in a hunting accident.  There was always some question, even in LaRue’s mind, whether he was the one who had shot the man, and whether it was an accident (both men had been drinking, and they had a difficult relationship).  LaRue had wandered into the President’s orbit primarily as a fundraiser, and to help the Committee to re-elect the President.  He was on close terms with John Mitchell and his notorious loudmouth wife Martha.

Also important in the story, and in this unfolding novel, are Hunt, who was a spy novelist in addition to being a spy, and whom Mallon knew in New York when he was working for GQ; Elliott Richardson, who served in various posts in the administration and who was eventually important, as Attorney General, in bringing Nixon down (he was an unlikable character, however, and had presidential aspirations himself); Rose Mary Woods, Nixon’s longtime secretary and advisor, who famously deleted an important portion of the tapes that recorded information in the White House, and who was devoted to her boss beyond all reason; Alice Roosevelt Longworth, daughter of Teddy, the elderly woman who served as a canny political advisor to countless people and who is a kind of cynical Greek chorus to the whole proceeding; Pat Nixon, also devoted to Nixon, who opposed his resignation to the end (and who nevertheless had a clandestine lover, and got together with him when she was able to manage it); and of course, the man himself.

I have to say that, by the end of this novel, I felt for all of these people, including Nixon.  He was paranoid, he was foul-mouthed (so am I), he was politically ruthless and would have done anything to win (though not something so stupid as that half-assed burglary); he was also dedicated to his country and felt that, within the limits of the situation he was given, he was doing a lot of good.  By the end of the book, all his dreams are in tatters, and his life is unraveling; only some advice Mrs. Longworth offers finally helps.  But the fact that I finally felt for the man means that Mallon is almost a magician as a novelist.  And while I’ve admired many of his books, including Henry and Clara, this might be his best novel.  It certainly seems to be the most complicated plot.

I’ve always remembered something a Quaker said at Friends Meeting once, talking about some political maneuver as ignoring “the fallacious distinction between the ends and the means.”  I think of that phrase again and again.  People in general, and politicians in particular, are always cutting ethical corners, thinking that their cause makes them right.  But more and more as I get older, I feel that, if the means are wrong, the end can’t be right.  I’d say that even if the strategy succeeds.  Success is a relative term.

[1] This election was responsible for the greatest single piece of graffiti I ever read, in a toilet stall at Duke University.  “Don’t change Dicks in the middle of a screw/ Vote for Nixon in ’72.”