[The following is excerpted from Woodward and Bernstein’s “All The President’s Men,” 1974, published by Simon and Schuster, about the Washington Post’s investigative journalism into the “Watergate” case, which led to the resignation of President Richard Nixon. This is a great example of a case where the journalists were correct on the overall substance, but in spite of trying very hard to uphold standards of evidence in journalism, made an error with one critical detail.]
All the President’s Men – excerpt [pp 179 – 196]
The afternoon of October 24 [1972], they wrote the Haldeman story. Essentially, it contained only one new fact – that the fifth person who had been in control of the campaign’s funds for political espionage and sabotage was the President’s Chief of Staff. …
“I was absolutely convinced in my mind that there was no way that any of this could have happened without Haldeman,” [Bradlee] told the reporters later. “But I was going to do everything in my power to be sure that we didn’t clip him before we had him. I felt that we were aiming higher and I suspected that you guys … had him in your targets maybe even before you should have. That maybe you know it but you couldn’t prove it. I was determined to keep it out of the paper until you could prove it.”
During that 7:00 p.m. meeting, just before the deadline, Bradlee served as prosecutor, demanding to know exactly what each source had said.
“What did the FBI guy say?” Bradlee asked.
The reporters gave a brief summary.
“No,” Bradlee said, “I want to hear exactly what you asked him and what his exact reply was.”
He did the same with Deep Throat, and the doorstep interview with Sloan.
“I recommend going,” Rosenfeld said.
Sussman agreed.
Simons nodded his approval.
“Go,” Bradlee said.
On the way out, Simons told the reporters he would feel more comfortable if they had a fourth source. It was past 7:30; the story could not hold beyond 7:50. Bernstein said there was one other possibility, a lawyer in the Justice Department who might be willing to confirm. He went to a phone near Rosenfeld’s office and called him. Woodward, Simons and Sussman were going over the story a final time.
Bernstein asked the lawyer point-blank if Haldeman was the fifth person in control of the secret fund, the name missing from Hugh Sloan’s list.
He would not say.
Bernstein told him that they were going with the story. They already had it from three sources, he said; they knew Sloan had told the grand jury. All we’re asking of you is to warn us if there is any reason to hold off on the story.
“I’d like to help you, really I would,” said the lawyer. “But I just can’t say anything.”
Bernstein thought for a moment and told the man they understood why he couldn’t say anything. So they would do it another way: Bernstein would count to 10. If there was any reason for the reporters to hold back on the story, the lawyer should hang up before 10. If he was on the line after 10, it would mean the story was okay.
“Hang up, right?” the lawyer asked.
That was right, Bernstein instructed, and he started counting. He got to 10. Okay, Bernstein said, and thanked him effusively.
“You’ve got it straight now?” the lawyer asked.
Right. Bernstein thanked him again and hung up.
He told the editors and Woodward that they now had a fourth confirmation, and thought himself quite clever.
…
With the deadline only minutes off, the story dropped down to the composing room to be set. There would be an insert for the ritual White House denial.
Woodward called the White House press office and read the story to the deputy press secretary Gerald Warren, asking that it be confirmed or denied.
An hour later, Warren called back. “Your inquiry is based on misinformation because the reference to Bob Haldeman is untrue.”
What the hell does that mean? Woodward asked.
“That’s all we have to say,” Warren replied.
Woodward and Bernstein picked over the statement for some time. They decided that it was halfhearted and weak. They inserted it into the story.
… [later...]
“Hey,” said Wentworth, “have you heard about what Sloan’s attorney said?”
Woodward hadn’t.
“Sloan’s attorney said that Sloan didn’t name Haldeman before the grand jury. He said it unequivocally.”
Woodward was stunned.
…
Physically and mentally, the reporters were in no condition to deal effectively with the crisis. They were tired, frightened, and confused.
Soaked and shivering, Woodward called Sloan’s attorney again. This time he reached him and asked him to explain the meaning of his denial.
“Your story is wrong,” Stoner said icily. “Wrong on the grand jury.”
Woodward was at a disadvantage: he couldn’t betray Sloan’s confidence and tell Stoner that his own client had been one of the sources.
Was Stoner certain that Sloan hadn’t named Haldeman before the grand jury? Woodward tried to say it suggestively.
“Yes,” said Stoner. “Absolutely certain.” He anticipated the next question: “The denial is specifically addressed to your story. No, he has not said it to the FBI. No, he has not said it to any federal investigators.”
Woodward was breaking into a cold sweat. Had the entire thing been a set-up? He had not expected antagonism from Hugh Sloan’s attorney.
He tried another approach. Leaving aside the question of whom Sloan might have divulged it to, was the story’s essential fact correct? Did Haldeman indeed have control of the fund?
“No comment.” …
Painful as the answer could turn out to be, Woodward asked if an apology to Haldeman was in order. He couldn’t think of anything else to ask.
“No comment.”
Woodward told Stoner that the Post had a responsibility to correct an error.
No comment. …
Finally, Stoner said he wouldn’t recommend making any apology to Bob Haldeman.
…
At 8:45 P.M., Bernstein finally reached Hugh Sloan by telephone. Bernstein explained their dilemma: they realized they were in error, but they weren’t sure where.
Sloan was sympathetic. “The problem is that I do not agree with your conclusions as you wrote them.”
Haldeman had indeed controlled the fund, but the matter had not come up in the grand jury, right?
“Bob Haldeman’s name has never come up in my interviews with the grand jury. Our denial is strictly limited to your story. It just isn’t factually true. I never said it before the grand jury. I was never asked…”
Sloan’s message seemed clear, though not explicit. Haldeman had controlled the fund; the matter had not come up during his grand-jury testimony. Either the reporters had misunderstood what Sloan had told them about the grand jury earlier that week or Sloan had misinterpreted their question.
…
They had assumed too much. … They had not asked Sloan specifically what he had been asked before the grand jury, or what his response had been. In dealing with the FBI agent, … Bernstein’s questioning had been perfunctory. … There were other miscalculations. Bernstein should not have used the silent confirm-or-hang-up method with the Justice Department lawyer. The instructions were too complicated. (Indeed, they learned, the attorney had gotten the instructions backward and had meant to warn them off the story.) With Deep Throat, Woodward had placed too much faith in a code for confirmation, instead of accepting only a clear statement.
…
Now the pressure was off the White House because the burden of proof had shifted back to the Post. …
Deep Throat moved closer to Woodward. “Let me explain something,” he said. “when you move on somebody like Haldeman, you’ve got to be sure you’re on the most solid ground. Shit, what a royal screw-up!”
He stepped even closer, speaking in a whisper. “I’m probably not telling you anything you don’t know, but your essential facts are right. From top to bottom, this whole business is a Haldeman operation. He ran the money. Insulated himself through those functionaries around him. Now, how do you get at it? … Everyone goes chicken after you make a mistake like you guys made,” Deep Throat continued. “It contributes to the myth of Haldeman invincibility, adds to the fortress. It looks like he really stuck it in your eye, secretly pulling the strings to get even the Washington Post to fuck it up. … A conspiracy like this … a conspiracy investigation … the rope has to tighten slowly around everyone’s neck. You build convincingly from the outer edges in, you get ten times the evidence you need against the Hunts and the Liddy’s. They feel hopelessly finished – they may not talk right away, but the grip is on them. Then you move up and do the same thing at the next level. If you shoot too high and miss, then everybody feels more secure. Lawyers work this way. I’m sure smart reporters must, too. You’ve put the investigation back months. It puts everyone on the defensive – editors, FBI agents, everyone has to go into a crouch after this.”
…
April 30, 1973, quote from speech by President Nixon [p 311]:
“Today, in one of the most difficult decisions of my Presidency, I accepted the resignations of two of my closest associates … Bob Haldeman and John Ehrlichman … It was the system that has brought the facts to light. … A system that in this case has included a determined grand jury, honest prosecutors, a courageous Judge, John Sirica, and a vigorous free press. …”
May 1, 1973, UPI wire story: “White House Press Secretary Ronald Ziegler publicly apologized today to the Washington Post and two of its reporters for his earlier criticism of their investigative reporting of the Watergate conspiracy. … “In thinking of it all at this point in time … I would apologize to the Post and I would apologize to Mr. Woodward and Mr. Bernstein…”
March 1, 1974 [p. 335]
… the Washington grand jury that had indicted the original conspirators and burglars of the Democratic National Headquarters in 1972 handed up its major indictments in the Watergate cover-up case. It charged seven of the President’s former White House ad campaign aides with conspiracy to obstruct justice: Haldeman, Ehrlichman, Colson, Mitchell, Strachan, Mardian, and lawyer Kenneth Parkinson.
…
August 9, 1974, Richard Nixon announces his resignation of the office of President of the United States.