4 BECOMING THE SPOKESMAN FOR THE SILENT MAJORITY Spiro Agnew came to Washington in 1969 with little national stature de- spite his higher profile during the campaign. Four years later, he would be reelected vice president in a landslide, backed by a political base that personally identified with him. He had the admiration of a growing num- ber of the Republican faithful, particularly in the South and the Midwest, an understanding of international affairs, four years of experience as the No. 2, and was considered by journalists and party insiders to be a for- midable front- runner for the 1976 Republican presidential nomination. Much of the fascination with Agnew’s unlikely popularity centered on the question, “How did this happen?” The short answer is that Agnew, with a big assist from Nixon staffer Pat Buchanan, chose his targets and his method of political combat well. His use of public speeches to make skillful attacks on network television news, the New York Times, and the Washington Post endeared him to many Americans who felt marginal- ized by some notion of “the elite.” Chip- on- the- shoulder Republicans— who didn’t want to be talked down to by the Post’s Ben Bradlee, or the Sulzbergers of the Times, or Ivy Leaguers generally—thrilled to Agnew’s rhetoric. In addition to being a harbinger of things to come (see Don- ald Trump’s “failing New York Times”), his ongoing verbal assaults on students, faculty, and college presidents helped further the tribalism of “us” (hard- working, straight- talking Americans) versus “them” (Vietnam War– protesting, over- indulged, ivory- towered slackers). Agnew dug even deeper, challenging affirmative action and quotas at a time when the Re- publican Party wasn’t yet ready to cede that position to the Democrats. 100 SPOKESMAN FOR THE SILENT MAJORITY He barnstormed around the country in the midterm elections of 1970 taking no prisoners, disparaging radical- liberals or “radiclibs” (coarsened in today’s parlance to “libtards”) and those who would later be dubbed Republicans in Name Only (RiNOs). He became a sought- after Lincoln Day speaker to the faithful in the heartland, a top fund- raiser, and a fix- ture on news programs. Remarkably, Agnew became a force despite his poor relationship with Nixon, who sought to minimize his role, particularly in policymaking, at almost every turn. Nixon talked behind Agnew’s back, diminishing him repeatedly behind closed doors, and actively tried to replace him on the 1972 ticket with Treasury Secretary John Connally. At the end of four years, however, Agnew’s newfound national political power forced Nixon to keep him on as vice president. This chapter will explore Agnew’s jour- ney during the first term of the Nixon administration and trace his rise from political obscurity to potential powerbroker. Less than three years removed from his position as Baltimore County executive in Towson, Agnew had improbably ascended to the second- most important political position in the country. Sworn in by Senate Mi- nority Leader Everett Dirksen on January 20, 1969, the new veep wore a conservative steel- blue tie and looked the part, but he already felt iso- lated from the new administration. He perceived, correctly, that Nixon’s people viewed him as “the dumb rookie who said the wrong things.”1 Agnew’s lack of understanding about the ways of Washington was par- ticularly acute when compared to that of his new boss, who had spent his entire adult life wrapped up in the intricacies of elected politics and do- mestic and international affairs. To compound matters Nixon stocked his new cabinet and inner circle with well- educated and more- experienced Washington hands, including William Rogers (State), George Shultz (La- bor), Mel Laird (Defense), Henry Kissinger (National Security Coun- cil), and Daniel Patrick Moynihan (special advisor for urban affairs), among others. Like many presidents Nixon also had a tight circle of po- litical advisors that he had brought with him to Washington and who knew him from his many years in politics. This group included John Mitchell (attorney general), Maurice Stans (Commerce), Robert Finch (Health, Edu cation, and Welfare), H. R. Haldeman (chief of staff ), and 101 REPUBLICAN POPULIST John Ehrlichman (domestic policy advisor). Agnew, with just six years of elected state and local political experience and only a cursory relation- ship with Nixon, struggled to find his place. He had particular difficulty finding allies or relevance within the cabinet. It was an unexpected turn for Agnew because the first few weeks after the election had looked promising. Nixon invited Agnew and his wife, Judy, to his winter getaway in Key Biscayne, Florida, prior to the Janu- ary inauguration to discuss his responsibilities. He asked Agnew to take on policymaking tasks and flattered him by suggesting that he locate his office in the West Wing of the White House, a first for a vice president. Nixon also asked him to draw on his experience as a governor by taking on “the major responsibility” for federal/ state relations and urged him to get to know Congress and its members so that he might serve as their primary liaison to the White House.2 It seemed like a positive start to the working political relationship between the two men, and it boded well for Agnew’s own standing within the administration. But whether Nixon then had a change of heart or, more likely, this was classic Nixon disingenuousness, their relationship remained distant. The new vice president also didn’t make matters easy for himself, bring- ing in aides whose experience did not extend much beyond Maryland.3 His first chief of staff, Stanley Blair, had been a member of the Maryland House of Delegates from rural Harford County for a single term and then served a short stint as Agnew’s secretary of state during his truncated governorship. Art Sohmer, who had run Agnew’s successful campaigns for Baltimore County executive and later was his appointments secretary in Annapolis, followed Blair as chief of staff within Agnew’s first year in office.4 His first press secretary, Herb Thompson, had been the Annapolis bureau chief for the Associated Press, and his chief speechwriter, Cyn- thia “Cynnie” Rosenwald, was a “Baltimore housewife” whose primary experience was that she had written drafts of Agnew’s speeches when he was governor.5 With his inexperienced staff and his own naiveté about the ways of the capital, Agnew tried to find his early footing outside of Washington. In his first few weeks as vice president he gave perfunctory speeches to orga- nizations with little political value or visibility. The banality of his early 102 SPOKESMAN FOR THE SILENT MAJORITY public addresses, in light of his later use of high- profile speechmaking, is striking. His remarks in those first weeks were often delivered as pre- pared, with few notes in the margins. Agnew employed a standard script: a welcome, followed by a joke, a little substance, maybe a quick political shot, and then a succinct conclusion.6 Memos from Rosenwald in the first months displayed an abundance of deference toward Nixon’s staffers and publicists, even seeking approval for the use of jokes.7 In prepara- tion notes for his speech at the March 1969 Gridiron Dinner, the light- hearted Washington event for political journalists, Agnew solicited ideas from comedian Bob Hope. Among the quips Agnew chose not to use: “I hope that the next time the President goes on a trip, he will see fit to ask me to go. It is a little embarrassing following him around all day singing, ‘Take Me Along.’” But Agnew did take Hope up on a one- liner: “And when I go to the White House, I don’t have to use the back door. I go right in with the regular tour.”8 At least at the outset of his term Agnew seemed destined to play the traditional role of the forgotten vice president, constantly tugging on the president’s sleeve. The job of keeping the increasingly disgruntled and bored Agnew away from Nixon fell to White House chief of staff H. R. Haldeman.9 There are numerous references to “the Agnew prob- lem” in Haldeman’s diaries between 1969 and 1972. Nixon and his aides spent an inordinate amount of time figuring out how to cope with, and sufficiently occupy, the vice president. Keeping Agnew at arm’s length from Nixon was also a priority for White House staffers. An early entry in Haldeman’s diary, just a couple of weeks into the term, showed how flummoxed Nixon’s people were: “Strange problem with Agnew, who has hired LBJ’s top advance man as an administrative assistant. No one seems to be able to dissuade him, the guy has turned out to be a total spy.”10 In April Haldeman noted that Nixon had “decided [Arthur] Burns [a counselor to Nixon] should explain to Agnew how the Vice Presidency works.”11 Agnew quickly felt shut out; he wrote in his memoirs that he soon learned that “everything was run as a closed corporation. Haldeman and Ehrlichman didn’t tell me what they were doing. There was a lot of secrecy and jealousy and vying for the President’s attention among senior people. I finally got disgusted and started spending more time with my 103 REPUBLICAN POPULIST own staff across the street in the Old Executive Office Building.”12 Agnew soon gave up his West Wing office. Ehrlichman, the domestic policy -ad visor, would later recall that relations between Nixon and Agnew were very poor, both personally and professionally: “[Agnew] was continually badgering Nixon to give him more to do, and Nixon—and frankly all of us—lacked the confidence in Agnew to give him much substantive stuff to do.”13 As the spring progressed, however, it was clear that Agnew saw his public speeches as a pathway to relevance both inside the administration and on the national stage.