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AUG 6, 69

# Kissinger Briefs Lodge On Nixon Trip

PARIS (AP) — American presidential adviser Henry Kissinger conferred for more than an hour Monday with Ambassador Henry Cabot Lodge, chief U.S. delegate at the Vietnamese peace talks here.

Kissinger briefed Lodge on President Nixon's round-the-world tour, which included discussions with leaders in South Vietnam, Thailand and the Philippines.

A spokesman said the American delegation is in constant contact with Washington by telegraph and telephone, but that the Kissinger visit allowed a face-to-face meeting with a top White House policy maker.

Spokesmen, however, stressed that the Kissinger-Lodge meeting was not intended to be a preface for any new American move to get the peace talks off dead center.

Kissinger also began a round of talks with French leaders by visiting Premier Jacques Chaban-Delmas.

Accompanied by U.S. Ambassador Sargent Shriver, Kissinger was met by the French ambassador to the United States, Charles Lucet. Kissinger later had lunch with Foreign Minister Maurice Schumann and saw President Georges Pompidou.

Kissinger Briefs NATO Hq
On Nixon's World Journey

BRUSSELS (UPI) — Henry Kissinger, President Nixon's foreign policy adviser, reported Tuesday to NATO allies on the President's trip to Asia and Europe.

"The President asked me to visit NATO and report to the NATO Council on the trip to the Far East and Romania," Kissinger said as he came out of a 2½-hour meeting with NATO Secretary General Manlio Brosio and the heads of member nations at NATO headquarters.

"This was done," he added, "in a spirit of consultation and cooperation with the NATO organization.

"We had a full discussion and also discussed some other topics such as the strategic arms limitation talks and European security."

Kissinger, who Monday informed the French government

of the results of Nixon's trip, came to NATO headquarters in the suburb of Evere Tuesday morning with Ambassador Robert Ellsworth, head of the U.S. mission to NATO.

Kissinger first met with Brosio and then moved into the meeting room for the session with the ambassadors.

Kissinger added he had no

further consultations scheduled in Europe.

In answer to questions, he said the subject of European security also included the issue of a possible European security conference.

Asked whether they discussed China, he said, "We informed the council of our general attitude toward relations with Communist countries, which includes China."

He was asked whether he felt Nixon's trip was of historical importance.

"I believe we achieved what we set out to do. It is up to the historians to pass judgment," he said.

He cut short all further questions by saying he was not in a position to give further information as the President has not yet made a public report on his journey.

From NATO headquarters, Kissinger drove straight to the military airfield near Brussels to fly back to Washington aboard a U.S. Air Force plane.

We would like to show you Chromacolor instead of the simulated
TV picture above. Because it is impossible to accurately reproduce
the Chromacolor picture in a magazine, we invite you to visit a
Zenith dealer and compare Chromacolor with any other color TV.

Vol. 67 No. 10

LIFE

September 5 1969

CONTENTS

<table><tbody><tr><td>Column</td><td>4</td></tr><tr><td>Second reading: Bad vibrations from Woodstock.<br>By Barry Farrell</td><td></td></tr><tr><td>Gallery</td><td>6</td></tr><tr><td>Gordon Parks Jr. photographs his father's movie</td><td></td></tr><tr><td>Reviews</td><td>8-16</td></tr><tr><td>The Summer Leftovers. By William Zinsser<br>Movie: Spirits of the Dead, reviewed by<br>Richard Schickel<br>Book: The Cost of Living Like This, by James<br>Kennaway, reviewed by Melvin Maddocks</td><td></td></tr><tr><td>Letters to the Editors</td><td>18A</td></tr><tr><td>Nixon in White House West</td><td>18B</td></tr><tr><td>That San Clemente retreat is a breezy oasis<br>where the President feels comfortable.<br>Photographed by Arthur Schatz</td><td></td></tr><tr><td>The One-Man Roy Cohn Lobby</td><td>26</td></tr><tr><td>His friends and influence can take care of<br>almost anything, except perhaps a trial. By<br>William Lambert</td><td></td></tr><tr><td>Editorial</td><td>32</td></tr><tr><td>Nixon drug law: a crucial fault</td><td></td></tr><tr><td>Art</td><td>34</td></tr><tr><td>Poster Artist Peter Max is making his mark just<br>about everywhere</td><td></td></tr><tr><td>Gl Babies Come of Age</td><td>40</td></tr><tr><td>Rejected from birth, Japanese mixed-blood<br>children grow up as outcasts in their own country.<br>By Don Moser. Photographed by Co Rentmeester</td><td></td></tr><tr><td>Special Report</td><td>48</td></tr><tr><td>The Czechs protest a dark anniversary</td><td></td></tr><tr><td>Autocrat in the Action Area</td><td>50</td></tr><tr><td>For advice on foreign policy, the President<br>turns to Henry Kissinger every morning at 9.<br>By David Nevin</td><td></td></tr><tr><td>Threatened America</td><td>58</td></tr><tr><td>Last chance to save the Everglades-unless the<br>world's biggest jetport is stopped, we will lose a<br>unique wilderness. By John D. MacDonald.<br>Photographed by John Loengard</td><td></td></tr><tr><td>Miscellany</td><td>66</td></tr></tbody></table>

© 1969 TIME INC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. REPRODUCTION IN WHOLE OR PART WITHOUT WRITTEN PERMISSION IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED

COVER-HENRY GROSKINSKY design by PETER MAX 3-design by IRWIN GLUSKER 6, 7-GORDON PARKS JR. 8-drawing by FRANK MULLINS 1BB-A.F. exc. bot. It. EDWARD CLARK 19-ARTHUR SCHATZ 26, 27 DAVID GAHR for TIME 28, 29-cen. A.P., bol. cen. MITCHELL BLISS, DAVID GAHR for TIME 30-BOB PETERSON 31-BURT SHAVITZ 32-cartoon by LURIE 34, 35-PETER MAX photographed by HENRY GROSKINSKY 36, 37-HENRY GROSKINSKY 38, 39-PETER MAX photographed by HENRY GROSKINSKY 48, 49-HUBERT LE CAMPION 50, 50A, 53, 56, 57-ALFRED EISENSTAEDT 66-P. E. BOISVERT

September 5, 1969

Volume 67, Number 10

LIFE is published weekly, except one issue at year end, by Time Inc., 540 N. Michigan Ave., Chicago, Illinois 60611, principal office Rockefeller Center, New York, N.Y. (0029) James A. Linen, President; Richard B. McKeach, Treasurer; John F. Harvey, Secretary. Second-class postage paid at Chicago, Ill., and at additional mailing offices. Authorized as second-class mail by the Post Office Department at Ottawa, Canada and for payment of postage in cash, U. S. sub-scriptions $3.75 a year and Canadian subscriptions $3.75 a year.

EDITORS' NOTE

Have some more guacamole,
said the President

What the President of the United States said to the President of Romania was, "That's Arthur Schatz of LIFE. He follows me all over the world." What the President of Romania replied is unrecorded, but Schatz himself has given up counting presidential miles and now measures his coverage in terms of temperatures. He figures he has photographed Mr. Nixon over a span of 134°-from 114° above in Pakistan to 20° below in New Hampshire. It was at the start of the chilly New Hampshire primaries that Schatz and White House Correspondent Margery Byers first joined the Nixon entourage. They have been with it off and on ever since, and this week they report on the Western White House, in California, where temperature was not really the problem at all.

"Covering the President is an intriguing game," says Arthur, "and taking the picture is the easiest part of it. Sometimes it took Marge days and even weeks of negotiations to get permission for what we wanted, and then there is always stiff competition from the resident press corps when you try to get away with something special. For this story, perhaps because we'd been with the President since the beginning, things loosened up a bit. Once, when the rest of the press was leaving the summer White House to wait for the next 'photo opportunity' at a nearby hotel, I got a wink from an official and ducked out of sight and stayed behind. When I'd made my pictures, I was sent home in an official car with a Marine driver-and, to my horror, pulled up beside a large parked car full of the other photographers. It would never do-at least until the magazine came out-to let them know I'd had a special privilege, so I hid on the bottom of the car with a coat over me until they'd gone away."

"The President is a very private man," says Marge; "he does not like to be caught off guard and is not completely at ease with the press -I'm not sure I'd be, either. But he can be surprisingly jovial and relaxed. Once, when I sat at his table at the Mexican lunch he gave in California, he asked that the centerpiece be taken away to give us more elbowroom and spent the meal urging us all to dip into the guacamole, touting the hot sauce, and telling us to have another taco and forget the waistline. Last summer in Key Biscayne, when someone teased him about his skill at mixing an absolutely perfect martini, he disappeared inside and emerged with a tray of six frosted glasses."

RALPH GRAVES
Managing Editor

SPECIAL EDITION

Appearing on the newsstands this week for $1.25 is a 64-page Special Edition of LIFE on the Woodstock Music Festival. Copies may be ordered by mail from LIFE, Time and Life Building, Chicago, Ill. 60611. Please send your name, street address, city, state and zip code with $1.50 (this includes the cost of handling and postage).

3

by Barry Farrell

I've been having trouble with my mental compass since coming home from Woodstock, and I'm afraid that nothing I've heard or read about it has been much help in setting me straight on what I saw there. The press and even the police seem content to write it off as a victory for peace and love, which, in a way, it was. But I would have thought that the significance of a half-million young Americans spontaneously creating a society based on drugs would have caused some slight concern. I half expected Senator McClellan, at least, to demand an investigation.

Not that I would have made a helpful witness—I went to Woodstock, after all, in pursuit of the promised Aquarian pleasures that lured the stoned multitudes. Beyond that, the experience turned out to involve so many incongruities and surprises and so much that seemed to belong to the future that my memory of it resembles a flying-saucer story, where you get caught in a three-day time warp and witness a universe of wonders from some forgotten swamp.

I knew I was in for more than a mere festival from the mood of the approach. The road was like a Day-Glo Ganges cutting through the safe billiard green of Archie and Jughead's America. Townsmen stood at the roadside for miles around, observing the exotic pilgrimage with smiling faces and ambiguous eyes, conveying just the shade of nervous welcome they prayed would keep the peace. White-haired ladies waved V from their porches, as did squads of Jewish Boy Scouts in short pants and yarmulkes.

But the sights along the road left me unprepared for the jolt of laying eyes on the ceremonial pasture itself—a good 30 acres, filled to the horizons with a stew of cushioning bodies, nestled together, it seemed, as nicely as puppies in a pet store window. It was as if the population explosion had occurred then and there in the burst of a stupendous life-bomb.

The impact on the eye brought strong emotions welling up in everyone—I felt

brotherly and joyous, awed and a little alarmed. I even felt a surge of patriotism for the country that had created, however accidentally, such a vast, benign generation. Everywhere I looked, people stood gaping at the spectacle. No one could pretend to have any experience to compare with what lay before him, and feelings of nationhood were quick to grow from being caught, one and all, in the same historical pinch. No one seemed to doubt that we were crossing a cultural Rubicon.

Until that moment, I would have stopped short of calling rock-dope an American religion. Now I am struggling to think of another religion that could summon such a mass of believers whose life-style and social ethic has so much in common. Many minds seized upon the metaphor of religion that day: the people were seekers, the rock stars their prophets, drugs pretty nearly their staff of life. As one might expect of such an electro-chemical church, the prophets had little to say by way of guidance. Richie Havens, the first to perform, set the standard for philosophical speculation when he took the mike and said, "Wow! Phhhew! I mean like wow! Phhhew!"

The scene by night was more dramatic still, disclosing an image of the future worthy of Orwell or Huxley. From the fringes of the crowd, the stage looked like a pearl at the bottom of a pond, a circle of acid-tinted light fired down from towers as big as missile gantries. Just beyond it, helicopters fluttered in and out of a landing zone ringed with Christmas lights, bringing in the rock groups, evacuating casualties and stars. Much music was lost under the beat of their blades—an annoyance, until it was perceived as a higher music than rock alone: rock-helicopter music, space music to accompany the sound-and-light vision of the American '70s.

The speaker's expert voice purred across the breadth of the vast crowd, reading off lists of the injured and ill, urging respect for the fences. In the newspeak of our age, he praised the crowd for being groovy, cautioning them not to blow the cool thing they had going by breaking any house rules. Then he would give way to another rock group, and the prophets would appear, tiny forms bathed in lurid light, moving a half-beat ahead of the thunderous sound of their music.

By the festival's last night, the field had turned to slime, and abandoned sleeping bags lay sprawled underfoot like corpses. But the crowd was scarcely diminished. Many had wrapped themselves in plastic covers, like figures in a painting by Hieronymus Bosch. The rest stood shivering under soaked coats and blankets. Their bonfires, fed with newspapers and milk cartons, cast up a stench that hung above the meadow in a yellow haze. Ambulance beacons swirled through the trees. On the dark roads, the pilgrims had become refugees. Unseen faces whispered the names of drugs to passing strangers. "I got hash, speed, acid, downers, snap-pers and glue." At the central cross-roads, anxious voices shouted the names of lost friends into the bewildering night. Gloria! Donald!

The great stoned rock show had worked a counter-miracle, trading on the freedom to get stoned, transforming it into a force that tamed and numbed and kept tens of thousands content to sit in the mud and feed on a merchandised version of the culture they created. In the cold acid light, the spoiled field took on the aspect of a concentration camp, a camp of the future, stocked with free drugs and music, staffed with charming guards. The speaker's coaxing voice only encouraged the nightmare, which became complete when I asked a shuddering blue-faced boy standing next to me if he was sure he felt all right. "Groovy," he said, adding a frozen smile.

Only the rare crank came away from Woodstock with complaints. Most took it as a thrilling confirmation rite, some kind of triumph for the youth rebellion. But as one who has believed that the justification for using drugs lay somewhere in the zone of psychic freedom, I was disturbed by the bovine passivity they induced in this mass of free minds. For almost everyone present, the freedom to get stoned together was more than freedom enough.

The Rubicon we felt ourselves crossing was the line of restraint between the old drug culture of the underground and some new authorized form, dangerously adaptable to the interests of packagers, promoters, the controllers of crowds. It was a groovy show, all right, but I fear it will grow groovier in memory, when this market in our madness leads on to shows we'd rather not see.

["LETTERS TO THE EDITORS", "SANTA RITA NIGHTMARE", "Sirs:", "The report by Jesse Ritter on the Santa Rita prison (\"Nightmare in a California Jail,\" Aug. 15) read like one of the worst episodes in *Darkness at Noon* or *Babi Yar*. It was appalling simply as a description of what some human beings do to other human beings.", "CYNTHIA WOO", "San Francisco, Calif.", "Sirs:", "Mr. Ritter was a \"law-abiding citizen who wandered into a mass arrest.\" The important question is, would this treatment be any more acceptable if he were \"guilty\" of being young and a demonstrator?", "ELLEN MINTZ", "Hempstead, N.Y.", "Sirs:", "Even more frightening than the savagery is Sheriff Madigan's statement that many of the guards are Vietnam veterans who felt the protesters should be treated like Vietcong. If this is what the war is doing to our young men they should be brought home before any more of them become mindless sadists.", "CHRIS CALLAHAN", "Washington, D.C.", "Sirs:", "The most \"brutalizing influence\" for our Vietnam servicemen has been the news from home. They know that mobs of demonstrators are giving aid and comfort to Ho Chi Minh and prolonging a conflict in which hundreds of their buddies are being killed. Don't be surprised if a few of our Vietnam veterans turn out to be fiercely antagonistic toward the American \"allies\" of Ho and Mao. Sensationalized and exaggerated though it sounds, perhaps Mr. Ritter's brief nightmare is less than poetic justice compared with a year of enemy terrorism in South Vietnam.", "GLADYS S. ZEHNPENNIG\nWinchester, Va.", "Sirs:", "A footnote: Lieutenant Howard Davies, who was in charge of the booking process on May 22, was demoted and suspended by Sheriff Frank Madigan on July 2. On Aug. 9 the Alameda County Civil Service Commission took just 15 minutes to grant Davies' appeal of Madigan's punishment by revoking the demotion and restoring a fat loss of pay. The commission said Lieutenant Davies' fault was one of omission rather than commission. In other words, Lieutenant Davies was immediately in charge, he knew what was being done to the prisoners, but he did nothing about it.", "JOHN W. MCCLURE", "Livermore, Calif.", "► Lieutenant Davies has been trans-", "ferred from Santa Rita to a sub-station in San Leandro, Alameda County. Of the other three officers who appealed, one retracted his appeal and accepted his original penalty; the other two will be heard in early September.—ED.", "Sirs:", "Would someone please tell a confused World War II veteran what I spent five years of my life fighting for? If this sort of thing can go on in America, God have mercy on my stupidity as to what democracy is all about.", "JOHN C. GUTHRIE", "Dallas, Texas", "RUSSELL BAKER", "Sirs:", "Hooray for Russell Baker and his enlightening article \"The Good Things That Undone Poor Gum\" (Aug. 15). It was the saddest funny article I've ever read. We should all face the fact that no matter how helpful the media try to be by informing us to as new dangers, we are being terribly frightened and are living in fear of living.", "GERI B. SMIRALDI", "Clifton, N.J.", "Sirs:", "So true, so true. Terror lurks everywhere, but Russell Baker's article dispels the terror and makes one laugh a hearty healthful laugh—or is laughing bad for the blood vessels?", "MARGUERITE BUESSOW", "Tarrytown, N.Y.", "THE DOLLAR SQUEEZE", "Sirs:", "The arithmetic shown in \"The New Math of Inflation\" article (Aug. 15) is inaccurate. The \"real gain in income\" shown in the table accompanying the article underscores the actual situation quite considerably", "In developing that table, 1969 after-tax incomes were apparently reduced by 26% to compensate for the inflation experienced over the past 10 years. Actually, the after-tax figures should have been divided by the price-index value of 126 to make the intended adjustment. For example, an item which cost $1.00 in 1959 is presumably now selling for $1.26. To convert the latter figure to 1959 dollars, it is necessary to divide by the indicated price index.", "Accordingly, if we recalculate correctly the situation cited in the LIFE story, a family with $15,000 this year should have a disposable income of $9,420 in terms of 1959 prices, not $8,780 as reported.", "LIFE's figures also appear questionable on a second count—the assumption that average family income increased by only 50% over the past 10 years. Although there is no precise information on this point, there is evidence which strongly suggests that most", "of us have fared a lot better than that. According to the Department of Commerce, for example, per capita personal income increased by almost 70% in the past 10 years.", "FABIAN LINDEN", "Manager, Consumer Economics", "Department", "National Industrial Conference", "Board", "New York, N.Y.", "► Staying within a 50% average family increase, but revising the computation in accord with Mr. Linden's correct formula, produces the income figures below. These show that taxes and inflation have taken less than LIFE's original figures indicated, but still enough to account for the public furor over taxes and inflation reported by the Harris Poll.—ED.", "<table><thead><tr><th>If you made this much in 1959 and have been raised 50% since then</th><th>Your apparent income in 1969 $ is</th><th>But your real gain in 1959 $ is</th></tr></thead><tbody><tr><td>$3,000</td><td>$4,500</td><td>$350</td></tr><tr><td>4,000</td><td>6,000</td><td>520</td></tr><tr><td>5,000</td><td>7,500</td><td>635</td></tr><tr><td>6,000</td><td>9,000</td><td>745</td></tr><tr><td>7,000</td><td>10,500</td><td>845</td></tr><tr><td>8,000</td><td>12,000</td><td>965</td></tr><tr><td>9,000</td><td>13,500</td><td>1,070</td></tr><tr><td>10,000</td><td>15,000</td><td>1,210</td></tr><tr><td>11,000</td><td>16,500</td><td>1,310</td></tr><tr><td>12,000</td><td>18,000</td><td>1,280</td></tr><tr><td>13,000</td><td>19,500</td><td>1,355</td></tr><tr><td>14,000</td><td>21,000</td><td>1,375</td></tr><tr><td>15,000</td><td>22,500</td><td>1,450</td></tr><tr><td>16,000</td><td>24,000</td><td>1,520</td></tr><tr><td>17,000</td><td>25,500</td><td>1,600</td></tr><tr><td>18,000</td><td>27,000</td><td>1,625</td></tr><tr><td>19,000</td><td>28,500</td><td>1,605</td></tr><tr><td>20,000</td><td>30,000</td><td>1,625</td></tr><tr><td>25,000</td><td>37,500</td><td>1,855</td></tr><tr><td>30,000</td><td>45,000</td><td>2,050</td></tr><tr><td>35,000</td><td>52,500</td><td>1,895</td></tr><tr><td>40,000</td><td>60,000</td><td>1,770</td></tr><tr><td>45,000</td><td>67,500</td><td>2,245</td></tr><tr><td>50,000</td><td>75,000</td><td>2,770</td></tr></tbody></table>", "Sirs:", "I read Joe McGinniss' article on the Mrak family (\"A Family Struggles To Stay Even,\" Aug. 15) with a strong sense of identification—until the concluding paragraphs which seemed to broadcast \"despair.\" Phooey.", "If Frank Mrak is 44, he wasn't taught that happiness arrives with a house in the suburbs and a color TV in the basement. That was a couple of decades later. He was taught that a real man is self-sufficient; that his joy is in his family; that four good kids and a wife who will sort coupons together, go shopping together and build a bathroom together are true riches.", "The pride a consumer feels when he can handle his resources so wisely may not have been communicated to Mr. McGinniss, but it is surely there. \"Lack of a sense of worth,\" indeed!", "MRS. HARRY R. DAVIS", "Hemingford, Neb.", "Sirs:", "Bargain-hunting at various markets, I begin to feel like a monkey trained to perform a series of meaningless acts in exchange for a food pellet. If you don't mind a blunt question: who is the system working for?", "MRS. NOEL THOMPSON", "Seattle, Wash.", "Sirs:", "You stated that Mr. Mrak purchased a 230-pound side of beef for $178.00. This figures 77.3¢ per pound. Never in the history of this nation has beef been this high. You can buy U.S.D.A. choice steer beef at $44.75 to $49.00 per hundredweight and heifer beef at $46.00 to $47.00 per hundredweight at the Omaha dressed meat market (the U.S.A.'s largest market) as of Aug. 14, 1969.", "Food is still the cheapest thing in the U.S.A., meat included. The American feeds his family better on about half the working hours that it takes to feed a family nearly any place else in the world.", "JOEL E. TEETERS", "Lingle, Wyo.", "► Mr. Mrak's $178 also bought 20 pounds of ground chuck. And while he didn't make a killing, neither was he gypped. According to the Agriculture Department, he paid $11.50 (or about a nickel per pound) more than a wholesaler would have paid for an equivalent amount of retail-cut meat.—ED.", "Sirs:", "We have inflation here too. However, we have still another, more pressing problem—unemployment—thanks to that third item on the \"where to cut federal spending first\" list. The space program has been cut. Over 5,000 people received their notices (\"pink slips\") on Aug. 15. Mr. Mrak's taxes are going up —to pay for our unemployment compensation.", "GRETCHEN D. DEMOLE", "Titusville, Fla.", "Sirs:", "Next to the war in Vietnam the excessive demands of organized labor run a close second in causing inflation.", "H. L. DAVIS", "Los Angeles, Calif.", "Sirs:", "It would be interesting to know how the word greed would have fared, percentagewise, in the causes of inflation.", "BILL MARTIN", "Waco, Texas", "LETTERS", "Sirs:", "Considering all the complaints one hears about the cost of the Apollo program including James Holden's (Leters, Aug. 15), one would think the astronauts had taken all that money to the moon with them and left it there.", "ELSE BROWNELL", {"bbox": [842, 1

LIFE

Vol. 67 No. 10 Sept. 5, 1969

A breezy oasis where a President can feel at home

WHITE HOUSE WEST

These fellows who become President like to go back home and buy the big house on the hill. And when they have been poor boys like Richard Nixon and Lyndon Johnson, boys who had to hustle in the mornings on foot or horseback, it is all the sweeter to arrive with fleets of jets, helicopters, limousines and golf carts.

Dwight Eisenhower, the soldier who never really had a home in his adult years, chose the historic acres of Gettysburg and there erected his farm complex, then followed his golfer's instinct to Palm Springs. John Kennedy, the man of the sea, had the compound at Hyannis Port and his father's Palm Beach villa. L.B.J. added a lot of new wrinkles to presidential living, including a jet strip and a carpeted hangar, with his spread down along the Pedernales. Nixon has used all the power and

perquisites of the office to transform a dusty bluff and a slightly worn old mansion into a breezy oasis from which he and his government can operate the country while indulging in all the bounties of his native southern California.

Last week, when Nixon had Johnson in for a little birthday party on L.B.J.'s 61st, the two swapped tales about Air Force One, presidential libraries and how to get away from it all, the normal chit-chat in the club of Presidents and ex-Presidents. For all his studied casualness, Johnson could be seen casting an appreciative eye over the Western White House, the most complete and beautiful home away from home any President has had in recent years. Indeed, Nixon has truly spread out the Presidency. It now stretches 925 miles south of Washington to Key Biscayne, where there are two beach homes and the yacht *Julie*, forming the winter way station, and then 2,300 miles west to San Clemente, where the President plans to spend a couple of months out of each year. The network is linked by wire and the huge military jets which can get the Cabinet or National Security Council to the President's side in half a day. Key staff members have found apartments and homes to rent in those lovely western hills for the long sojourn. White House police

have been flown in to man the guard stations, and mess attendants to service the dining room in one of the two new office buildings constructed only 400 yards from the house.

Nixon's joy at being back home and in charge of the world is plain for all to see. He has taken up golf again publicly, even added his own new dimension by helicopering to a different course almost daily. Before too long, work will be completed on a 4-hole course next to his property, the gift of fellow golfers in Orange County. Each tee will be marked with a small presidential seal on a picture of a golf ball. Then there is the new swimming pool, the dazzling new landscaping, 350 feet of guarded beach and water. The working area has a new helicopter pad, situation room, staff offices with sun terrace, and a thickly draped and carpeted presidential office with walnut walls, a borrowed Utrillo (*Théâtre de l'Atelier à Montmartre*) for the anteroom, and a sweeping view of fresh saplings and that blue ocean.

Even in the midst of all of this there is still something austere about Nixon, as if he had been permanently marked by those old grocery store days down the road in Whittier. He still works much in solitude with little more than a yellow tablet and his Parker pen.

But the cool, bright days in the mansion at San Clemente are loosening him up. The President has a pair of alligator shoes and a blue blazer, and at poolside they transfigure him into a man concerned about weather and fivecard stud and the 13th green. What cares are not put in perspective there are eased by the ceaseless surf below.

Nobody can really calculate the cost. Certainly it is in the millions—from both public and private pockets. But it is nothing if it lightens the President's burden. History is filled with tragedies brought on by exhausted men. Kennedy counted fatigue as one of his greatest White House enemies, and he insisted on his naps and weekends, his summer and winter interludes. Nixon blames tiredness for his defeat in 1960. He is wisely determined not to add that to the difficulties of being President.

HUGH SIDEY

J.F.K. captains a yacht on the Atlantic

L.B.J. rounds up yearling on the ranch

Gentleman farmer Ike at Gettysburg

President Nixon on the steps of his hacienda

188

His friends and influence can take care
of almost anything—except perhaps a trial

# The Hotshot One-Man Roy

Last Oct. 8, as the polls showed Richard Nixon running substantially ahead in the campaign for the Presidency, Roy Cohn moved to lend a hand. With his law associate, Thomas Bolan, he convened a luncheon meeting of perhaps a dozen wealthy New Yorkers at the quietly genteel Lotos Club in Manhattan's East 60s. Prominent among those present were two leading Nixon campaigners: chief fund-raiser Maurice Stans, who would become Nixon's Secretary of Commerce, and Louis Nichols, a former assistant director of the FBI and, until late last year, executive vice president of Schenley Industries.

Cohn, a registered Democrat, was blunt about his interest in the campaign. He had been having a lot of legal troubles and court actions. What, he asked the visitors, would a Nixon administration do about his two chief tormentors, Chairman Manuel Cohen of the Securities and Exchange Commission, and Robert Morgenthau, U.S. Attorney for the southern district of New York? Both Nichols and Stans disclaim any recollection of the discussion, but others present recall that their re-

sponse was forthright: Nichols guaranteed that Morgenthau would be replaced, and Stans gave assurance that a way could be found to force Cohen to resign. The luncheon group dispersed after signing checks and pledges to the Nixon-Agnew campaign totaling more than $40,000. Seven months ago, Hamer H. Budge replaced Cohen as head of the SEC. Morgenthau is still U.S. Attorney in New York City, but rumors of his imminent replacement have recurrently appeared in the press.

It is known that Nixon had expressed dissatisfaction with Cohen long before his election and Morgenthau, in spite of a distinguished record as a prosecutor, is a Democrat and can hardly be classed as a Nixon man. Thus Cohn can hardly claim to have engineered anything with a campaign contribution. (His share of the kitty, $9,000, was paid by three bad checks on an account in a bank he controlled in Illinois; only after a number of urgent exchanges between Cohn's partner Bolan and bank officials was the check honored, after enough funds had been telegraphed to cover it.) But extent of influence aside, at this

point in his remarkable career nothing could be more to Roy Cohn's wishes than the dismissal of Morgenthau. In a few weeks Cohn is scheduled to come to trial on charges of conspiracy, mail fraud, bribery, extortion and blackmail. The case was developed by Morgenthau's office. Thanks mainly to Cohn's noisy insistence that the attorney is persecuting him, the trial—whose issues will not be weighed here—shapes up as the critical confrontation of a long-run grudge match.

The battle between the two men goes back almost to the start of Morgenthau's first term as U.S. Attorney in 1961, when an investigation of swindler Alexander Guterma happened to turn up Cohn. Guterma went to prison and ultimately Cohn himself was indicted for obstructing justice. His first trial, in 1964, ended in a mistrial; his second in acquittal.

It was then that Cohn raised the cry of "vendetta" he has been repeating ever since. As he tells it, he had, during his McCarthy Committee days, "exposed" the involvement of Mor-

26

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Prof. Henry Kissinger and his boss

The Man in the White House Basement PAGE 21

He is that most unlikely of celebrities—a middle-aged, European-
born professor who spends most of his fifteen-hour working days
laboring in a basement. But the basement is at 1600 Pennsylvania
Avenue and the professor's name is Henry Kissinger, President Nix-
on's national-security adviser and one of the most influential men in
Washington. Together, the President and the professor are reshaping
American foreign policy in a carefully calibrated effort to extricate
the U.S. from the war in Vietnam and to evolve a new world posture
for the nation in the 1970s. Who is Kissinger? How does he view the
world? How does he work with the President? As a Newsweek White
House correspondent, Joel Blocker has kept close watch on Kissin-
ger since the beginning of the Nixon Administration. From conver-
sations with Kissinger and talks with his colleagues and critics, Sen-
jor Editor Blocker writes this week's cover story. (Newsweek cover
photo by Wally McNamee.)

'Critics' Choice—1969

You can't tell a record by its jacket, or a book by its wrapper. So this week Associate Editor **Geoffrey Wolff** gives his choice of the best in the year's fiction and nonfiction (page 97), and Music editor **Hubert Saal** casts his vote for the most interesting pop and classical records of 1969 (page 106).

The Palestinian Commandos PAGE 37

The most dramatic development in the Middle East since the six-
day war of 1967 has been the emergence of the Palestinian com-
mandos as a political and military force to be reckoned with—both
by the Israelis and by the Arabs. Drawing upon files from Milan J.
Kubic in Beirut and Michael Elkins in Jerusalem, General Editor
Angus Deming assesses the strengths and weaknesses of the guer-
rilla movement. In a companion piece, Associate Editor Raymond
Carroll describes the dilemma of U.S. foreign policy on the Mideast.

On the march: Arab guerrillas in a training exercise

Newsweek

Contents

December 22, 1969

NATIONAL AFFAIRS

19

Congress: a setback for civil rights, and a
muddled tax-reform bill

The President: ahead on the Vietnam issue

Henry A. Kissinger, the President's chief
foreign-policy adviser (the cover)

Crackdown on the Black Panthers

The Feds move against New Jersey racketeers

Chappaquiddick: and now the inquest

INTERNATIONAL

33

West Germany looks east

Tunisia's flood disaster

Mideast: the growing Arab guerrilla threat,
and the U.S. policy dilemma

Greece stalks out of the Council of Europe

Prague's convenient verdict on Masaryk

Black power—and grievances—on Okinawa

Kenya: democracy at work

Ethiopia: death to hijackers

THE WAR IN VIETNAM

52

What really did happen at Song My?

Rifts in Hanoi's "collective leadership"

THE CITIES

60

The trouble with the U.S. street scene

The United Fund under fire

Launching a Washington, D.C., subway

MEDICINE

67

Must psychiatrists tell all in court?

RELIGION

69

The Vatican and the Jews

New York's new Episcopal bishop

SPORTS

70

The other Nixon—sports fan No. 1

The woman who covers pro football

EDUCATION

72

Students take up the antipollution cause

SCIENCE AND SPACE

73

The moon's puzzling age gap

Piercing the pulsar mystery

BUSINESS AND FINANCE

74

Slowdown—apparent or real?

The private tax-loophole amendments

Russia's international gas deals

Labor: John L. wins again

The cushioned impact of defense cutbacks

Made in Toy Town, Japan

Advertising: ban Frito Bandito?

Wall Street: where will the money come
from?

THE MEDIA

90

The one-sided Presidential news conference

Chicago: how to tell the Panther story

Quality programs for young TV viewers

THE ARTS

THEATER

92

Broadway's box-office slump

BOOKS

97

1969—a rich year for the novel

MOVIES

100

"They Shoot Horses, Don't They?"—not
what it might have been

"John and Mary": doesn't add up to much

ART

105

Clyfford Still, abstractionist extraordinary

MUSIC

106

A selection of the year's records

OTHER DEPARTMENTS

Letters 4

Where Are They Now? 12

Periscope 17

Newsmakers 58

Transition 92

THE COLUMNISTS

Kenneth Crawford—The Tax-Relief Bomb 28

Milton Friedman—Economic Perspective 75

Stewart Alsop—A Call to Revolt 108

© 1969 by Newsweek, Inc., 444 Madison Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10022. All rights reserved.

DC

3

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## LETTERS

### Song My

After reading about the massacre of more than 100 Vietnamese civilians by some American soldiers (NATIONAL AF-FAIRS, Dec. 8), I repeated your account to some other people. I was appalled to find they passed it off as Communist propaganda without a second's thought.

We know now that most people in Germany during World War II were not aware of what their country was doing during the course of war, and I wonder if history is repeating itself here.

PETE ENGLANDER

Costa Mesa, Calif.

■ To separate the killing of innocents, one by soldiers with guns, another by bombs, seems a fine point of military distinction. It is also a monstrous hypocrisy.

The prosecution of Lieutenant Calley should be stopped. While the band plays and the President smiles, the flag flutters in the Washington sunshine and his relatives beam with pride, the lieutenant should be decorated.

He was trained to kill. He did a good job of it. He is, in short, a success—something every American admires, it doesn't matter much at what.

STERNER REMPLE

Pueblo, Colo.

■ Any "innocent civilian" who thinks he can feed, clothe, shelter and otherwise succor the Communists in their organized subversion and at the same time expect treatment different from that which he received at Pinkville, ought to have his rice bowl examined.

WILLIAM J. HOLDSWORTH
Providence, R.I.

■ Your story on Song My is contaminated by the double-think and self-deception that makes atrocity part of our way of life. In your article you say "... one soldier took a playful shot at a Vietnamese farmer's hat; he missed [and] blew the man's head off." If someone shot you in the head, would you say he had taken a "playful potshot" at your hat? But of course it was only a dink.

STEVE GILBERT

Albany, Ore.

■ Above all, do not let us react to this horror by swapping stories with the Viet Cong about who commits the biggest atrocities.

MARCIA ANGELL, M.D.

Piedmont, Calif.

### The 'Dink' Complex

We found the article, "GI's in Battle: the 'Dink' Complex" (THE WAR IN VI-ETNAM, Dec. 1), both accurate and

NEWSWEEK, December 22, 1969, Volume LXXIV, No. 25, NEWSWEEK is published weekly, $12 a year, by NEWSWEEK, INC. 350 Dennison Ave., Dayton, Ohio 45401. Printed In U.S.A. Second Class postage paid at New York, N.Y. and at additional mailing offices.

Registrado como artículo de segunda clase en la Administración Central de Correos de esta Capital, con fecha 17 de marzo de 1944, Mexico, D.F.

POSTMASTERS: Send form 3579 to NEWSWEEK, 117 East Third Street, Dayton, Ohio 45402.

4

NATIONAL AFFAIRS

news conference, 37 members of Congress filed into the Cabinet Room to present the President with petitions signed by precisely 363,053 backers of his Vietnam policy. After leafing through the boxes of petitions, Mr. Nixon let it be known that he planned to keep up the momentum with another public accounting on the war. The White House announced later that the speech-a short sequel to Mr. Nixon's Nov. 3 address--would be made this week. In it, he was expected to set the size of the next troop withdrawal. A cut of 50,000 men would bring the total for 1969 to the previously hinted-at goal of 100,000.

**Problems:** Later in the week Mr. Nixon launched a round of consultations with prominent figures outside his Administration. Among those who turned up at the White House were former Secretary of State Dean Acheson, former New York Gov. Thomas E. Dewey and retired Gen. Lucius D. Clay. But the principal visitor of the week was Lyndon B. Johnson. During a breakfast meeting in the White House family dining room, the President and the ex-President discussed the situation in Vietnam, along with some of the other delicate matters confronting the United States. Two hours after he arrived, Johnson emerged from the White House, climbed into a waiting limousine and sped off without pausing to comment on his talks with Mr. Nixon. Later LBJ told an intimate wryly: "I think I have some understanding of the President's problems."

Perhaps the surest evidence of Mr. Nixon's firm grip on the home front came at the weekend when the Vietnam Moratorium Committee launched the third round in what it once hoped would be a growing war on the war. Compared to the October and November moratoriums, the mid-December activities were decidedly low-key affairs. On both coasts of the country, where hundreds of thousands had mustered last month to protest against Mr. Nixon's conduct of the war, the December moratorium seemed half-hearted and uncoordinated.

**Sputtering:** For the moment, the peace movement seemed to be sputtering down. In Washington, leaders of the Moratorium Committee, plagued by a shortage of money and a decline in enthusiasm, abandoned the original concept of an escalating protest each month. "What could we do for eight days in May?" said Marge Sklencar, one of the prime movers behind the one-day October and two-day November demonstrations. Now, the moratorium people toyed with the idea of disbanding, or at least focusing on more modest goals such as the 1970 Congressional elections. Even here, however, there was further evidence that Mr. Nixon was winning the battle for public opinion. For a good many congressmen and senators up for re-election were openly wondering whether, given the current climate, hordes of youngsters working in their behalf might not hurt more than help.

Kissinger in the Situation Room: Endless hours of constant mental motion

Newsweek—Wally McNamee

# Mr. Nixon's Professor

## Kissinger and the New Shape of U.S. Foreign Policy

E xactly eleven months have passed since Henry Alfred Kissinger of Cambridge, Mass., went down to Washington, D.C., to hang his ersatz-parchment commission shingle, attesting to Richard Nixon's "special trust and confidence in your integrity, prudence and ability," on the wall of his shop at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. Physically, he has made few changes in the White House's west baseMENT, the traditional lair of the President's Assistant for National Security Affairs. The tiny, walnut-paneled Situation Room still looks more like a Holiday Inn conference chamber than the grotesque fantasy of Stanley Kubrick's "Dr. StrangeLOVE." Intelligence cables, which are supposed to keep Mr. Nixon in touch with reality, worldwide, continue to whir off the duplicating machines night and day. The battery of secretaries still looks properly harried, overworked and blandly expectant of imminent crisis, as befits an office where crisis is measured by the color of the telephone reporting it. There is only one really personal, and unintentionally ironic, Kissinger touch: in the far corner of his modest 16- by 21-foot inner sanctum, where the décor remains an undisturbing neuter, stands a battered old spin globe of the world, with a penciled note stuck inside its wooden frame, warning: "Do not touch-fragile."

Professor Kissinger, lately of Harvard, is not much given to material signs of status. Yet by any realistic standards of power and influence, he now ranks very high indeed. As the first year of the Nix-

on Administration draws to a close, Kissinger has firmly established himself as a predominant force in the shaping and implementation of U.S. foreign policy, a man on whom the President relies more than on any other in the White House and, consequently, one of the half-dozen most important personalities in Washington-and thus in the world.

In the blurry Milky Way of Nixonian Washington, Kissinger's star is one of the few to burn brightly and distinctly. Foreign diplomats treat him as a virtual Secretary of State ex officio; their wives vie for the pleasure and prestige of his company at ambassadorial dinner parties, where his attendance is duly noted in official cables home the next day. Kissinger sits in and speaks up at most Presidential encounters with world leaders. He spends more time with Mr. Nixon alone than any of his peers-an average of 90 minutes a day in and out of the Oval Office, uncounted minutes on the intercom phone, long informal chats at the Camp David retreat and on the beaches of Key Biscayne and San Clemente. He is admired, respected, resented, envied, even feared by the cumbersome national-security apparatus he is determined to change-that Byzantine labyrinth of the Pentagon, State Department, Disarmament, Information and other agencies whose chief reason for being, it often seems to the White House, is to preserve the status quo without endangering their own parochial interests.

Down to his bitten fingernails, horn-

December 22, 1969

□ 21

NATIONAL AFFAIRS

rimmed glasses and self-deprecating wit, Kissinger, 46, is unmistakably and unabashedly an Eastern intellectual in a government that has shown no great love for the genus. Improbably enough, however, his very cast of mind has given him real cachet and helped make him a celebrity in Washington—a remarkable achievement in itself for a deeply serious, slow-talking, graying, middle-aged professor who has never quite lost the traces of a Teutonic accent and manner he carried across the Atlantic when, as a Jewish refugee of 15, he fled Nazi Germany in 1938.

**Romance:** All of this makes Kissinger fine newspaper copy and a favorite subject, and frequent target, of cocktail and office chitchat. As one of Washington's most eligible bachelors (his fifteen-year marriage ended in divorce in 1964), Kissinger is pursued by gossip columnists

fifteen-hour days in the White House—buttressed by a talented staff of about three dozen experts and administrative aides handpicked from Washington officialdom and academic think tanks, many of whom match his weekly time-card record. (Several Kissinger staffers have been unable to keep up to the boss’s pace and have left. Policy differences played no role in any of these departures, though personality differences did.)

On the job, Kissinger is in constant
mental motion: monitoring and channel-
ing intelligence cables for the President's
“eyes only,” reading and criticizing enor-
mous reams of reports and papers; chair-
ing interdepartmental policy discussions
with Under and Assistant Secretaries for
whom he is often the sole link to the
Oval Office; receiving an endless stream
of official, diplomatic and journalistic visi-
tors; and responding to every Presiden-

Eisenhower's paper factory and relied
more on strong-minded national-security
assistants, McGeorge Bundy and Walt
Rostow, both imported from Cambridge
campuses. And now Kissinger, with the
blessing of a President with a passion for
neatness and order, is well along toward
effecting still another transformation of
the National Security Council organiza-
tion—this time into a systematic clearing-
house of policy ideas for Mr. Nixon, dom-
inated by Kissinger's own vigorous and
continual direction.

In the last hectic years of Johnson's reign, when Vietnam overwhelmed all other considerations, the guiding principle of the NSC seemed to be little more than ad hoc improvisation at Tuesday lunches in the White House. Mr. Nixon and Kissinger agreed well before Jan. 20 that this would no longer do. Their new system, they believe, insures that no policy idea reaches the President without having first undergone Kissinger's rigorous evaluation (unless, of course, it is personally conveyed to Mr. Nixon by the few Cabinet members and friends who enjoy such access). Kissinger's role is crucial at every stage of the making or changing of policy: he initiates studies on everything from U.S. strategic weapons needs in the '70s through the prospects for European unity to the definition of what constitutes a "fact" in Vietnam; he elicits suggestions from the bureaucracy and coordinates interagency action; he formulates the presentation of options with painstaking exactitude; and, not least important, he presents the final series of proposals to the President.

**New Approach:** "The essence of my job," Kissinger explains, "is to use a mechanism to change substance. My goal is a different and, I hope, better approach to policymaking within four years." He insists that he is open to all new ideas and that he goes out of his way to solicit and make them available to the President. To the suggestion that his own ideas must somewhere be inserted in the elaborate policy machine he has constructed for the President, Kissinger reacts with unusual passion. "There is no 'Kissinger policy' on any substantive questions," he insists, his hand stabbing the air for emphasis. "My task is to convey the full range of policy options to the President. If there were a 'Kissinger policy,' the whole new mechanism we have set up in the National Security Council—not to speak of relations between the governmental agencies—would be in a shambles."

Such disclaimers seem disingenuous to
many Washington officials, particularly to
those middle-echelon bureaucrats who
are convinced Kissinger has pre-empted
their policy-shaping prerogatives, turned
the White House basement into a "shad-
ow State Department" and thereby in
fact created an interagency "shambles."
But in public, at least, the once-outspoken
professor of government, who established
his international reputation on the basis

Newsweek—Wally McNamee

The President and his counselor: Common views and shared convictions

who record his quips and asides, follow
him to supermarkets and chronicle his
housekeeping trivia as well as his love
life. Barbara Howar, Washington's mod
Perle Mesta, is one of his dates (she calls
him "Super Kraut") and he sometimes
turns up at parties with magazine writer
Gloria Steinem. The odds-on favorite in
the Kissinger matrimonial sweepstakes is
a tall, blond New York socialite named
Nancy McGinnis, who once worked for
him as a researcher in the Rockefeller
Foundation. "Romance with a man tailed
by a bodyguard is about as sexy as tak-
ing a ride in a Brink's armored car," says
Barbara Howar with a sly smile. "He'll
never marry while he's holding this job."

Given Kissinger's formidable workload,
there is probably considerably less to his
self-proclaimed image as a "secret swing-
er" than meets the eye. Six days almost
every week and often on Sunday as
well, he puts in grueling twelve-

tial request for information and advice,
which can range from mundane statistics
on Micronesian demography to the life-
and-death matter of a downed U.S. spy
plane. Most of his meals, tasteless at
best, come from the nearby White House
mess. And on the few occasions he does
get to dine out in restaurants, Kissinger
invariably carries an electronic "call-boy"
that can summon him to instant com-
munication with the President.

Kissinger does more than merely cope,
however. Every President since Harry
Truman, who established the National
Security Council as the supreme arbiter
of Executive policy in 1947, has molded
its apparatus in his own image. Dwight
Eisenhower turned it into a staff-work
machine mostly employed in churning
out supposedly definitive—and often ir-
relevant—papers on every conceivable
policy question. John F. Kennedy and
Lyndon Johnson dismantled much of

Newsweek

22

of bold and unequivocal pronunciamentos on postwar U.S. policy, has studiedly re-frained from the slightest hint of a "Kissinger policy" in any way different from that of the government he serves. "I will not play the game of my predecessor," Kissinger has confided to friends on occasion. "I will not bad-mouth the President by taking credit for what goes right in our policies and blaming him for what goes wrong."

Yet so much of Kissinger's general approach to foreign affairs and specific views of world problems is on the record (box) that trying to distinguish between what is and what is not "Henry's contribution" to Administration policy has become an irresistible Capital pastime. So far, though, it has proved to be a frustrating game. For aside from the two principals themselves, no one really knows what really goes on when Richard Nixon and Henry Kissinger closet themselves to discuss policy.

**Accord:** What is clear, on the basis of the important Administration decisions taken this year, is that the two men hold common views on what should be the basic U.S. approach to foreign affairs in the '70s. Mr. Nixon's trip to Western Europe barely six weeks after he took office re-established that area as primary to the U.S. interest and, at the same time, served notice that the new Administration hoped the Europeans would in the future depend less on Washington than on themselves in solving Continental problems—two themes repeatedly stressed in Kissinger's writings during the past decade. Similarly, the President's early decision to construct a modified anti-ballistic-missile system and to undertake talks with the Russians on strategic-arms limitation (just recently begun in Helsinki) only after the most careful preparation, reflect a shared conviction. Kissinger and his boss both believe that negotiations with Moscow can only succeed if conducted with extreme caution and from a position of real strength.

Generally, too, the President and the professor agree that the U.S. must begin to disengage itself from many of the "bastions of the free world," especially in Asia. Commitments made during the cold war era—which is now, they both believe, slowly coming to an end—no longer seem valid or relevant or in the U.S. interest. If Mr. Nixon himself first spoke of moving from "a period of confrontation" to "an era of negotiation," it is a fairly safe bet that the notion of a new "low profile" for the U.S. originated in Kissinger's shop. And both slogans, repeated so often in recent months, are really expressions of the same fundamental idea: reduce the U.S. presence in the world of the '70s.

Slow disengagement and a lowered U.S. profile was therefore the message carried by the President on his Asian trip last summer. And, significantly, the new Asian policy was first announced publicly at Guam in a statement that contained unmistakable echoes of articles

## A KISSINGER PRIMER ON WAR AND PEACE

Whether in print or in conversation, Henry Kissinger is one of the most provocative diplomatic theorists of the postwar era. A sampling of Kissinger's mind at work:

Those ages which in retrospect seem most peaceful were least in search of peace. Those whose quest for it seems unending appear least able to achieve tranquillity. Whenever peace—conceived as the avoidance of war—has been the primary objective of a power or a group of powers, the international system has been at the mercy of the most ruthless member of the international community. Whenever the international order has acknowledged that certain principles could not be compromised, even for the sake of peace, stability based on an equilibrium of forces was at least conceivable.

—"A World Restored," 1957

It is a mistake to assume that diplomacy can always settle international disputes if there is "good faith" and "willingness to come to an agreement." For in a revolutionary international order, each power will seem to its opponent to lack precisely these qualities. Diplomats can still meet but they cannot persuade, for they have ceased to speak the same language.

—Ibid

The test of a statesman ... is his ability to recognize the real relationship of forces and to make this knowledge serve his ends... The acid test of a policy, however, is its ability to obtain domestic support.

—Ibid

Events in Czechoslovakia demonstrate the limits of Eastern European autonomy that the Soviet Union is now prepared to tolerate. But the Soviet Union may not be willing indefinitely to use the Red Army primarily against allies as it has done three times in a decade and a half. In any case, no Western policy can guarantee a more favorable evolution in Central Europe; all it can do is to take advantage of an opportunity if it arises.

—*Brookings Institution paper, 1968*

Almost any statement about Vietnam is likely to be true; unfortunately, truth does not guarantee relevance.

—*Foreign Affairs article, 1969*

The modern bureaucratic state, for all its panoply of strength, often finds itself shaken to its foundations by seemingly trivial causes. Its brittleness and the worldwide revolution of youth—especially in advanced countries and among the relatively affluent—suggest a

spiritual void, an almost metaphysical boredom with a political environment that increasingly emphasizes bureaucratic challenges and is dedicated to no deeper purpose than material comfort.

We fought a military war [in Vietnam]; our opponents fought a political one. We sought physical attrition; our opponents aimed for our psychological exhaustion. In the process, we lost sight of one of the cardinal maxims of guerrilla war: the guerrilla wins if he does not lose; the conventional army loses if it does not win.

The commitment of 500,000 Americans has settled the issue of the importance of Vietnam. For what is involved now is confidence in American promises... However we got into Vietnam... ending the war honorably is essential for the peace of the world. Any other solution may unloose forces that would complicate prospects of international order.

—Ibid

I find quite chilling the similarities between the revolutionary romanticism of some of our more radical students today and the young German intellectuals of the 1930s—and I don't mean the Nazi thugs but those idealistic students who were looking for commitment for its own sake. My primary feeling about our students is sadness over the conditions that produced them. They are looking for heroes—not for brothers, but for fathers.

—*Conversation, 1969*

If it were not for Vietnam, this job would be quite enjoyable.

—*Conversation, 1969*

Drawing by David Levine © 1969 The New York Review

December 22, 1969

23

published by both Mr. Nixon and Professor Kissinger within the previous two years. The Administration's decision last month to return Okinawa to Japan in 1972 reflects not only its recognition of legitimate nationalist sentiment but its desire to encourage Tokyo to play a political role commensurate with its power as a reasent economic colossus in the East—and so, again, help Washington reduce its own presence.

Above all else in importance, of course, there is every indication of a solid—if not total—convergence of views on Vietnam between the President and his chief foreign-policy adviser. Both believe that a conventional military victory is no longer possible but that a defeat, either open or disguised, would ultimately have a disastrous political impact at home and drastically alter the international balance of power. Accordingly, their decision was to opt for a "two-track" strategy—first delineated in a Kissinger article published in Foreign Affairs magazine just after his appointment—which provided for an attempted negotiated settlement at the Paris peace talks while simultaneously beginning a gradual, unilateral withdrawal of U.S. troops from the battlefield.

**Poker Hand:** Until now half of that strategy has failed to work, as the President admitted in his news conference last week by bluntly rating current chances of a negotiated settlement as "not good." And despite Mr. Nixon's contention that "Vietnamization"—the Administration's hopeful justification for unilateral U.S. withdrawal—"continues to work," it is still a very open question whether total reliance on supposed progress by Saigon's armed forces is a sure road to the successful "conclusion" of the war he promised. "The 'two-track strategy' has flopped," says a former Washington policy analyst and close friend of Kissinger's. "We're operating on only one track now. It might work, if the President is able to manipulate public opinion at home and if there is no collapse of will in Saigon. But it might not—and then things could get dramatic."

For Henry Kissinger, the Presidential adviser most identified in the public mind with the Administration's policy, failure in Vietnam could spell personal disaster and ignominy. Throughout 1969, Kissinger has been the President's most articulate backstage advocate on Vietnam, briefing journalists both collectively and individually, meeting with dovish politicians, Quakers, student leaders and other dissenters. He has also involved himself intimately in behind-the-scenes contacts with the North Vietnamese in an all-out effort to get his two-track strategy on the rails. "Henry is fascinated by playing one more round of poker in the Vietnam game," notes a dovish professor who acted as an informal and ultimately unsuccessful intermediary between Kissinger and Hanoi representatives in Paris last summer. "I got the impression, though, that he was not pri-

marily interested in ending the game as such—but rather in playing it."

Poker-playing at such stakes, as Kissinger is well aware, is a dangerous intellectual sport. A constant, almost obsessive theme in conversations with friends is his fear of "ending up like Walt," of being rejected and exiled by his academic peers as Rostow was at the end of the Johnson Administration. "Would you be happy at a small university in Arizona?" he is fond of joking to his female acquaintances. But the prospect of becoming a primary Vietnam scapegoat is no laughing matter for Kissinger, who has already had a bitter taste of what may lie in store for him. At commencement exercises last spring at Brown University, two-thirds of the student body pointedly turned around when he was awarded an honorary degree—a

particularly galling experience for a teacher who prided himself on his rapport with students (and only partially alleviated by a cable that arrived the next day from several former colleagues at Harvard, promising, "We will not turn our backs on Henry Kissinger").

As Assistant for National Security Affairs, Kissinger—like Rostow and Bundy before him—is in an especially vulnerable position on Vietnam. Other key Presidential advisers, notably Secretary of State William Rogers, Attorney General John Mitchell and Defense Secretary Melvin Laird, are cushioned against shock by bureaucratic underpinnings and can take shelter in long-standing personal friendships with Mr. Nixon. But Kissinger enjoys no real power base or refuge in case of defeat. His present lofty position within the Administration rests entirely on the force and sharpness

of his mind, his tenacity and seriousness of purpose—it is only those qualities that can retain the President's trust and confidence.

Kissinger's special intellectual virtues have always been more analytic than creative. His mind excels at structuring, organizing and articulating ideas rather than generating them. Balance, judiciousness, thoroughness and order are what he strives for. He is tolerant of honest intellectual mistakes and readily admits to having made several himself in the past (including his early belief in the viability of limited nuclear war), but he does not suffer fools, fanatics or false reasoning gladly. Still, he is sympathetic to earnestness and sincerity of any variety—even among revolutionaries or student radicals. He is less dogmatic than dogged in temperament and, while open to fresh ideas, will seldom abandon old ones without a struggle.

Kissinger enjoys speculation as long as it is grounded in specifics but cannot abide a failure to think a position through to its logical conclusion. At a recent interdepartmental meeting on European affairs in the White House, he listened quietly until a veteran State Department official predicted "there would be very bad consequences" if a proposed course of action were followed. "What will the consequences be?" Kissinger asked. "I don't know," answered the diplomat. "Well," responded Kissinger, "if you don't know what the consequences will be, how do you know they will be bad?" That ended the discussion.

**Teuton:** Such virtues—and their attendant vices of arrogance and limited imagination—are strikingly consistent with Kissinger's origins and are partly explained by his early uprooting. A rather indifferent student in the Bavarian town of Fürth, where his father, Louis Kissinger, was a respected schoolmaster until 1933, Henry became a star pupil when his family finally decided to make the long journey to Manhattan's budding colony of German refugees in Washington Heights (his parents still live there today). After a straight-A record at George Washington High School and a prolonged stretch in the Army, spent mostly in counterintelligence work in Germany, Kissinger entered Harvard. There, his precociousness was quickly recognized. William Y. Elliott, the distinguished professor of government, wrote in a letter recommending the undergraduate Henry Kissinger to Phi Beta Kappa that "[he is] more like a mature colleague than a student ... On the other hand, his mind lacks grace and is Teutonic in its systematic thoroughness."

Elliott, who became Kissinger's mentor throughout his student days at Harvard, was himself a consultant to five U.S. Presidents and probably helped persuade Henry to set his sights higher than professional distinction. That, at any rate, was the course Kissinger pursued when, after being appointed to the Harvard government faculty in the mid-50s, he became

Harry Naitenayan—Washington Post

**With Miss McGinnis: Secret Swinger?**

24

Newsweek

NATIONAL AFFAIRS

intimately associated with two prestigious organizations located in that peculiarly American midway between the academy and the government: the Council on Foreign Relations and the Rockefeller Brothers Fund, Inc. And from these two convenient jumping-off points, it was just a short hop for the Harvard professor to enter government service as an expert on foreign affairs.

**Clash With State:** His first experience as a full-fledged government adviser—in the Kennedy Administration—was not a happy one. In part, a difference of opinion was responsible. Kissinger's ideas on European affairs—his specialty—ran directly contrary to the predominant ideological slant of the “theologians” in the State Department who urged Kennedy to press a multilateral nuclear force on America's European allies. But there was more to Kissinger's failure to achieve real influence on the New Frontier than a clash of ideas. “It was less Henry's

and members of Hubert Humphrey's foreign-policy task force.

Soon after the election, Mr. Nixon met with Kissinger twice and, impressed both by the professor's talk and by his contribution to the Brookings Institution's "Agenda for the Nation," offered him the job Kissinger had hoped to have under Rockefeller. Kissinger accepted, explains a friend, because "his misgivings about Nixon were overcome by the prospect of exerting that much influence."

To the surprise of both men, perhaps, the appointment has proved to be mutually satisfactory. Probably the major reason for the apparent compatibility between the President and Kissinger is that they complement each other intellectually. "Henry performs a function for Nixon that he himself could not do," suggests one close observer. "He takes the President's ideas, structures them, works out the details, and returns them wrapped in a neat package. Henry is the perfect

tial," he wrote in his Brookings essay last year. "Without it stability will prove elusive."

Stability is all-important for Kissinger, whose fundamentally conservative approach to world affairs leaves room for political and social transformations and institutional reform but ranks all such changes as secondary to maintaining a proper balance of forces. "Henry takes a great deal for granted in the existing order," notes one of his oldest acquaintances, "first and foremost that it is worth preserving at all." Another old friend, who worked alongside him for many years at Harvard, defines Kissinger's conservatism more precisely: "Henry's views on social change remind me of Goethe's old dictum that if he had to make a choice between disorder and injustice, he would choose injustice. The same is true of Henry—not because he favors injustice, but because he feels in his bones that there can be no justice without order."

**Old Truths:** Kissinger's conservatism, in reality, amounts to an updated version of nineteenth-century liberal Toryism. And it is thus no secret where Mr. Nixon got the notion—bandied about with great delight by his aides a few months ago—that he is something of a twentieth-century Disraeli. The only trouble is that neither the Chief Executive nor his court philosopher seem open to the suggestion that even the most eloquent, reasonable recasting of the old verities may prove inadequate in an era that has been creating a whole new set of truths.

"Henry's mind works within a restricted area," remarks a friend, "which is both an asset and a limitation." The same might be said of Mr. Nixon, who now speaks with great confidence of the eventual success of his most important foreign policy, backed, he is sure, by the great silent mass of Americans. That is the President's asset and one he has exploited skillfully in recent weeks. But his—and Kissinger's—limitation could lie in their inability to give enough weight to other perceptions: that majorities are not constant, and that an important generational change may yet transform the framework in which U.S. foreign policy is conducted.

Ultimately, the fate of both men depends on how successful their policy is in extricating the U.S. from a war for which neither is in the least responsible. By their estimate, the principal U.S. concern should be to protect its own national power and thus preserve a solid measure of the international power balance in the '70s. But such criteria, however responsible, may not be enough. "Doesn't that man realize that a good part of this country regards the war in Vietnam as 'immoral?'" exclaimed an exasperated visitor to Kissinger's office not long ago. The answer is, he does. But neither Henry Kissinger nor Richard Nixon believes that is the decisive question—and only the future will tell whether they will stand or fall on their judgment.

Henry, at 8, in Fürth and his parents today in New York

Newsweek—Bernard Goftyrd

views than his style that hurt him," recalls a sympathetic colleague who served with him at the time. "He simply wasn't light-footed enough for the Kennedy circle."

Kissinger was more successful later in performing short-term study missions in Vietnam for Lyndon Johnson and was even able to establish a direct contact, through a French friend, between the President and Ho Chi Minh in 1967. But his real hopes for full-time public service seemed to rest on the political fortunes of Nelson Rockefeller, with whom he had remained in close contact since the '50s. During the 1968 campaign, Kissinger served as Rockefeller's chief foreign-policy adviser, and he was bitterly disappointed at Rocky's failure to win the nomination. He received an immediate offer to help write nominee Nixon's speeches but turned it down because, a former associate recalls, "Henry doubted that he could write anything that Nixon would be willing to use." But he did remain in informal contact with both the Nixon camp

man for the job—he has a strong, precise, well-structured mind."

Kissinger also has strong convictions about the proper conduct of foreign affairs that seem remarkably in tune with Mr. Nixon's own instincts and predilections. Basically, he views world problems through the classic prism of power relations. "International order," the highest value in Kissinger's political pantheon and a recurrent phrase in all his writings, can only be achieved through the most delicate balance of major-power relations. This equilibrium among the great powers, he believes, is always dynamic and changing, never permanent: "The foundation of a stable order is the relative security—and therefore the relative insecurity—of its members." And with the onset of the '70s and the slow melting away of the cold-war balance of terror, Kissinger feels, it is imperative that the U.S. and the Soviet Union, the two great superpowers, readjust their relations in conformity with new realities. "A new concept of international order is essen-

December 22, 1969

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UPI

Shoot-out in Los Angeles: Sudden sympathy and pressure for investigation

Too Late for the Panthers?

Is there some sort of government conspiracy afoot to exterminate the Black Panthers? The black revolutionaries themselves are convinced of it—and have long used such charges as part of their propaganda against capitalist white society and its “pig” police. Last week, in the wake of yet another bloody shoot-out between the cops and the Panthers, the talk of conspiracy—or, at the least, systematic harassment—began to find a larger and more sympathetic audience than ever before.

The latest skirmish in the guerrilla war between the gun-toting Panthers and the police took place in Los Angeles. The cops' mission, authorities said, was to search Panther headquarters on the edge of the Watts ghetto for a suspected cache of illegal weapons. To bring off the job, the police department assembled a 300-man task force and moved in on the building just before dawn. The result

was a four-hour gun battle in which both sides exchanged hundreds of shots. At one point, the police tried to get at the Panthers by dynamiting the roof of their headquarters. The cops also used helicopters—to scout the neighborhood for Panther reinforcements—and even wheeled up an armored personnel carrier, borrowed from the National Guard.

Outnumbered and outgunned, the Panthers finally hoisted a white flag. And when the police finally got into the building, they found what they said they had come for: an arsenal of weapons including two submachine guns, a dozen carbines and rifles, eight pistols, a score of homemade bombs and thousands of rounds of ammunition. Six Panthers (and three policemen) were wounded during the fight and thirteen militants arrested.

The Los Angeles episode came just four days after a deadly confrontation between the police and the Panthers in Chicago in which two top Illinois leaders of the party were killed (NEWSWEEK, Dec. 15). The two incidents prompted an unprecedented outcry—and not just from the Panthers and their allies on the far left. Liberals of impeccable credentials, including Whitney Young Jr. of the Urban League, attorney Joseph L. Rauh Jr. of Americans for Democratic Action, and Adlai Stevenson III, the Illinois State Treasurer and U.S. Senate candidate, called for investigations of the police action against the Panthers, whose hierarchy around the country has been all but decimated over the past year.

**Inquiry:** The pressure brought a prompt response from the government. In Washington, the Justice Department denied that it had ever had a "policy of concerted activity with local police in order to harass any members of the Black Panther Party." And Justice did agree to a preliminary Federal investigation of the Chicago incident. The U.S. investigation won't be the only one. At the weekend, a dozen organizations, including the NAACP Legal Defense Fund and

the American Jewish Congress, were planning to set up a committee of inquiry to look into the question of alleged police harassment of the Panthers.

There is no doubt that the police around the nation have made the Panthers a prime target in the past two years—but whether there is any sort of systematic approach to it all is highly questionable. "I doubt seriously that there is anything organized on a national scale," says one former high-ranking Federal lawman. "But there could be inspiration."

The Justice Department makes no secret of the fact that it maintains a special intelligence unit to keep tabs on the Panthers; and the FBI follows standard procedures for exchanging information with local law enforcement agencies. "If we hear that the Minutemen or the DAR or the Black Panthers are caching submachine guns," said one FBI source last week, "it's absolutely incumbent upon us to pass that on to local police." Last summer, FBI chief J. Edgar Hoover described the Panthers as "the greatest threat to the internal security of the country" among all black extremist groups.

Not that local authorities need much prompting from anyone where the Panthers are concerned. The Panthers' whole stance is based on unrelenting hostility to all established authority, especially "the pigs." Recently, the Panthers have tried to downplay their gun-barrel politics and introduced a free breakfast program for children, but in ghettos around the country cops grumble about sniping and other hit-and-run assaults that they blame on the party. What's more, police raids on Panther hide-outs generally do turn up frightening arsenals—and the Panthers' insistence that they arm only for self-defense is less than persuasive to many officials.

While Panthers and police practice self-defense, the party's ranks are dwindling. Federal officials estimate that

Panther weapons seized in L.A.

UPI

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L.A. Panthers being led to

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