This week, The New York Times, in an overview of October surprises past, whitewashed the crime that helped put Richard Nixon in the White House. It described that year’s “surprise” as President Lyndon Johnson’s October 31 announcement of a halt in the bombing of North Vietnam, as part of talks that promised to end the war. That announcement wasn’t a “surprise”—that is, a Machiavellian intervention designed for immediate political ends—but rather the culmination of long and hard secret talks between Hanoi and Washington in Paris, whereby Johnson, grudgingly, came to realize the United States couldn’t win its war. The real “surprise” came a few days later.
Announcement of a deal by Washington, Saigon, and Hanoi might have pushed Democratic nominee Hubert Humphrey, who was closing in on Nixon in the polls, over the top. But there would be no deal: The South Vietnamese scuttled the settlement, after hearing from Nixon’s campaign (which was acting on intelligence passed to it from Henry Kissinger) that they could get better terms from a Republican administration: thieu says saigon cannot join paris talks under present plan, ran the above-the-fold headline of the November 2 New York Times. Later that day, Nixon, campaigning in Austin, Texas, said, “In view of early reports this morning, prospects for peace are not as bright as they were even a few days ago.”
Nixon’s people had acted fast. Using Kissinger’s intelligence and working through Anna Chennault (the Chinese-born widow of World War II Lieut. Gen. Claire Lee Chennault, she had become a prominent conservative activist), they urged the South Vietnamese to derail the talks, promising better conditions if Nixon were to be elected. President Johnson was informed of the meddling—through wiretaps and intercepts, he learned that Nixon’s campaign was telling the South Vietnamese that he was going to win and “to hold on a while longer.” If the White House had gone public with the information, the outrage might have swung the election to Humphrey. But Johnson hesitated, fearing that “Nixon’s conniving” was just too explosive. “This is treason,” he said. “It would rock the world.” Johnson stayed silent, Nixon won, and the war went on.
On May 14, 1973, just after Johnson’s death, Walt Rostow, Johnson’s national-security adviser, deposited the so-called “bombing halt” file in the LBJ Presidential Library in Austin, Texas. He appended a note that, in part, read: “The attached file contains the information available to me and (I believe) the bulk of the information available to President Johnson on the activities of Mrs. Chennault and other Republicans just before the presidential election of 1968.” Rostow wanted the file to remain classified indefinitely: “After fifty years the Director of the LBJ Library…may, alone, open this file.… If he believes the material it contains should not be opened for research [at that time], I would wish him empowered to re-close the file for another fifty years when the procedure outlined above should be repeated.” Rostow’s instructions notwithstanding, the LBJ Library began declassifying the file in 1994. Despite renewed attention to the Watergate break-in on its 40th anniversary, scholars and reporters—aside from Ken Hughes, in his recent Chasing Shadows: The Nixon Tapes, the Chennault Affair, and the Origins of Watergate, and journalist Robert Parry—have ignored its contents.