Lowell Weicker Gets Mad

It was late in a long day, and Connecticut Senator Lowell P. Weicker Jr., the junior man on the Ervin committee, was just beginning his second go-round with Star Witness Dean. Weicker, the committee's rebellious Republican and sole representative from the northern half of the country, proved once more to have little flair for interrogation--in fact, he virtually gave up any pretense of questioning Dean shortly after he had started his address.

He began by reciting a veritable litany of "illegal, unconstitutional and gross" acts performed by the Executive branch since the beginning of the 1972 campaign. Then he came to his main point: that the Administration had done its level best to subvert the Ervin committee hearings as recently as this April, even while announcing publicly its intention of cooperating fully.

As proof, he read a transcript of a March 28 telephone conversation between John Ehrlichman, Nixon's former aide (who taped it), and then Attorney General Richard G. Kleindienst,

in which Ehrlichman suggested that if Weicker continued to attack the Administration, "we've got to take him on."

Partisan Comment. Weicker then went on to outline the Administration's efforts. On April 10, Weicker announced, he had learned that the White House had tried to establish that funds for his 1970 Senate campaign had been improperly reported. Although no such illegal funding was discovered, Weicker learned some time later that Charles W.

Colson, the ubiquitous former White House aide, had spoken to a reporter not only about such "illegal" funds, but also about Weicker's being a "disloyal" Republican. Weicker announced that he had asked Special Watergate Prosecutor Archibald Cox to investigate the matter.

In response to Weicker's remarks.

Dean observed that similar attempts had been made to undermine him.

Reading the riot act to the White House, Weicker declared: "Whether it is you [Dean] in that witness chair or whether it is me in this committee chair or any other man in back of this table or any other witness who is going to come before this committee, there are going to be no more threats, no intimidation, no innuendo, no working through the press to destroy the credibility of individuals."

For his finale, Weicker gave what he called "my partisan comment." Far from being ready to switch parties, Weicker said, "I think I express the feelings of the 42 other Republican Senators that I work with, and the Republicans of the state of Connecticut, and in fact the Republican Party, far better than these illegal, unconstitutional and gross acts which have been committed over the past several months by various individuals." Republicans, Weicker insisted, do not cover up, do not threaten, do not commit illegal acts and, "God knows. Republicans don't view their fellow Americans as enemies to be harassed" but rather as "human beings to be loved and won." For a few brief seconds, the room was stone silent. Then the gallery broke into the loudest and longest applause of the proceedings, drowning out the sound of the gavel-pounding.

Although Weicker did not go into the details of the White House campaign that had triggered his outburst, TIME has learned that it began in March, when H.R. Haldeman's assistant, Larry Higby, called Presidential

Troubleshooter Harry S. Dent to investigate whether funds for Weicker's 1970 campaign had been properly recorded. Dent called Jack Gleason, a Republican fund raiser who had once worked for him at the White House and was the man who had channeled $60,000 in G.O.P. funds to Weicker. Gleason told Dent that the money had been properly reported. Gleason, recalled Dent last week, "said that nothing Weicker did was illegal, and I reported back to Higby."

Nonetheless, Colson allegedly tried to float a false report a short time later in the press. Weicker, as it turned out, had a chance to confront Colson directly with that charge the day after his emotional speech in the hearings. After calling for an appointment, Colson showed up promptly at the Senator's office at 7:55 a.m. and tried to persuade Weicker that he had only talked "hard-nosed politics" with the reporter and had not planted incorrect and libelous information. From there, the conversation went like this, according to a Weicker aide who took notes:

Weicker: Mr. Colson, I stand on what I said yesterday. From now on Mr. Cox is going to have to look into it, and you're going to have to answer to him. You say you play hard-nosed politics. Well, I play hard-nosed politics too.

Colson: I'm proud of what I've done for the President.

Weicker: How could you be proud, after the disservices you've done him?

Colson: The only reporter that I talked to about you asked me whether you had received any of the so-called Gleason funds in the '70 campaign. I told him I didn't know for sure, but that everyone had. But I didn't ever mention any specific figures. He said that his paper had done some work on this

Gleason fund in 1970 ... I'm sorry you've got this grudge...

Weicker: I don't have any grudge against you. I don't even know you . ...

but I do know what you stand for, Mr.

Colson, and we live in two different worlds. I deal in hard-nosed politics.

You deal in crap.

Colson: I'd just like to clear up that list of 20 additional names [on the "enemies" list], if that's what's bothering you. That list didn't come from me, or from my office.

Weicker: Oh. well, what about the Gibbons memo [sec story next page}?

Colson: Yes, well, that did.

Weicker: Well, that's just great, Mr.

Colson. Let me tell you something: you can just get your ass out of my office because you make me sick, and I don't even want you in here.

Whereupon Colson, looking rather flushed, was led from the office by his law partner, who had been sitting in on the meeting.

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