Nixon Page #3

Haig finishes threading.

HAIG:

May I say something, Mr. President?

NIXON:

There's no secrets here, Al.

HAIG:

You've never been a greater example to

the country than you are now, sir, but

... but you need to get out more, sir,

and talk to the people. No one I know

feels ... close to you.

Nixon looks at him, moved by his concern.

NIXON:

I was never the buddy-buddy type, Al.

You know, "Oh I couldn't sleep last

night, I was thinking of my mother who

beat me" -- all that kind of crap, you

know the psychoanalysis bag ... My

mother ... The more I'd spill my guts,

the more they'd hate me. I'd be what

... pathetic! If I'd bugged out of

Vietnam when they wanted, do you think

Watergate would've ever happened? You

think the Establishment would've given

a sh*t about a third-rate burglary?

But did I? Quit? Did I pull out?

He stares, waits.

HAIG:

No, sir, you did not.

NIXON:

Damn right. And there's still a

helluva lotta people out there who

wanna believe ... That's the point,

isn't it? They wanna believe in the

President.

He suddenly tires of talking, rubs his hands over his face.

HAIG:

You're all set, sir. Just push this

button. Good night, Mr. President.

NIXON:

You know, Al, men in your profession

... you give 'em a pistol and you

leave the room.

HAIG:

I don't have a pistol.

NIXON:

'Night, Al.

Haig quietly closes the door. Nixon takes a generous slug

of Scotch. Then he looks down at the tape recorder. He

puts on the Uher headset, and hits the fast-forward button:

high-speed VOICES.

NIXON (CONT'D)

Goddamn!

He hits stop, puts on his eyeglasses, studies the recorder

for a moment. Pushes the "play" button. VOICES. Barely

audible at first. Nixon leans closer, listening.

NIXON (ON TAPE) (CONT'D)

They did what?! I don't understand.

Why'd they go into O'Brien's office in

the first place?

HALDEMAN (ON TAPE)

Evidently to install bugs and

photograph documents.

FLASHBACK TO:

INT. EXEC OFFICE BLDG - NIXON OFFICE - DAY (1972)

SUBTITLE READS:
"JUNE 1972."

Nixon's hideaway office in the Executive Office Building.

BOB HALDEMAN, his crew-cut, hard-edged chief of staff, sits

across the desk, a folder open on his lap. Nixon, at his

desk, seems a healthier man than in the previous scene.

Also there are JOHN EHRLICHMAN, portly domestic advisor,

and JOHN DEAN, blond, gentrified, legal counsel.

NIXON:

But O'Brien doesn't even use that

office. The Democrats've moved to

Miami. There's nothing there!

HALDEMAN:

It was just a fishing expedition.

Apparently it was their fourth attempt

at the DNC.

NIXON:

Their fourth!

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