Twenty years after the death of John Mitchell, Fox News Washington correspondent James Rosen tries in “The Strong Man” to explain the rise and fall of the former U.S. attorney general and brains behind Richard M. Nixon’s White House campaigns.
For nearly 600 pages, Rosen struggles to make sense of Mitchell’s unlikely entry into the political arena after a successful career as a Wall Street bond lawyer; Mitchell’s championing of a Republican presidential candidate and then White House incumbent despite having discerned Nixon’s hatefulness and paranoia; Mitchell’s willingness to bend and break the law for political ends while simultaneously trying to direct a Justice Department in tune with equality for all citizens; and Mitchell’s eventual prison term related to political dirty tricks and coverups.
Those who watch Fox News, Rosen’s current employer, will encounter a print version of the controversial television network. It seems like every story comes with a spin. Whether the spin is desirable journalism or undesirable journalism depends heavily on the worldview of the consumer.
Rosen’s book is admirable for the breadth and depth of his research, especially regarding the political scandal during the first half of the 1970s that came to be known as Watergate. But aside from Rosen’s prodigious research in government archives, his book is at best a mixture of success and failure.
The biggest shortcoming is Rosen’s moral relativism. In chapter after chapter, Rosen demonstrates Mitchell’s cutthroat political persona, discomfort bordering on hatred of those who fail to subscribe to the Nixon Republican line, and public dissembling that often crosses over into outright lying.
Yet, according to Rosen’s interpretations, Mitchell is never guilty of major sins. Instead, Mitchell is overly loyal to Nixon or duped by Nixon operatives with less integrity or so distracted by alcoholic wife Martha that clear thinking ceases.
All in all, Rosen suggests, Mitchell was not a bad actor — at least when compared with all those really bad actors in the Nixon presidential campaign and the Nixon White House. Well, maybe. But as Rosen sets the stage for the long journey to that desired judgment in the Prologue and Chapter 1, he intentionally or unintentionally sends messages almost guaranteed to arouse suspicion about everything Mitchell will do and say later, as a power broker.
Consider: Rosen opens the book with Mitchell, in 1977, entering a federal prison to begin serving what would be 19 months of a sentence for convictions on conspiracy, obstruction of justice and perjury charges in the Watergate coverup. Such an opening scene is unlikely to inspire admiration for Mitchell, even as Rosen praises his stoicism and his loyalty to Nixon.
“Like many of his fellow Watergate defendants,” Rosen writes, “the former attorney general could have traded evidence, real or fabricated, against a more senior official — Nixon himself, in Mitchell’s case — in exchange for leniency, perhaps even avoided prison altogether. But Mitchell did not do that.” Talk about faint praise within a morally ambiguous biography.
Then, as Rosen relates Mitchell’s childhood, which began in 1913 and unfolded mostly on Long Island, the biographer casts doubt on the truthfulness of his subject’s most basic recollections. Mitchell claimed he played a role in burning down his schoolhouse and his family home. Rosen’s research, however, suggests Mitchell committed neither sin. By Page 3, Rosen is writing such phrases as “the falsity of the attorney general’s childhood tall tales. . . .”
After that, it becomes difficult for readers to believe anything Mitchell says, even when Rosen earnestly states that Mitchell’s version of contested events ought to trump the versions of other players.
Rosen complicates his task even more by regularly violating chronology in the telling of Mitchell’s life. Chronology helps readers understand cause and effect — something happened, then something else happened. A biographer who violates chronology is not breaking an inviolate craft rule. But the biographer should cite a strong reason for such violations. Rosen’s reasons might be clear to himself, but are not clear on their face.
Rosen deserves credit for fulfilling one of his goals — writing a biography that closes an “unacceptable gap in the sprawling literature of the Nixon presidency.” For readers wanting to absorb previously unrevealed details about a disgraced president and a disgraced attorney general, Rosen’s book is worth the laborious effort it takes to reach the final page.
Nonfiction
John Mitchell and the Secrets of Watergate, by James Rosen, $35
Steve Weinberg is a biographer, as well as author of a book about the biographical craft. He served as a Washington correspondent during the mid-1970s, when Mitchell faced various criminal charges.
