Into the Fire

When Nixon Speechwriter William Safire left the White House last January to become a columnist for the New York Times, most saw the move as a peace offering from Times Publisher Arthur Sulzberger to the newly re-elected Administration. On an Op-Ed page dominated by such consistent Nixon critics as James Reston, Tom Wicker and Anthony Lewis, Safire could provide a steady injection of pro-Administration counterpoint. But the new commentator had knocked out exactly one column (on April 16) before the President made his first public admission of White House involvement in the Watergate scandal. Since then, Safire has been forced to ignore nearly everything except that political hurricane.

"Watergate is not a significant defeat," he wrote in his second column, "but it was developing into one, and the President moved in the nick of time." This early misjudgment launched Safire on a string of lurches and pratfalls as the Watergate story dragged him steadily downhill. There was Safire listening to his mother defend the President's integrity while she dished up bowls of steaming chicken soup ("My God," said one Timesman opposed to Safire's hiring, "we've got a dozen better chicken-soup men"). There was Safire claiming ultimate victory for Nixon after John Dean testified before the Ervin committee: "The eye of the storm has passed, and Mr. Nixon did not blink."

On rare occasions, Safire has sharply jabbed his ex-boss. After Nixon's May 22 statement disclosing the widespread use of domestic eavesdropping under the cloak of national security, Safire wondered: "At what point does the defense of our system corrupt our system?" When it was revealed that the President had taped his office and telephone conversations, Safire criticized Nixon's "horrendous blunder."

Looking back over his first 3 1/2 months on the job, Safire thinks that he has made the best of a bad situation: "If I defend the President, I'm an apologist. If I attack him, I'm a traitor. If I ignore the whole thing, I'm a cop-out." Deservedly known as a wit and wordsmith during his years as an Administration speechwriter, Safire has kept his sense of humor throughout the ordeal, although his neologisms ("presibuster" for the Ervin hearings, "probephiliacs" for those investigating Watergate) are shorter on style than many of his admirers had expected. One of his more inventive efforts was a savagely funny parody of Kipling's Gunga Din that impugned the credibility of John Dean: "You will claim that you obeyed/ But the truth is you betrayed/ A far better man than you are, Gunga Dean!"

Impromptu Party. Safire's occasional criticism of the Administration has failed to disillusion his fan club there. "My personal feeling is that he is the best writer in the country," says one White House aide. Safire feels that his fellow Timesmen in Washington have accepted him. After his blast at Nixon's taping habits, his colleagues treated him to an impromptu party of doughnuts and coffee, "in honor," Safire says, "of my declaration of independence." Says one coworker: "Some view him as a captive of the Administration and say, 'We're stuck with him,' but others say, 'Give him six months to decompress and maybe he'll come out of it.' "

Safire does most writing at his Times office, visiting his extensive Washington contacts for whatever reporting he requires. His life-style has changed little; he and Wife Helene still live in a comfortable Kenwood, Md., home and keep up a social pace that had ranked as extraordinarily gregarious by Administration standards.

Safire's performance has won disfavor from some regulars in the capital press corps. "I don't like to criticize a colleague," says Liberal Columnist Mary McGrory, "although I'm not sure that I regard him as one." Nicholas von Hoffman of the Washington Post is typically hyperbolic: "The Times could have saved themselves about 50 grand a year if they just sent an office boy over to the White House to pick up the press releases." That estimate of Safire's work is not fair, but Humorist Art Buchwald neatly sums up the mixed feelings of many Washington newsmen toward their new colleague: "He's the right man for the wrong time."

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