Throughout the months of the Watergate hearings, Spiro T. Agnew had been artfully staying on the sidelines. He played a lot of golf at Burning Tree and a lot of tennis at the Linden Hill Club. He bought himself a new twelve-room house in Bethesda, Md., for $190,000, and the Secret Service installed the usual safety devices (an electronic-eyed brick-and-redwood fence for $39,000). His last major speech was in June, and his main official work consisted of playing host to state visitors. In short, even by vice-presidential standards, Agnew was keeping a low profile. His object: to keep himself apart from the White House scandals until he could emerge as the unscathed, untarnished presidential candidate of 1976. Or even, perhaps, as the constitutionally designated successor to a departed President Nixon.
Last week, he had to announce to a stunned public: "I am under investigation for possible violation of the criminal statutes." Specifically, the inquiry centers on allegations by Maryland contractors and others that Agnew collected payoffs during his terms as Baltimore County executive (1962-66), as Maryland Governor (1967-68), and even as Vice President. He faces possible charges of extortion, bribery, tax evasion and conspiracy.
Although he first vowed to maintain silence until the investigation was completed, Agnew quickly changed his mind after aides convinced him that such a silence would be politically disastrous. In marked contrast to Nixon, Agnew called a press conference to deny any wrongdoing. Looking confident and totally in command during 30 minutes of televised questioning, the Vice President branded a set of newspaper reports that he had once accepted $1,000 a week in illegal funds as "damned lies." He said that he had "absolutely not" accepted money for personal use from Maryland contractors and that "I have nothing to hide" in the way of finances. As for the possibility of being forced to resign over the matter, Agnew replied that he had given it no thought. He had "no expectation of being indicted" and thus had not even begun any "contingent thinking" about what would happen if he were.
There was little doubt that Agnew's bravura performance won him sympathy and support. Nevertheless, "contingent thinking" was the order of the day in Washington. Were Agnew's chances for a presidential bid shattered? Probably—unless he is cleared and cleared soon. But if he is found blameless, might he not turn into a ready-made "reform" candidate for the Republicans in 1976? On the other hand, if Agnew is indicted, will Nixon not be compelled to demand his resignation? If so, would Nixon then replace him with a docile party-liner or with a major political figure? And if the latter, would Nixon suddenly find himself with a No. 2 man who possessed more stature than No. 1, thereby increasing the pressure for his own resignation?
It was perhaps symptomatic of the nation's gathering political paranoia that many felt a faint suspicion that Agnew was somehow being played with in the strategy of a bigger—and hidden —power game. Some improbable "they"—the Democrats, enemies in the White House or whoever—were after him.