MAN OF THE YEAR: Judge John J. Sirica: Standing Firm for the Primacy of Law

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true that the men had every legal right to remain silent and that this particular use of provisional sentencing, while technically lawful, could infringe on their civil rights. Sirica, not much given to mulling over law theory, is unrepentant. To critics of his actions, including his persistent questioning of defendants from the bench, he has replied: "I'm glad I did it. If I had it to do over, I would do the same—and that's the end of that."

Many of Sirica's colleagues on benches around the country seem to agree with him (see box page 15). More broadly, his handling of the Watergate cases is widely seen as a vindication of the legal system at a time of great stress. Chief Judge David Bazelon, who heads the U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals for the District of Columbia, which has sometimes reversed Sirica rulings, contends that "Sirica became enraged not because he believed he was being lied to personally, but because he thought the court was being lied to. He has humility, which is not a universal virtue among judges." Former A.B.A. President Bernard Segal calls Sirica "a shining light. He's shown firmness, understanding and great integrity." Declares a former partner of Sirica's in the Washington law firm of Hogan & Hartson: "He was the worst judge the Administration could have had on this case. He's a deep-dyed Republican who is genuinely outraged at what's happening in the party that put him on the bench."

Exposure of wrongdoing is, of course, the first requisite in achieving justice—and Sirica deserves the prime credit for taking those vital initial steps. Whether justice and law in the end will prevail still depends on the investigation by Prosecutor Jaworski and his determined staff, the outcome of numerous individual trials, and what may still be learned—and done about—the President's actions in the many Watergate-related improprieties. Sirica will continue to play a role in that process since he intends to remain an active judge on the bench even after he retires as chief judge in March. Early this year he will issue his ruling on whether the tapes were tampered with. He may well assign himself one or more of the major impending Watergate trials.

The future criminal cases, however, may not answer a key question: How could so much have suddenly gone so wrong? Certainly a longtime trend toward an increasingly dominant U.S. presidency was a factor. In a development beginning with Franklin Roosevelt, vastly enhanced by the romantic Camelot atmosphere surrounding John Kennedy, too much authority has been given by Americans to their Presidents and too much has been expected of them. Harvard Divinity Professor Harvey Cox goes so far as to contend that the U.S. public surrounds the Oval Office with a mystique that approaches "a national quasi-religious cultism."

Yet there is something unique in the Nixon character and the men he chose to aid him that spawned Watergate. Despite his intention of "returning power to the people," Nixon drew authority about him like a blanket of insulation—and waved it over domineering aides responsible only to himself. Unchecked by the accountability of Cabinet officers, who must look to the traditions of their office, answer to congressional committees and worry about legalities and public opinion, these