Javits had urged Rabin to steer the dialogue with America away from recriminations over the breakdown toward molding a fresh consensus in advance of the Geneva conference.
The dinner lasted for over two hours. Fisher told Javits his ideas about healing the rift between Ford and Rabin, and the senator encour- aged him. It had to be done, Javits said, and before Ford addressed Congress. Fisher said goodbye to the senator outside the restaurant; it was midnight when he walked through the doors of the Madison Ho- tel. The lobby, with its crystal chandeliers, antiques and glimmering marble floor, was deserted. Fisher had one last meeting to go, the most critical of the day. He stepped into the elevator.
Upstairs, Fisher opened the door of his suite. The lights of Wash- ington were glittering through the wide sweep of windows. Fisher walked in and greeted Leonard Garment, who had been waiting for him. Garment was now living in New York City. Since resigning as an assistant to President Ford, he had returned to New York to prac- tice law; when that proved unrewarding, he accepted a position as the U.S. representative to the Human Rights Commission at the United Nations. Garment’s relationship to Fisher had become as personal as it was professional. Garment would one day write to Fisher of the pro- found love he felt for him and thank him for having “given the same time and attention to my personal problems that you have given to the problems of presidents and prime ministers. You have taken me through the toughest times of my life.”
Garment would suffer a tragedy that, he later said, plunged him into a depression. Soon after his meeting with Fisher, his first wife, Grace, committed suicide. Garment left work to care for their teenage chil- dren. It was during this period that Garment relied on Fisher’s advice, talking to him on the phone or walking along the ocean with him in Palm Beach. Through these talks, even though they centered on career and personal difficulties, Garment came to see why Fisher grew to be - come so useful to leaders in the United States and Israel.
“Max,” Garments states, “doesn’t process information like the av- erage person. He doesn’t go from Ato B to C to D. He goes from A to Z. [And when we would discuss my problems], he would get right to
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it. I’d go through a long thing with him and then he’d say: ‘Don’t do it.’ And I’d say: ‘But why, Max?’And he’d say: ‘Don’t do it.’ He just knew the answer. Max has assimilated so much information about the whole rich variety of things — the good and bad things, the decent and stupid things, treachery — name it, Max has seen it. That’s why he is so valuable. The most valuable process in life is the distillation of experience into judgment. At a certain level, we call that wisdom. Max was an adviser to leaders on the most difficult problems because they wanted the benefit of his wisdom.”
So on the evening of April 8, 1975, Garment traveled to Washington at Fisher’s request to help him prepare a written document that Fisher planned to read to Ford and Kissinger the following morning. Fisher wanted Garment to serve as a sounding board and to help him con- struct the thrust of the document. Garment believed that it was method well suited to the talents of both men.
“A lot of Max’s processing of information is internal,” says Gar- ment. “Through a kind of free-associative self-kibitzing, he constructs a private narrative that shapes itself into a point of view, rather than a coherent argument.” Garment, the former Wall Street litigator, would, in part, supply the coherent argument. Garment has a reputation for eloquence and persuasion. He is considered, according to a 1987 Re- gardie’s magazine article, a master of “the arcane Washington art of persuading the press to see the world his way. His ... education in the art of rehabilitating reputations began in the 1968 presidential cam- paign, when he directed media relations for ‘the new Nixon.’ Joe Mc- Ginniss’s landmark study, The Selling of the President, 1968, is ... an illustration of Garment’s genius.”
Actually, it had been Garment’s idea for Fisher to read a written declaration to Ford and Kissinger. The formality of it, so uncharac- teristic of Fisher’s typical relations with Ford, would underscore the significance of what Fisher was saying.
Another strategic thrust behind Garment’s recommendation was di- rected at Kissinger.
“I suggested that Max read a paper of State,” Garment explains, “because I was sure Henry would interrupt him if he didn’t. Henry was
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still very angry with Rabin, and Henry can throw a whole basketball team off balance once he starts talking. If Henry launched into one of his tirades, Max’s argument would never have been presented.” Fisher approved of Garment’s technique because it coincided with his general approach to business and political transactions. “I study a person’s character,” Fisher says, “and try to discern where they might be touchy. You also have to be sensitive to their egos, because if you’re not, you won’t know how to work with them. During these negotia- tions, Kissinger’s responsibility was to the United States. He’s a dy- namic man and was one of our great secretaries of state. But he wasn’t always tolerant of what someone else might have to say to him.” Offsetting this disadvantage was Fisher’s unique friendship with the president.
“I knew that Max and Ford had a very good relationship,” Garment says. “Ford had genuine respect for Max’s acumen, not just in busi- ness, but for his shrewdness in matters of this kind. Ford would listen to him and, because of their relationship, trust Max not to give him a bum steer. Henry was always outwardly respectful toward Max, and I think Henry respected him, but Henry wouldn’t yield to anyone in foreign policy.”
That night, at the Madison, Fisher and Garment were banking on the president’s trust, believing that Ford would give Fisher a fair hearing and be persuaded to suspend the reassessment. Fisher summarized his conversations with Israel’s leaders for Garment, outlining ways Amer- ica and Israel could reach common ground. Then they began to draft the document on legal pads.
“Max,” says Garment, “is a ‘back-door adviser.’ There have been others in American politics. Presidents don’t write about them in their memoirs because they don’t want to admit that this is the way the country is run. But that’s how business is done. Those are the important people. Forget the guy at the State Department and dinners in tuxedos. The meeting on April 9 was [going to be] one of the most important meetings in the history of American-Israeli relations. If I didn’t believe that going in, I never would’ve been sitting around a hotel room at midnight.”
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It was 3 a.m. before Fisher and Garment were satisfied with the statement.
On the morning of Wednesday, April 9, as President Ford was meet- ing with Kissinger and Lt. General Brent Scowcroft, deputy assistant for national security affairs, Fisher was finishing his breakfast at the Madison. Earlier, Garment had gone to the White House and had his former secretary, Eleanor Connors, type a clean copy of the presenta- tion; it came to nine typed pages. Now, Fisher carefully reviewed the text, practicing his delivery, deleting some phrases, writing in others. Then he climbed into a cab and rode to the White House, showing the guard his pass and entering through the northwest entrance.
A New York Times reporter spotted him going in and asked him where things stood with the reassessment.
“No comment,” Fisher replied. By 10:55 a.m., with the spring sun- light filtering in through the Oval Office windows, Fisher was seated in front of the president’s desk, with Kissinger sitting on a chair to Ford’s left.
Fisher began by listing the various people he had spoken with during his trip to Israel, making it apparent that he had spent a good deal of time with the prime minister. Then, reading from his statement, he said: “On no occasion did I tell [Rabin] what to do, but I undertook to give an assessment of the situation in accordance with my conver- sation with the president and on the basis of my general impression of attitudes of representative leaders and groups in America.”
Fisher spoke slowly, keeping his voice steady, and loud enough for Ford and Kissinger to hear. “The prime minister,” he said, “was extremely concerned about the president’s reported negative reaction to the termination of the talks. He has a warm feeling for the presi- dent and great confidence in him, so my report was not a very happy one. Rabin spent considerable time discussing the issue of whether the United States was misled in the Rabin-Allon visits. He was very frank in stating that Israel might have been ‘too confident’ in expressing a willingness ‘to be flexible.’ They had said they would be forthcoming and, in fact, they thought they were in taking the very positive position of yielding up the passes and oil fields.
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“According to Rabin, they failed to appreciate that going public as early on in the negotiations as they did would put them in a very dis- advantageous position. On the other hand, Rabin felt that declaring their willingness to give up these vital areas at an early point would help Sadat in the negotiations. This, Rabin said, turned out to be a tactical mistake.”
Fisher added parenthetically that an Israeli public opinion poll that he had received before his trip showed that opposition to giving up parts of the occupied territory and getting nothing in return was almost 78 percent.
“One cannot,” Fisher continued, “overemphasize the Israelis’ pre- occupation with the question of physical security. This subject came up again and again in my discussions. Another repeated theme, partic- ularly on the part of the prime minister, concerned the importance of maintaining or restoring the president’s confidence in the credibility of the Israeli government. Rabin said that as Israelis and Jews, they pride themselves on keeping their word. They consider this a fundamental ethical issue and vital to their relationship with the United States.” Fisher glanced straight at Ford and, lowering his eyes, comment- ed: “I do not believe there was any intention on the part of the Israe- lis to mislead you, Mr. President, or the secretary. My impression is that they were too optimistic in stating their ability to be flexible and failed to appreciate the connotation that would be placed on certain terminology such as their intention to be ‘forthcoming,’ all of which contributed to a serious misunderstanding. But, I repeat, I am person- ally convinced there was no intention to mislead.” After that reassur- ance, Fisher said: “The prime minister was also very much disturbed about the president’s reported concern that the Israeli government did not take into consideration broader issues of American foreign policy. This appeared to disturb him as much as anything else. They are crucially dependent on U.S. friendship and help. They feel they owe a tremendous debt to America, and, according to Rabin, these considerations weighed heavily on them during the negotiations. However, they feel that balancing Soviet influence in the Middle East is as important to the United States as it is to Israel, and they have
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played and will continue to play a central role in this area for the foreseeable future.”
Fisher paused, allowing the president and secretary of state to re- flect on this assertion. It was a subtle point, but a significant one, for it italicized the reality that the relationship between America and Israel was not a one-sided deal. The United States, as characterized by for- mer Israeli Prime Minister Golda Meir, is indeed “the only real friend [Israel has], and a very powerful one.” But doesn’t Israel pay a nation’s heaviest price —with the lives of its citizens —for U.S. support?
A moment later, Fisher was reading from his statement, telling the president and secretary that Rabin had asked him to convey his deep feeling of gratitude to the United States, along with his and his coun- try’s regard for the president. “Rabin,” said Fisher, “also made clear that the Israelis desperately want peace either on an interim basis, step- by-step, or, if necessary, in the setting of Geneva.”
Fisher, Ford, Kissinger and Rabin knew that Geneva was not a viable option for America or Israel. Since Ford and Kissinger had used the prospect of a reconvened Geneva conference as leverage to pry Israel from her position on the passes, the prime minister ev- idently sent this message to indicate that the Israelis would not be intimidated about a decision to resume talks in Geneva, and would never retreat to their 1967 borders. In his memoirs, Rabin, remem- bering the events of 1975, said: “[Everyone knew that] the Geneva conference would lead to hopeless stalemate.... I could not believe that the United States was truly interested in convening a format that would literally invite the Soviet Union to resume a position of pri- mary influence in Middle Eastern affairs.... The Arabs demand a total withdrawal to the June 4, 1967 lines, and those lines were the cause of the war. [Israel has] defensible borders, and those are not the same as the June 4 lines.”
So now, Ford and Kissinger had the Israelis’ response to that U.S. negotiating lever. Yet Fisher and Garment had prepared the state- ment meticulously, offsetting Israel’s toughness with a more pliable tone. “Rabin and his government definitely do not favor the Geneva approach,” Fisher went on. “Rabin understands the vital interests of
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America and respects them. He feels, however, that what is needed now is to overcome the crisis in confidence which has arisen. He sug - gested certain steps and timing for the future.”
The tone of the text abruptly switched.
“First,” said Fisher, “[Rabin feels] that no further negotiations [should] take place until the U.S. reassessment is completed; and that the reassessment be completed as soon as possible since Israel cannot negotiate with this uncertainty hanging over her head.”
Candidly, Rabin was saying that Israel refused to be shoved into a settlement by threats of delayed American arms shipments or a reduc- tion in any type of aid. If an accord were to be attained with Egypt, Ford and Kissinger must plane down the rougher edges of their rheto- ric and desist from censuring Israel for the diplomatic imbroglio. “Second,” said Fisher, switching to the Israelis’ more malleable posture, “they are prepared to make more concrete proposals for peace on any of the levels outlined above —that is, they are prepared to: revive the present negotiations; make more extensive territorial concessions for a declaration of nonbelligerency [from Sadat]; or de- velop a comprehensive set of proposals for Geneva. But they know that they must work closely with [the president] and the secretary and must have [American] support and understanding in connection with any of these approaches.”
Fisher turned the page. In what was surely meant to assure Ford and Kissinger that the administration would not be embarrassed again by an unexpected twist in the talks, he said: “Rabin feels that negotiations should start on a lower level —or levels —and that the involvement of the secretary should be the last phase. Rabin pointed out that nego- tiations of such gravity must take time, citing Vietnam.”
Then Fisher offered what, from the Israeli perspective, was “do-able.” “Rabin,” Fisher explained, “said his government realized the delica- cy of America’s political policy vis-à-vis Israel and the Arab nations; accordingly, even after Sadat made it clear that he would not offer more than vague promises, Israel was still willing to give up the oil fields and half the passes on the basis of even vague assurances. This is a key point and was predicated entirely on the American relation-
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ship. As I mentioned before, Israeli public opinion would not toler- ate yielding strategic territory for nothing of substance in return, but nevertheless the government made this move and, surprisingly, was supported. As a result, in future negotiations Israel will be represented by a government which is substantially strengthened and now capable of even greater movement.”
Fisher, having let Ford and Kissinger know that Rabin would have more domestic room to operate politically, offered his personal assess- ment of the situation.
“This is a significant and positive development,” he said. “And one which is directly traceable to the recently suspended negotiations. Even the party of the hawks did not oppose giving up $350 million in annual income from the oil fields and half the passes.
“Another basic point Rabin made,” continued Fisher, “was that they were upset by the secretary’s effort —which they acknowledge was made in complete good faith — to substitute his judgment for theirs in the matter of security.” Fisher had been reading for twenty minutes, barely moving his eyes from the pages, as Ford and Kissinger listened without interruption. Each sentence had been carefully craft- ed by Garment and Fisher. It was an honest document, and a cautious one. Until this juncture, Fisher had not uttered one extemporaneous word. But now, upon revealing what had infuriated the Israelis about Kissinger’s approach and, in Fisher’s mind, contributed much to the deterioration of the talks, Fisher looked up from his pages, shifting his body toward Kissinger.
“Henry,” he said softly, staring at the secretary, “I know how badly you felt about the talks collapsing, but you can’t play God with the Israelis. They have to make up their own minds about their security. They may not be right, but it’s their decision.”
Kissinger was silent. Fisher resumed reading.
“I emphasize, however,” he said, “that there is a tremendous reser- voir of good will, affection and admiration for the secretary in Israel. The problem is that, given the state of Israeli sensitivity, private crit- icism and official pressure tend to produce negative reactions and, to put it bluntly, are extremely counterproductive. The cutoff of the visit
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of their ministers to the United States was viewed as a break in com- munications and increased the sense of suspicion and anxiety — par- ticularly on the part of the public —out of all proportion to what was presumably intended.”
Fisher was being diplomatic by saying that the cutting off of com- munications produced anxiety beyond what was “presumably intend- ed.” In fact, it was precisely what was intended, and now, for better or for worse, the Israeli rejoinder to that tactic was on the table for Ford and Kissinger to see. Chastising Israel in the press, behind closed doors at Cabinet meetings or in the halls of Congress would not lead to an agreement —it would widen the gulf already separating the parties. “During my visit,” said Fisher, “several congressional leaders were also visiting the Middle East. They talked to the Israelis about Sadat’s expectation that the United States will pressure Israel to do what Sadat wants. Sadat was also telling the congressional people that the Unit- ed States should stop supplying arms to Israel, although at the same time Egypt was receiving more arms from the Russians. The dominant Israeli view is that Sadat is playing both sides —the Soviets and the United States — against Israel, particularly with a view to driving a wedge between the United States and Israel.”
Fisher had issued a warning. Perhaps in their disappointment, and the resulting rush to assign blame, the president and secretary were be- ing manipulated by the Egyptians. It was certainly something to reflect on, and might temper their judgment against Israel.
“After three days of discussion,” Fisher read on, “I came to these conclusions: the talks apparently moved too fast and were suspended too soon. There is a substantially strengthened government in Israel and Israeli public opinion has moved considerably along the road in support of government initiatives for peace. There is still division in their negotiating team but there is greater unity than before. There is a very sober feeling that they must do something. They do not take the friendship of America lightly and suffer through any decision that threatens the strength of that friendship. There was a bad reaction to the pressure exerted on them toward the end of the negotiations. They are now working to develop and propose further concrete steps. They
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do not like Geneva, and, for the most part, would prefer to resume the three-party step-by-step process.
“I have given careful consideration to these matters since my return and have had useful discussions about them with many responsible and friendly persons. This included a lengthy and informative visit with the secretary yesterday afternoon.
“Mr. President, I would like to close this report by emphasizing three points:
“First, the private negotiating process that you and the secretary set in motion can and should be resumed. Second, there should be a cooling-off period while new plans are developed and discussed, and the emphasis shifts to the constructive possibilities of the coming year and away from the misunderstandings and disappointments of recent weeks. “I repeat: new strengths and new opportunities exist now that did not exist before, and these are the direct result of the recent ne- gotiations that you and the secretary set in motion. Finally, and most important, in order to clear the air, create confidence and to minimize suspicion and resistance, the most urgent need is to narrow the scope of your planned reassessment of Middle East policy. This should be done in your address to the Congress tomorrow. It is essential to make clear that reassessment does not suggest any change in the traditional U.S. interest in the maintenance of the security and national integrity of Israel, nor does it mean that Israel will be pressured or coerced into adopting negotiating positions which she does not believe are compat- ible with her long-term security needs.”
Fisher, always the conciliator, troubled about the tarnishing of Isra- el’s image — its divisive effect on the American Jewish community, and the corresponding political fallout, which, in light of the coming presidential campaign, would weaken Republican support — said to Ford: “A feeling of separation between the United States and Israel is growing in the American Jewish community and this could have profoundly harmful domestic as well as foreign-policy consequenc- es. On the other hand,” Fisher said, letting Ford and Kissinger know that the Israelis understood their half of the bargain, “it must be made absolutely clear to Israel that paralysis and turbulence in the Middle
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East threatens vital worldwide interests of the United States, and Israel therefore bears a heavy responsibility and must stretch itself to the utmost to contribute to a peaceful solution. It would also be helpful if you could state that both sides —Israel and Egypt —negotiated in good faith, and the suspension of the talks was the result of extremely complex political and strategic problems, but you are optimistic that progress is being achieved toward a just peace for all parties in the Middle East.”
Fisher had been reading for thirty-five minutes. When he finished, Ford came from behind his desk. Fisher and Kissinger rose and then the president stood between them, with his arms over their shoulders, saying. “Max, I want to thank you. I feel a lot better about things now. We’ll work together and try to make this thing possible.”
The president asked Fisher for a copy of his statement and invited him to join the Ford family in the audience on Thursday, while he ad- dressed Congress.
Garment’s strategy had paid off. Ford had listened; Kissinger had not interrupted.
The next day UPI reported: “President Ford met Wednesday with Detroiter Max Fisher. The White House said Fisher went to Israel for ‘a private and personal visit’ and that he gave the president a report on his activities there. [Press secretary Ron] Nessen said Fisher ‘did not go as an emissary for the president,’”
Despite the denial, word was spreading. And Ford had another sig- nal for Israel and American Jewish leaders. On Friday morning, April 11, The Washington Post covered Ford’s “State-of-the-World” address to Congress, running a page-one photograph of First Family members standing and clapping in the House gallery. The caption read: “As President Ford entered the House chamber for his speech, daughter Susan, son Jack, and Mrs. Ford joined in the applause.” The Post did not identify the tall man with the glasses who was beside Susan Ford; it was Max Fisher.
In the event that Fisher’s seat assignment was too indirect a gesture of reconciliation, the president was blatant in his message.
“The interests of America as well as our allies are vitally affected by
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what happens in the Middle East,” he told Congress, and the television audience. “Unfortunately, the latest efforts to reach a further interim agreement between Israel and Egypt have been suspended. The issues dividing the parties are vital to them and not amenable to easy and to quick solutions.... The United States will move ahead toward an over- all settlement or interim agreements, should the parties themselves de- sire them.”
“Reassessment,” the term that historians would designate as a sym- bol of the most embittered impasse in American-Israeli relations, was nowhere in the speech. Ford had said negotiations would proceed, but he had softened. His statement that “the issues dividing [Israel and Egypt] are vital to them and not amenable to easy and to quick solu- tions” implied that the disagreements between the two nations were complex. Pitfalls on the path to peace should be expected, and there- fore his administration could not drop the burden of blame on Israel’s shoulders.
Leonard Garment, exhibiting a talent for understatement, later re- marked that “the suggestion that Max have his thoughts in writing and insist on reading them turned out to be correct.”
“I just played a part,” adds Fisher. “The real players were Ford and Kissinger.”
Once again, because Fisher operated away from the media’s broad, bright eye, history would pass over his role.
“The ‘Jewish portfolio’ was handled in a unique way in the Ford White House,” writes political scientist Steven Spiegel. “Max Fisher ... [was] crucial as a ‘close’ and ‘old friend’ of the president. However, this system left him much weaker than Niles or Feldman, the vari- ous figures under Johnson, or the combination of Garment, Safire and Kissinger under Nixon.... Fisher could not deal with details in the daily routine because he was outside the administration. In any case, as the Dulles era demonstrated, it is extremely difficult for someone in the White House to deal with Israeli affairs when a czar [like Kissinger] reigns over the foreign-policy apparatus. When there is only one for- eign-policy channel to the president, the influence of an extra-bureau - cratic adviser is likely to be negligible.”
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But Fisher had his own safe channel to the president; he was on Ford’s select list of three dozen individuals who could phone the presi- dent on a private number. Additionally, as Fisher’s activities on Friday morning demonstrated, he carried more than the “Jewish portfolio.” That morning, at ten thirty-five, Fisher was in the Oval Office chat - ting with Ford. He congratulated him on his speech, its calming effect, the sense of unity that it encouraged. Then, along with the president’s closest advisers, they got down to business. The subject: politics — the beginnings of Ford’s 1976 election campaign.
Around dinnertime, an exhausted Max Fisher boarded Northwest Flight 367 and flew to Detroit. As he walked into his house, the phone rang. Henry Kissinger was calling.
***
Because Kissinger would stamp his personality on the diplomacy of the period, his personal relationship with the major and minor play- ers became not just entertaining speculation for columnists, but a notable piece of history. In sunnier moments, from the Nixon admin- istration on, Kissinger and Fisher were attentive friends. Kissinger, often at Fisher’s request, briefed various Jewish leadership groups. The two men met when Fisher was in Washington, keeping each oth- er apprised of developments in government and the American Jew- ish community. Beyond politics, especially after Kissinger was no longer secretary of state, their friendship deepened. Get-well wishes during the illnesses of both men were sent; affectionate notes, brim- ming with news and ending with regards to each other’s wives, were fairly common.
As the years passed, Fisher and Kissinger appeared to establish a mutual-admiration society. In 1982, The New York Post’s “Page Six” reported: “Former Secretary of State Henry Kissinger rarely opens his mouth these days for under five figures, but he happily forgoes his usu - al lecture fees when it comes to friendship. [On] Thursday, November 18, [Kissinger will] be the keynote speaker at the Grand Hyatt when the American Jewish Congress hands out this year’s prestigious Ste-
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phen Wise [award] ... to Max Fisher. Henry’s doing it for love [since he] has long been an admirer ... of Fisher.”
Less than a year later, Fisher attended Kissinger’s sixtieth birthday celebration at the Hotel Pierre in New York City. Afterward, Fisher wrote him: “To have so many people all over the world honor you is certainly an expression of the gratitude people feel for what you have done. I particularly, Henry, have always had great respect for [your] work. To me you are the greatest. By the way, it was a distinct honor and pleasure to be seated next to your mother, who is not your severest critic.”
Kissinger repaid the tribute when Fisher turned eighty, calling him “a lodestar of the American Jewish community,” and with that compli- ment possibly revealed the shadow that dimmed a small corner of his relationship with Fisher.
For Kissinger it could not have been personal, nor even remotely reminiscent of his duel with Secretary of State Rogers over foreign pol- icy during the Nixon administration. Fisher, located outside the daily gnashings of government and not involved in the formation of policy, did not pose a bureaucratic threat. And as Leonard Garment suggested, Kissinger was far too respectful of Fisher for that kind of infighting, And Fisher was too fond of —and too sensitive to —Kissinger for a war in the press; furthermore, it was not his style. Nor was there any reason to engage the secretary in a competition for the president’s at- tention: Fisher’s access to Ford was secure.
Yet, with the consuming conflicts of the reassessment, the darker edges of the secretary’s ambivalent relationship with America’s Jewish community — and their mixed response to him — began to sound a discordant note within the orchestrations of diplomacy. So it was only natural that Fisher, Kissinger’s “lodestar,” as the embodiment of that community, would inadvertently find himself in the path of the secre - tary’s anger.
But on Friday evening, April 10, 1975, when Fisher picked up the phone at his home in Michigan, Kissinger was relaxed.
“Max,” the secretary said, “I want to thank you for helping me turn the president around on the reassessment. I think the peace process can
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now continue. We’re going to follow your suggestion and resume the talks at a lower level.”
Fisher replied that he was glad to be of assistance. Kissinger, of course, had been behind the reassessment from the start, but the pur- pose of his thanks was clear: it was a bid for reconciliation between the administration —more specifically Henry Kissinger —and America’s Jewish communal leaders. The administration would require their do- mestic support for the process to advance.
The phone call ended amicably. And Fisher would pass the word in the community and to Israel. Such is the duty of any pragmatist striv- ing to be an artist of the possible. But Fisher’s role was not done. The president’s speech, and Kissinger’s call, had only been a respite from the tremors of the reassessment. The noise from Israeli sympathizers in Washington in the spring and summer of 1975 swelled to a record pitch. Less than three weeks after his conversation with Kissinger, Fisher was in the Oval Office talking with Ford and Chief of Staff Rumsfeld. The president began by complaining about the perception of the American Jewish community that he was “cold” toward Israel. “It’s not true,” said Ford.
Fisher agreed with the president, but indicated that the reassessment hardly bolstered the community’s confidence in the administration. Also, Fisher said, Kissinger’s emotional response to the breakdown of the talks —and the manner in which the controversy played out in the press —inflamed the disagreement between Washington and Jerusalem. Ford replied that he hoped the worst of it was behind them now, and mentioned that he was optimistic about his upcoming June talks with Sadat and Rabin.
The final order of business was the 1976 presidential campaign. Ford asked Fisher to begin involving himself at the top level. Fisher said that he would get started. Ford may have been sanguine about his chances for hammering out a second disengagement between Israel and Egypt, but he was underestimating the effect of the reassessment on the Israelis, the American Jewish community and Congress.
On May 9, The London Jewish Times ran a story on Ford’s ear- ly-April discussion with Fisher and Kissinger, declaring that the secre-
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tary of state had “clashed sharply and angrily with [Fisher] over the re- sponsibility for the failure of Dr. Kissinger’s last mission in the Middle East.” After recapping Kissinger’s claim that the Israeli government had misled him, the story said that Fisher was sent on a fact-finding mission to Israel. Upon his return, he informed the president, through a long memorandum, that Kissinger had not been misled, but had been “too optimistic.” Ford, said the story, sided with Fisher, and “Kissing- er’s position was for a time in doubt. But the president was not prepared to see Kissinger resign at this particular traumatic period of American diplomatic failures, and the dispute was smoothed over.”
“It never happened,” Kissinger says today, “that Ford and I, in the end, disagreed.”
But by May 1975, the administration was rapidly losing political ground in the Jewish community and Congress.
Advertisements in The New York Times and The New York Post, sponsored by the local chapter of the United Jewish Appeal, warned Jews about the reassessment, saying that “the price of silence was the Warsaw ghetto. Bergen-Belsen. Auschwitz. Dachau. Speak now, so that we never again pay the price of silence.” On May 12, Time magazine reported on the formation of American Jews against Ford, a committee that was spearheading a national drive to defeat the presi- dent’s bid for re-election. AJAF opposed Ford because “his policy runs counter to the survival of Israel,” and was “a disaster for the United States and the free world.” AJAF was noteworthy as an indication of the anger at Ford in the Jewish community because it backed no specif- ic candidate and pledged to support any hopeful who could beat Ford in the primaries.
The biggest blow to the Ford administration’s policy of reassessment landed on the president’s desk on May 21. Seventy-six senators, from both ends of the political spectrum, sent Ford a letter stating that peace in the Middle East requires Israel to “obtain a level of military and economic support adequate to deter a renewal of war by Israel’s neigh- bors. Withholding military equipment from Israel would be dangerous, discouraging accommodation by Israel’s neighbors and encouraging a resort to force.... Within the next several weeks, the Congress expects
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to receive your foreign aid requirements for fiscal year 1976. We trust that your recommendations will be responsive to Israel’s urgent mili- tary and economic needs.”
In A Time to Heal, Ford wrote that the letter “really bugged me, and there was no doubt in my mind that it was inspired by Israel.” He thought the Israelis were “overplaying their hand,” and commented that, for him, this “kind of pressure was counterproductive. I was not going to capitulate to it.”
Fisher saw that the power struggle unfolding threatened both Middle East peace and Ford’s nascent 1976 campaign. Attempting to defuse the situation, he spoke to leaders in the American Jewish community, in Israel and to Simcha Dinitz, the Israeli Ambassador to Washington. Meanwhile, Ford and Kissinger had been encouraging Israel to de- velop fresh ideas for a settlement. Late Sunday afternoon on May 26, Fisher went to the Oval Office and spent forty-five minutes relaying the new Israeli formulations for peace to Ford and Rumsfeld.
Again, Ford expressed his displeasure with the pressure, and Fisher commiserated with him. But, Fisher said, despite the protests, he be- lieved that the president had an opportunity to resolve the dispute. Reading from two typewritten pages of notes, Fisher said: “I have always refrained from making detailed recommendations to you or to Dr. Kissinger on Middle East policy. It’s not a useful or proper role for me to play. What I have tried to do is to make sure that the United States and Israel understand the thinking and feeling on each side; to help maintain a climate of trust; and to convey my perception of any changes in the position of the Israeli government and my assessment of the significance of those changes.
“Since we last met,” Fisher continued, “I, along with others in this country and in Israel, have made it known to the Israeli leadership the belief that the Israelis must take the initiative. The failure to act is itself a decision and involves risks that may be as great, or greater, than those resulting from an affirmative proposal. There are many — particularly in Israel —who disagree with this view.”
Glancing up from his notes, Fisher told Ford that he had asked Am- bassador Dinitz to make it clear to Prime Minister Rabin and Foreign
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Minister Allon that movement on their part was crucial. Dinitz, said Fisher, raised the issue of the administration cutting off American aid. Fisher told Dinitz that this was irrelevant: aid had not been cut off, nor would it be. Remember, Fisher told Dinitz, Israel must move to keep the negotiations alive.
Ford said: “What’s holding the Israelis back, Max?”
“They think Henry will take advantage of them,” replied Fisher. “But that’s too subjective a view — a result of all the deep emotions around the reassessment. Henry wouldn’t do that.”
Ford asked: “Do you think they’ll show some flexibility?”
“Yes,” said Fisher. “Dinitz called me back. He explained that Rabin and Allon were willing to move on an interim agreement. But only if there was some indication that Sadat was not being rigid with his de- mands. If Rabin and Allon had some proof that Egypt was being flex - ible, they feel they could get approval from the Cabinet. If they went ahead now with a Cabinet vote, they’d lose politically.”
Dinitz, said Fisher, informed him that Israel might well evacuate the Mitla and Gidi passes in the Sinai if they could secure a lengthy agreement with Egypt; a commitment from Sadat not to use force to settle their differences; a buffer zone; and manned, early-warning sur- veillance stations.
“There is a lot of face-saving going on here,” Fisher told Ford. “It is clear to me that these comments —although carefully thought through and authorized —are only a sign of the developing attitude [in Israel] and should not be taken as an intention on their part to act, at this time, on an isolated set of proposals. My feeling is that they would go to great lengths to get an agreement with Egypt on the non- use of force.” The last topic on Fisher’s agenda was the proposed Geneva peace conference. Fisher relayed the prime minister’s mes- sage to Ford, saying that if the United States felt that Geneva was in the best interests of peace, then Israel was willing to sit at the table with America as a partner. In sum, Rabin’s rejoinder was geopolit- ical eyewash — he knew that the United States would never invite the Soviet Union to assume a more influential posture in the Middle East. That Ford kept publicly and privately alluding to the confer-
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ence and would raise the possibility again with Rabin in June was more demonstrative of the president’s exasperation with the stalled peace process, and its personal political ramifications, than with any earnest U.S. game plan.
Fisher departed the Oval Office confident that there was enough room in the two positions for the president to jump-start negotiations.
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At the beginning of June, Ford spoke with Sadat in Salzburg, Austria. Ford recalled that Sadat said Egypt was “willing to go as far as [the United States thinks] we should go [to achieve peace].” Abuffer zone in the Sinai was discussed. Ten days later, Ford spoke to Rabin in Washington. According to the president, Rabin “seemed intrigued” about the notion of a buffer zone. The prime minister also agreed to a deeper Israeli withdrawal in the Sinai, but it was not deep enough to suit Sadat, who wanted Israel out of the passes.
On June 13, when Fisher conferred with Kissinger and Ford in the Oval Office, the president told him: “The Israelis could do more for peace. They have to leave the passes. 0therwise, we’ll have to devel- op a comprehensive plan for Geneva. I’m disappointed with the with- drawal lines Rabin proposed.”
Kissinger said: “Time is running out. If they would move on this, then there would be no problem of economic and military aid.” The secretary of state added that Rabin’s refusal to move out of the passes was based on political necessities not military realities.
Fisher didn’t even bother to address the prospect of Geneva. He told the president and secretary that he would speak to Prime Minister Rabin and Foreign Minister Allon.
In Israel, Fisher spoke with Rabin and Allon. They were, Fisher says, “troubled by the president’s reaction.” Fisher gave them his as- sessment of their options: they could lose this opportunity for peace and deplete their good will at the White House; they could go to Gene- va, which would lead nowhere and engender more bad feeling; or they could leave the passes and, with a sizable military-assistance package
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from the United States, Israel would have the weaponry to ensure that Sadat kept his promises.
The prime minister said that he needed time. Fisher thought that the secretary of state had been right~ Rabin’s problem was political. Upon his return from Israel, Fisher flew to Washington for a meeting with Kissinger at the State Department.
“Henry,” Fisher said, “just give them a little while to formulate an- other position. They’ll come around.”
“I hope so,” Kissinger replied. “We have one more shot at negotiations.” On a July trip to West Germany, Kissinger huddled secretly with Rabin. They consented to the Sinai intelligence-gathering stations. Soon after, Sadat relented to three annual renewals of the mandate for the U.N. peacekeeping force. However, the depth of the Israeli with- drawal from the passes remained an issue.
On August 18, shortly before Kissinger resumed his shuttle diplo- macy in the Middle East, Fisher led a delegation of American Jewish leaders to Washington to talk with the secretary of state.
Fisher began the meeting by telling the leaders that the unrest in the Jewish community and the community’s lack of understanding of what Ford and Kissinger were trying to accomplish was interfering with the diplomatic process. Fisher then turned the meeting over for questions. Rabbi Israel Miller, chairman of the Presidents Conference, asked Kissinger why so much pressure was being put on Israel, saying that some pressure should be applied to the Egyptians. Kissinger skirted the question by responding that in the negotiations Israel had been pre- sented with several alternatives. Admittedly, said Kissinger, there were grave risks if Israel opted for an interim settlement, but on balance it would be better for them to have one. During further questioning, Kissinger affirmed that even if no interim agreement was signed, the United States was committed to furnishing Israel with military aid to maintain the regional balance of power. Yet, he said, it would be far better for everyone if an agreement could be reached.
Members of the delegation repeatedly raised the subject of pressure. Many in the group felt that the administration did not fully appreciate the internal political squabbling faced by Rabin — inherent in every
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democracy, particularly when the security of a nation was at stake. Kissinger said that he understood Rabin’s problem, but that he thought the prime minister could overcome it. What, Kissinger was asked, would happen if the Egyptians broke this agreement. The secretary of state replied that Israel would have the full backing of the United States if such circumstances arose.
The point, though, that Kissinger wanted to accentuate was that an American presence in the Sinai — so crucial to closing the deal be- tween Egypt and Israel —would require congressional approval. The administration hoped that the leaders of the American Jewish commu- nity would see fit to advocate for this action.
In his notes on the meeting, Fisher wrote: “I felt that almost every- body came out feeling reassured. We wished [the secretary] well on his trip.”
Nine days later, when Fisher returned to Washington to talk with Ford, most of the details of Sinai II had been thrashed out by Kissinger with the Egyptians and Israelis. Israel would withdraw from the Abu Rhodeis oil fields and the Gidi and Mitla passes. Buffer zones, U.N. forces and a U.S. civilian presence to supervise the intelligence-gath- ering stations were also included. Egypt and Israel agreed not to use force to work out their differences, and the Egyptians publicly stated that the Israelis would be permitted to ship and to receive non-military cargo through the Suez Canal.
The Ford administration committed to a $2-billion aid package for Israel and agreed to consider Israeli requests for F-16 jets and missiles with conventional warheads. Furthermore, the administration pledged to confer regularly with the Israelis on their future economic and mil- itary needs and to ask Congress for annual aid. Moreover, the admin- istration promised to remunerate Israel for the oil lost by relinquishing Abu Rhodeis, and to alleviate any shortfalls in the country’s normal consumption.
At his August 2,7 meeting with Ford, Fisher later wrote that he “and the president went into the matter of the Mideast settlement very thoroughly.” Fisher told Ford that he thought that the administration should meet with Jewish community leaders immediately upon initial-
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ing the accord, so that the White House could have their full support. After all, reaction to the disengagement in the United States and Israel would be laced with the anger and distrust that had infiltrated the rela - tionship between Washington and Jerusalem as the reassessment wore on. Ford agreed that a meeting with Jewish leaders would be benefi - cial. Then Ford said that the American presence in the Sinai must be wholeheartedly endorsed by Congress so as to avoid a replay of the muddled consensus that led to U.S. involvement in Southeast Asia. Ford commented that Fisher could be helpful on this point by speaking to Republican leaders.
Their conversation shifted to politics. Fisher said that he was dis- couraged with the Republican financial campaign: they had only raised $600,000. He observed that the program appeared to be out of synch and something should be done to align it. Fisher suggested that a more formal approach be implemented. The president said that he would look into it.
Finally, they spoke about the economy. Fisher said that the tight-money policy of Arthur Burns, chairman of the Federal Reserve Board, was having a deleterious effect on the stock market, and a poor psychological impact on the business world and the public. Ford said that he would be talking to Dr. Burns, admitting that he knew if eco- nomic conditions didn’t improve well before November 1976, “no Re- publican would be elected president.”
Although Fisher later noted that his meeting with Ford had been “thoroughly satisfactory,” he left the Oval Office feeling dispirited. He didn’t have the heart to tell his friend that it would take far more than a revived economy for him to win the White House. Nearly a year ago, on September 8, 1974, Ford had granted Nixon an unconditional par- don for any federal crimes he may have committed as president. Fisher thought that Ford had done the proper thing —the only thing —to get the country past its obsession with Watergate. Now, though, as Fisher prepared for the 1976 campaign, he recognized that the electorate had not forgiven the Republicans for the scandal, and because of the par- don, Ford was, at best, a long shot.
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The signing of the second Egyptian-Israeli disengagement was an- nounced on September 1. Israeli right-wing critics declared the accord a failure since it did not produce direct negotiations or force Egypt to promise a policy of nonbelligerency toward Israel. Sinai II also had its critics in the United States. In the American Jewish community, much of the criticism was due to a lingering resentment of the administration for undertaking the reassessment. Then, too, with Vietnam still playing on the nightly news, Congress was leery of ordering American observ- ers to the Middle East, and so the Sinai agreement began to undergo congressional scrutiny and debate.
On September 1, Fisher was in Chicago on business, but he found time to trumpet the administration’s successful handling of the nego- tiations. He told the Chicago Daily News “that the American Jewish community will be overwhelmingly behind the agreement and the same sentiment will be found in the non-Jewish community.” When asked about the controversy over stationing 200 U.S. observers in the Sinai, Fisher replied that this “should not be compared with the slide-into-Vietnam argument. In Vietnam, we sent in U.S. observers on the side of the South Vietnamese to help them fight a war, Here we are sending in observers for both sides to help them keep the peace. This shows a desire on the part of Egypt [for] peace. [Both countries] want the Americans there.”
Fisher phoned Rabin in Tel Aviv to congratulate him. Then he called Ford at Camp David. The president thanked Fisher for his help. They toasted the agreement.
Fisher said: “The only one I haven’t spoken to is Sadat.”
The president laughed, and they arranged to meet the following week.
A week later, in a move to boost support for the disengagement, Fisher brought a delegation of thirty-three American Jewish leaders to talk with Ford and Kissinger in the Cabinet Room of the White House. During the talk, Ford said that “a large supporting majority in Congress” for placing technicians in the advance-warning stations be-
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tween the new Israeli and Egyptian lines in the Sinai “would help the atmosphere for peace.” Rabbi Israel Miller said that Ford and Kissing- er convinced the group to support the agreement. Following one month of debate, Congress approved the agreements. Yet criticism continued. In fact, the breadth of Sinai II’s achievement can be discerned in the voice of its most vocal critic, President Hafez el-Assad of Syria. Assad protested that the accords amounted to a separate peace between Egypt and Israel.
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Chapter 16
LESSONS LEARNED
THEADMINISTRATION’S TRIUMPH in the Middle East did not translate into broad-based political support for Ford. Polls indicated that 40 percent of Republicans and 27 percent of independents pre- ferred former Governor Ronald Reagan. The Harris Survey predicted that even if Ford won the nomination, he would lose the election to Hubert Humphrey by a margin of 52 to 41.
Fisher, however, had more parochial concerns. He was worried about the President Ford Committee’s inability to raise money; the PFC had raised less than 10 percent of its projected $10-million goal. In Ford and Fisher’s home state of Michigan, things were so bad that the local GOP feared that the economically depressed state might go Democratic in 1976. So on September 20, the state GOP held a week- end leadership conference on Mackinac Island. According to the De- troit Free Press, Fisher “made a rare public appearance before the Re- publican State Committee to promote the sale of tickets for an October 10 fund-raiser in Detroit to be attended by President Ford.” The goal, said Fisher, was $500,000. Although the proceeds were earmarked for Governor William G. Milliken’s re-election campaign, Fisher thought that a strong showing would stimulate support for the president. At the October dinner in Detroit’s Cobo Hall, Ford spoke to an enthusiastic audience of 4,000, each paying $50 a ticket. But Fisher discovered that raising funds for the 1976 campaign was harder than in earlier years, and it was not only because of the president’s lagging popularity or the disorganization at the PFC. Anew election law now restricted con- tributors to giving $1,000 to a presidential candidate. Political Action Committees (PACs) were not allowed to donate more than $5,000.
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Five days after Ford appeared in Detroit, Fisher went to Washing- ton and appealed to the president to straighten out his campaign. As a result, the president appointed Robert A. Mosbacher Sr., a forty-eight- year-old Texas oil man, as head fund-raiser for the PFC. Fisher was delighted. He had been friendly with the Mosbacher family since the 1940s. Mosbacher, who, in the spring of 1990 was serving as secretary of commerce in the Bush administration, says that he marveled at Fish- er’s network of people who were willing to raise money.
“We wouldn’t have done as well without Max,” says Mosbacher. “He had so much experience at this sort of thing, and he knew everyone.” As the campaign got on track, problems flared again between Wash - ington and Jerusalem. In October 1975, Sadat had become the first Egyptian leader to visit the United States, making an eloquent speech before Congress. The administration was leaning toward cutting an arms deal with Egypt, which concerned many in Congress and, of course, the Israelis. Then, too, the United States was about to shift the start of its fiscal year from July to October. Israel hoped to re - ceive $500 million of transitional aid, which Kissinger had promised. However, with Ford’s assent, the Office of Management and Budget removed these funds from the $4.5 billion aid request.
In mid-December, Fisher, upon returning from a trip to Israel, spoke to Scowcroft and Ford in the Oval Office for an hour and fifteen min - utes. Fisher says that he gave the national security adviser and the president “my best assessment of the situation,” which was essentially that Israel was starting to demonstrate an inclination to be more ac- commodating in the interest of peace. Fisher said that he thought he had “a calming effect” on Rabin. But he did tell the prime minister that continuing to build settlements on the West Bank would become troublesome in the not-too-distant future.
Next, the three men discussed the aid request. Fisher said that Rabin badly needed the military credits for payments on hardware. Fisher rec- ommended that the president try to reach some compromise — maybe $250 million or $275 million. First, Fisher said, the aid would bolster Rabin’s political posture, which would make him feel more secure and therefore more willing to climb out on a limb for peace. Secondly, to
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deny the aid put Kissinger in “an untenable position,” since he had promised it to Rabin.
Lastly, there was the president’s political status to consider. Fisher said that the perception of Ford in the American Jewish community — albeit incorrect —was that the president was anti-Israel. This was, said Fisher, a potentially damaging situation; Ford would need the commu- nity in his comer to win in November. Fisher said that if Scoop Jack- son ran against Ford, then the senator would do well with Jewish vot- ers. But if James E. Carter Jr. became the candidate, then Ford would have a tremendous opportunity because the Jewish community was not drawn to him. Fisher suggested that Ford address some Jewish organi- zations — the American Jewish Committee, for example, which was holding its annual dinner in Washington on May 13. An appearance before such a crowd, Fisher said, would provide the president with a chance to clarify his position on Israel and give him a robust start on his campaign.
Meanwhile, Ford was winning in the primaries. In February, he beat Reagan in New Hampshire and Florida. Then he won in Massachusetts and Vermont. In March, he captured 59 percent of the Republican vote in Illinois (where Reagan was born). At this juncture, the president had 166 delegates of the 1,130 needed to secure the nomination; Reagan had 54. Ford recalled in his memoirs that “both camps expected [Rea- gan] to quit.”
Although optimistic about being nominated at the August conven- tion in Kansas City, Ford abruptly found himself under fire from Con - gress and the American Jewish community for agreeing to sell Egypt six C-130 Hercules transport jets. Senator Henry Jackson, considered a leading contender for the Democratic presidential nomination, made the transport sale a focal point of his campaign, calling it “cynical and dangerous,” and saying that it could “only increase the chance of war in the Middle East.” The administration estimated that if the C-130s went to an up-and-down roll-call vote in Congress at the moment, the sale might easily be defeated.
On March 9, the president, hoping to skirt a blowup on the order of the reassessment, met with Fisher, Scowcroft and Richard Cheney,
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whom Ford had selected as his chief of staff when he sent Rumsfeld to replace James Schlesinger as secretary of defense.
Fisher started by saying that it appeared to the Jewish community — and perhaps more than half of Congress — as though Ford were forging a new relationship with the Arab world at the expense of Israel. Arming Egypt was a dangerous game.
“All we have in mind,” Ford replied, “is trying to keep Sadat in power —to avoid making him the victim of a revolution —by show- ing his people that he is getting help from America. We also want to prevent the Russians from becoming his ally again.”
“The best method,” Fisher said, “for controlling the situation in the Jewish community, would be to bring some Jewish leaders to the White House to meet with you as soon as possible.”
The president consented. Fisher said that he would talk to the Israeli ambassador, Simcha Dinitz, to see if Dinitz could help the adminis- tration muster some support. Ford made it clear to Fisher that he was adamant about selling Sadat the C-130s, and he would not be deterred by political repercussions.
Fisher nodded, later jotting down a note that said “if [the sale] doesn’t go through, Israel will lose a very good friend.”
The question of transitional aid was raised. The Democratic-con- trolled Congress seemed inclined to grant the request. However, Fisher said, he had heard that Congressman Otto E. Passman, a Democrat from Louisiana, who was chairman of the House Appropriations Sub- committee on Foreign Operations, was passing a message around the Capitol that he had received a nod from Ford not to do much about the increased funds.
“Passman,” said Ford, “is a foxy old guy, and he’s probably using this strategy to keep within his budget.”
Scowcroft said that $500 million was too much to add to the budget. Fisher replied that Israel was going to receive the money from Con- gress anyway, and the administration would wind up “with egg all over its face” and get no political credit for the approval of the package. Ford scheduled a meeting with Jewish leaders for March 17. During the week prior to the conference, the wrangling over the sale increased.
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Prime Minister Rabin was quoted as telling the Knesset that Israel was locked in a “bitter argument” with the United States. Rabin explained that he was less concerned over the particular items to be sold to Egypt than over the creation of an “arms supply precedent.”
Fisher thought that Rabin was misreading the president. More im- portant, America had its own interests to pursue, namely making a friend of Sadat. The Egyptian leader was in the process of severing his relationship with the Soviets, demanding that they withdraw their ships and aircraft from his country. The Kremlin responded by can- celing deliveries of spare parts to Egypt, refusing to reschedule debts and collaborating with Libya and Syria to undermine Sadat’s power. Ford was eager to remove Egypt from the Soviet sphere of influence and felt that Sadat was in dire need of a show of approbation from the United States.
Fisher phoned Scowcroft to discuss the situation. The NSC adviser mentioned that he had been up front with the Israeli ambassador, in- forming Dinitz that the president would be quite displeased if Israel tried to mobilize opposition to the sale of jets to Egypt. Then Fisher called Dinitz. He told the ambassador that Ford was going to sell Egypt the C-130s —nothing would stop him. Thus Israel would be well ad- vised to go along with it, and would the ambassador please pass this message along to Rabin? Dinitz said that he would talk to the prime minister, saying that he did not really feel that the sale of the transports was “an important enough issue to make a fuss about.”
On March 17, thirteen Jewish leaders filed into the Cabinet Room. Ford sat at the head of the table, flanked by Kissinger and Scowcroft. The president opened by stating that he was pledged to the security and integrity of Israel. Yet forcing the Soviets out of Egypt was in the best interests of the entire free world. Kissinger said that Egypt could not be rearmed by America because it would take five to ten years, and the United States was simply extending symbolic aid to the Egyptians, not inaugurating a long-term commitment to sell them arms.
Ford listened as questions were fired at him. In his answers, he accentuated that his administration would do nothing to upset Israel’s military advantage. Fisher, attempting to show that Ford was becom-
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ing more sympathetic toward approving transitional aid for Israel, asked the president if he were still set on vetoing the appropriation. Ford said the matter was now an open subject. He would have to wait and see. According to Fisher’s notes, “the meeting lasted an hour and a half — far too long — and the kind of rough questioning [of the president] was unnecessary. [But] all in all, the president came off well —as a man who was in command of the situation and who would not mislead you.”
As the debate over the C-130 sale cooled, the president sustained an- other blow. On March 23, Reagan, defying the pollsters, defeated Ford in the North Carolina primary, winning 52 percent of the vote and twen- ty-eight of the state’s fifty-four delegates. Ford was shocked. It was, as he recorded in A Time to Heal, “only the third time in U.S. history that a challenger had defeated an incumbent president in a primary.”
While Ford turned his attention to the upcoming New York and Wisconsin primaries, the relationship between Israel and America un- derwent another jolt. Delivering a speech before the United Nations Security Council, America’s newly appointed U.N. ambassador, Wil- liam Scranton, criticized Israel’s policies in East Jerusalem and the West Bank. Scranton stated that “unilateral measures” taken by Isra- el would not “prejudge the final and permanent status of Jerusalem” which would be “determined only through the instruments and pro- cess of negotiation, agreement and accommodation.” Declaring that the “substantial resettlement of the Israeli civilian population in oc- cupied territories, including East Jerusalem, was ‘illegal,’” Scranton announced that “the presence of these settlements is seen by my gov- ernment as an obstacle to the success of the negotiations for a just and final peace between Israel and its neighbors.”
Fisher received dozens of calls from Jewish leaders, asking him why the administration would allow Scranton to say such things. Was Ford planning to cut a deal with Yasser Arafat and the PLO? Fisher had been among those who recommended Scranton for his post at the United Nations, believing that he had “a warm attitude to the Jewish community and to Israel.” He phoned Scranton in New York and in- quired about the wording of the statement. The ambassador told Fisher
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that he shouldn’t worry; no one was going to let Israel down. Scranton explained that he was new to his job, and just learning that one could hardly utter a few words without them being misinterpreted. He never meant that the United States should negotiate with the PLO.
Fisher told Jewish community leaders that Scranton was a good man who had made a mistake. Still, the controversy about Scranton’s re- marks persisted. Arriving in Israel for meetings with the Jewish Agen- cy Board of Governors, Fisher was confronted by reporters — notably from The Jerusalem Post and Davar — who grilled him on the rocky relationship between Israel and the Ford administration.
Fisher responded with an uncharacteristic display of pique. The pressures of an election year, the series of battles between the White House and the Jewish community, his circling from Detroit to New York to Washington and to Jerusalem, had taken their toll. When asked why the administration was reneging on its promise to approve tran- sitional aid for Israel, Fisher retorted: “If a man wants to give you $4 billion instead of $4.5 billion is he an enemy or an ally?” Fisher then rebuked Israel and American Jewry for “overreacting” to the aid issue, to the Scranton speech, to the sale of six planes to Egypt, and in gener- al to the “strains,” which the Israeli press reports “without foundation” almost every other week.
“Is four billion dollars in aid over two years a sign of ‘strain’?” Fisher asked reporters. “People here seem to forget about the $4 billion and talk only about the other half-a-billion. You have to understand [the president’s] problems. He has vetoed thirty-nine bills for federal spending at home. He’s stopped aid to the cities. People ask him ‘Why send funds overseas when there are these problems at home?’”
In reference to the Scranton speech, Fisher was pressed for his view of the dispute over the West Bank, always a controversial subject in Israel. For someone in Fisher’s position, answering such a question in Israeli newspapers was guaranteed to win him as many friends as enemies. Fisher didn’t hedge. He said: “I see the Palestinian problem as the gut issue of the [Arab-Israeli] conflict.” He acknowledged that his stance was frowned upon by government leaders, but said that “he does not feel restricted by [their opinions].” Fisher said that he had
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noticed “a definite shift in the attitude of Israeli intellectuals toward the Palestinian problem,” but he “had not seen this reflected in govern - ment circles.”
Fisher was then asked for his opinion of Henry Kissinger. In the course of negotiating the disengagements, the secretary of state had been vilified by Israel’s right wing, particularly by the Gush Emunim (Guardians of the Faith), a movement of religious ultra-nationalists, who referred to Kissinger as “Jewboy,” and “the husband of a Gentile woman.” In the spring of 1975, Kissinger came under renewed attack in Israel with the publication of Matti Golan’s book, The Secret Con- versations of Henry Kissinger. Golan, a diplomatic correspondent and columnist for the Israeli newspaper Haaretz, maintained that during the Yom Kippur War, Kissinger had blocked the resupply shipments to Israeli out of “strict political calculation.” For Kissinger, wrote Golan, the airlift ran the risk of damaging America’s “still hoped-for coopera- tion with Moscow and future relations with the Arab countries.” Fisher responded to reporters by stating that Kissinger was the only secretary of state who had generated momentum toward peace — the others had failed. “If he weren’t Jewish,” said Fisher, “he wouldn’t be getting that kind of coarse criticism from Jewish leaders. The Jews had no impact at all on [Secretaries of State John Foster] Dulles or [Dean] Rusk. The [Jewish community] couldn’t even get in to see them.” Dismissing the allegations that Kissinger deliberately delayed the airlift to Israel during the Yom Kippur War, Fisher said: “I was as in- volved in that episode as anyone —certainly more so than [Matti Go- lan]. One day I’ll publish my version. You have to look at actions, results. Nixon and Kissinger delivered the goods, in time.”
The reporter from The Jerusalem Post had a parting shot for Fisher. Are the Republicans, Fisher was asked, good for Israel? Perhaps the Democrats would be more friendly.
“Look at the record,” Fisher snapped, “and consider who was more supportive of Israel —Kennedy and Johnson, or Nixon and Ford.” Five days later, when Fisher landed in Detroit, he discovered that his interviews had been picked up by papers across the country. He also discovered that many American Jewish leaders disagreed with
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him. On April 12, The Boston Globe reported that “Jewish leaders, who worked for Richard Nixon’s re-election in 1972, believe President Ford, if nominated, will not attract more than a small percentage of Jewish votes” in the election. Their belief was based on “the grow- ing apprehension among Jews about the Ford-Kissinger policy toward Israel.” The article quoted, among others, Rita Hauser, a New York attorney and member of the Committee for the Re-Election of the Pres- ident in 1972. Hauser said: “Mr. Ford will have a difficult time getting the Jewish vote this year.” Bertram H. Gold, executive director of the American Jewish Committee, added that “at this rate, any Democratic candidate will get 85 percent of the Jewish vote.” And former Nixon supporter Norman Podhoretz, editor of Commentary magazine, de- clared that the Republicans “certainly seem to have turned their backs on the Jewish vote.”
The problem, says Fisher, was not limited to the administration’s relationship to Israel. The new laws restricting campaign contributions made it impossible to fund the ethnic outreach programs that were so productive for Nixon in 1972.
Fisher broached several political uncertainties with Ford on the af- ternoon of April 20 when they spoke in the Oval Office.
They also discussed Fisher’s trip to Israel. Ford told him that he thought a portion of the transitional aid could be arranged. Fisher re- plied that such a package would certainly help quiet the critics in Isra- el, Congress and the American Jewish community. Ford asked about the turmoil on the West Bank, and whether or not Israel would ever consent to trading more land for more peace. Fisher said that he didn’t know, but the civil war in Lebanon did little to buttress Israel’s feeling of security. Right before their talk ended, Ford said that he was going to step up his campaign efforts in the Jewish community; he was taking Fisher’s suggestion and was scheduled to address the annual meeting of the American Jewish Committee at the Washington Hilton.
The president did speak to the AJC on May 13, pledging that the United States would “remain the ultimate guarantor of Israel’s free- dom.” But by then, Ford was fighting for his life in the primaries. Back in April, after Reagan defeated him in North Carolina, Ford
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fleetingly regained his political equilibrium when Reagan conceded the 199 delegates in New York and Wisconsin in order to concentrate on preparing a thirty-minute, nationally televised fund-raising appeal. Accordingly, on April 6, Ford led in delegates by a 3-to-1 margin. Reagan’s speech, though, was stunningly successful. He raised $1.5 million, and lambasted the administration for, among other things, its feeble foreign policy. On April 27, Reagan won in Texas. Next, he swept through Alabama, Georgia, Indiana and Nebraska. Ford was vic- torious in West Virginia, Maryland and his home state of Michigan. Yet, on May 18, Reagan had 528 delegates to Ford’s 479. The presi- dent stepped up his campaigning. By mid-June, he had recaptured the lead —992 delegates to Reagan’s 886.
Fisher, trying to persuade leaders of the American Jewish commu- nity to campaign for Ford, brought a thirty-member delegation to talk with the president on June 24. Two-thirds of those who attended were Democrats and erstwhile supporters of Senator Henry Jackson’s un- successful bid for the Democratic presidential nomination. At 5 p.m., the group gathered in the Roosevelt Room. The president spoke gen- erally about the economy and foreign affairs. Questions focused on Israel and Soviet Jewry. Ford was especially emphatic on the Middle East, stating that the security of Israel was both a moral commitment and a “linchpin of American foreign policy.” Regarding the Russian Jews, Ford said that he would do everything possible to encourage the Kremlin to permit free emigration.
Although the president had previously covered similar ground with Jewish leaders, Fisher thought that Ford was unusually persuasive be- cause the animosity of the reassessment had dissipated and he felt free to express the true range of his sympathy for Israel. The session lasted for nearly two hours instead of the scheduled forty-five minutes. The delegation, Fisher thought, left the Roosevelt Room solidly behind the president; Ford’s performance, Fisher thought, had been “extraor- dinary.” Two days later, Fisher received some more good news. The White House and Congress had reached a compromise on transitional aid for Israel —$275 million.
On July 2, Fisher was back in Washington talking with the president
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and secretary of state. With the reassessment finished, the atmosphere surrounding their conversation was calmer. Kissinger was kidding Fisher, asking him why he never called anymore. But the main topic of their talk was anything but lighthearted.
On June 27, Air France Flight 139 had departed from Tel Aviv with over 250 passengers. En route to Paris, two members of the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine (PFLP) and two West German “urban guerrillas” commandeered the airbus, forcing the pilot to land in Entebbe, Uganda, a country ruled by a sworn enemy of Israel, Idi Amin. The hijackers released all passengers, except for the Israelis and Jews. Then they demanded that the government of Israel free 40 con- victed terrorists in exchange for the more than 100 remaining hostages. Ford told Fisher that “the United States was doing everything to save the people who were hijacked,” but he wanted him to impress upon Prime Minister Rabin that the Israelis should not retaliate against the Palestine Liberation Organization for the hijacking. (The PFLP was formed by Marxist physician George Habash, a Christian Pales- tinian, who is a rival of Arafat within the PLO.) The president said that he did not want Israeli retribution to unite the Arabs. Kissinger took a different tack. He said that if Israel backed down it wouldn’t help their cause. But, the secretary added, this was not for him to decide. Kissing- er also said that the civil war in Lebanon was dividing the Arab world and sapping the PLO’s strength, which in the long run might bring about a measure of peace. Ford asked that Fisher raise one final point with Rabin —that he felt “quite touchy” about the settlements on the West Bank; because, Ford said, in the future they could undermine the Israeli position and create several complications. Fisher replied that a large portion of the leadership in the American Jewish community also had reservations about the settlements and that they were endeavoring to get this message across to Rabin and his Cabinet.
Following his talk with the president and secretary of state, Fish- er met with Dick Cheney to mull over the campaign reorganization. Fisher said that he hoped the PFC would “get somebody in there who made sense.” Cheney replied that they were interviewing two or three candidates. (James A. Baker III would eventually be chosen to direct
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Ford’s campaign.) Fisher suggested that Ford should establish an inde- pendent political structure, of which Fisher would be a member, so that he could bring in leaders from the American Jewish community, not as a Jewish group, but as part of Citizens for President Ford. Cheney said that Fisher should get it organized.
On July 3, the hostages were rescued by Israeli commandos in a night raid on Uganda, On July 15 —his sixty-eighth birthday, Fisher was vacationing in Greece, and by the time he returned to Detroit toward the end of July, the Democrats had nominated Jimmy Carter for the presidency and Senator Walter F. Mondale of Minnesota for vice president.
In mid-August, Fisher attended the Republican National Conven- tion as a delegate from Michigan. As he had done in 1972, Fisher saw to it that one evening a distinguished American Jewish leader (this time it was Rabbi Israel Miller) offered a benediction at the convention. The closeness of the race between Ford and Reagan notwithstand- ing, Fisher told a reporter from The Jerusalem Post that the president would win the nomination on the first ballot. The initial vote was neck and neck, and Ford defeated Reagan —1,187 to 1,070. Senator Robert Dole of Kansas was chosen for the vice- presidential spot on the ticket. Fisher was pleased that the convention hadn’t been torn apart by inter- necine bickering.
Ford’s first-ballot win, however, was a moot point as the campaign got under way. The president was trailing Carter in the polls by a huge margin. Gallup judged Carter’s lead to be 56 to 33; Harris estimated it at 61 to 32. Ford’s own pollster was projecting that the president could lose the election by 9,490,000 votes. There were seventy-three days until November 2, and, as Ford wrote in A Time to Heal, all he had to do to win “was convert 130,000 Carter supporters every day.”
Unlike 1968 and 1972, raising money for the general election was not Fisher’s chief concern. The bulk of the financing would come from public funds; Ford and Carter each received $21.8 million. Yet, since the polls were predicting the lowest voter turnout in a half-century, the Jewish vote was a prime target of the candidates, especially in the Northeast with its large representation in the Electoral College. Fisher
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set his sights on persuading Jewish leadership to back Ford. He ar- ranged for a strategy session at the Statler-Hilton Hotel in Washington for 150 influential Jewish supporters of the president. The meeting took place on September 20, with presentations by Chief of Staff Cheney and Ford’s campaign chairman, James Baker III.
After the session, a select leadership group went to the White House to meet with the president. Beforehand, Fisher met with Ford in the Oval Office to discuss the president’s planned remarks. Then they walked to the East Room. For twenty minutes, the president mingled with the guests. Finally, everyone was seated. Fisher introduced Ford, and the president launched into his speech. He concentrated on the U.S.-Israeli relationship, saying that America “must maintain our own freedom and that of our friends. I can tell you that when we number our friends, nowhere do we find a nation where our relations are closer or more cordial than with Israel. I intend to keep them that way.”
Ford, says Fisher, “is an honest, straightforward man,” and the best moments in the East Room were when he simply stated how he would deal with the anxieties of the community. The president said there will be no imposed peace agreements on the Middle East and no one-sided concessions. There would be substantial military and economic assis- tance to Israel, and strong action in support of the Israelis should the United Nations make any more “absurd attempts” to defame Israel’s people or to deprive the country of its rights. In addition, Ford said, the United States was committed to combat international terrorism and to freedom for Soviet Jews.
Fisher told The Jerusalem Post that he thought Ford’s speech would “turn the tide in convincing many of the still undecided Jewish leaders in coming out publicly on the president’s behalf.”
To zero in on the wider Jewish community, Fisher set up a press conference at the White House with Ford taking questions from jour- nalists of the American Jewish Press Association. The AJPA represent- ed sixty-five Jewish community newspapers, with a combined circula - tion of 800,000 in the United States and Canada. Afterward, Robert A. Cohn, president of the organization, wrote Fisher: “As I have indicated to you in the past, your assistance in arranging this news conference
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reflects your continued awareness of the importance of direct com - munication to the American Jewish community through its ethnic and religious media.”
It also reflected Fisher’s understanding that Jews in the United States, excluded from the WASP power structure for so long, needed to feel that a candidate was not blind to their needs in order to vote for him. The AJPA’s readership, consisting of hundreds of thousands of Jews outside the organized Jewish community, was the perfect forum for the president to reach out to this constituency.
Ford trailed Carter throughout the campaign. Because of the Nix- on pardon, the president had been operating under a handicap, but in the fall he suffered two other significant setbacks. The president was clinging to a three-percentage-point lead over Carter in California, and desperately wanted Reagan to campaign for him there as well as in the conservative Deep South. In early October, he made a campaign swing through California. In A Time to Heal, Ford recalled that Rea- gan’s speech to a GOP dinner “was disappointing,” and his comments about the president “were noticeably lukewarm.” Worst of all, wrote Ford, “during the rest of the campaign he refused to work directly for my election.”
Secondly, the president made a serious slip in one of his televised debates with Carter, stating: “There is no Soviet domination of Eastern Europe.” Carter was quick to capitalize, remarking: “I would like to see Mr. Ford convince the Polish-Americans and the Czech-Ameri- cans and the Hungarian-Americans in this country that those countries don’t live under the domination and supervision of the Soviet Union.” But Ford was an experienced campaigner. He kept at it, arguing that he did, unlike Carter, have a record to judge, and Americans should cast their ballot based on his record. He spoke of his curb on federal spend- ing, which appeared to touch voters around the country. On November I, the day prior to the election, the Gallup Poll showed the president pulling ahead of Carter 47 to 46.
Along with Bob Mosbacher and other members of the Ford cam- paign team, Fisher waited for the election results in a Washington ho- tel. (Neither he nor Mosbacher can recollect which one.) Everything
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had been arranged for a victory party. The early returns showed Carter, as anticipated, sweeping the Deep South. But the race was tight. Fish- er believed that he had helped to make some inroads for Ford in the Jewish community. He felt that the president’s share of the Jewish vote would range between 35 and 40 percent, and that percentage would pay off later in the evening. For a while, Fisher’s belief seemed ac- curate. By midnight, Ford clung to a narrow lead in New York. But at one-twenty, after the votes from NewYork City rolled in, the networks were declaring Carter the winner in New York. The president was also losing in Pennsylvania and Texas. Although Ford did not phone Carter to concede the election until late Wednesday morning, at approximate- ly 2 a.m. Fisher said to Mosbacher: “It’s over.”
Fisher describes the realization that Ford had lost “as the most dis- appointing moment in my life.” It would be small consolation that Lou Harris would estimate that Ford had won 45 percent of the Jewish vote. (CBS claimed it was 32 percent; Fisher says it was probably closer to 40.) Nor did it matter that shortly after the election, Ronald I. Rubin, writing in New York magazine, observed that the 1976 election proved that for Jews “it’s no longer trayf [unkosher] to vote Republican.” Of one thing Fisher was certain: from January 1977 until January 1981, he would not be participating in any Oval Office conversations with the president.
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One afternoon, in the late winter of 1975, Marjorie Fisher walked into David Webb jewelers in palm Beach and purchased a pair of diamond earrings. The saleswoman, teasing Marjorie, asked: “Does Mr. Fisher have a new mistress?”
“No,” Marjorie replied. “Mr. Fisher has a new stock.”
The new stock was United Brands Co. For many years, Fisher had owned 73,000 shares of the United Fruit Company, the venerable Bos- ton banana firm. But in 1970, Eli M. Black, a brilliant forty-eight-year- old conglomerateur, merged his AMK Incorporated with the United Fruit Company and renamed it United Brands Co. Aside from pro-
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ducing and marketing bananas under the Chiquita, Fyffes and Amigo names, the $2 billion multinational United Brands operated John Mor- rell & Co., the fourth largest meat packer in the United States; A&W International, a fast-food restaurant chain; Inter-Harvest, a producer of fresh vegetables; and J. Hungerford Smith, a supplier of ice-cream toppings and flavoring.
According to The Wall Street Journal, Black, an ordained rabbi and active philanthropist, had “tried to combine his business with [his] so- cial conscience.” Black negotiated personally on behalf of the com- pany’s lettuce subsidiary with Cesar Chavez’s United Farm Workers Union, becoming the first and only major lettuce grower to sign with the union. He was also dedicated to eradicating the historical percep- tion of United Fruit as a Yankee exploiter. In Central America, the cor- poration provided free housing and electricity to its employees, and its agricultural workers earned approximately six times the wages that other companies paid. In 1972, The Boston Globe opined that United Brands “may well be the most socially conscious American company in the hemisphere.”
In 1974, United Brands sustained several blows. In August, the gov- ernments of Panama, Costa Rica and Honduras instituted banana taxes to offset the higher fuel costs caused by the Arab oil embargo. During September, Hurricane Fifi ripped through Central America, causing $20 million in damage to United Brands’ crops and facilities. Reeling from this loss and high cattle-feed costs in its John Morrell division, United Brands’ losses in 1974 surpassed $43 million.
At eight o’clock in the morning on February 3, 1975, Eli Black was picked up at his New York City apartment by his chauffeur and driven to United Brands’ corporate headquarters in the Pan Am Building. Af- ter entering his office on the forty-fourth floor, Black, using his brief - case, smashed a hole in a window and jumped to his death. The stress of corporate life was cited as the reason for his suicide.
With Black’s death and the financial reverses, the United Brands board of directors split into warring factions. Fisher, as one of the larg- est stockholders in the company and with the reputation of a conciliator, was asked to join the board. OnApril 2, he accepted. Within a week, it
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became partially clearer why Eli Black, who had prided himself on his capacity to succeed in business without forfeiting his moral principles, had been so depressed. On April 8, United Brands admitted that in 1974 it had paid a $1.25-million bribe to General Oswaldo Lopez, the former president of Honduras, to lower the country’s banana tax. The company also admitted that over the past five years it had paid bribes totaling $750,000 to officials of a European country (rumored to be Italy). Following the disclosure of these payoffs, United Brands faced stockholder suits, and investigations by the Securities and Exchange Commission, the U.S. attorney’s office and a Senate subcommittee. On May 12, the understandably troubled United Brands’ board of directors convened in Boston. As Fisher recalled for The Wall Street Journal: “My long suit is bringing people together. If you have that ability and can help a bad situation, you can’t turn your back.... [At the board meeting], I opened my mouth and both sides asked me to be acting chairman.”
The national business and investment community was surprised that Fisher, who was two months away from his sixty-seventh birthday, agreed to tackle such a hopeless task. United Brands had dropped to five dollars a share, and the pending legal actions against the conglom - erate promised to be an ordeal.
Looking back, Fisher explains his reasoning: “I took the chairman- ship because of ego. I wanted to see if I could still run a big corporation.” Additionally, Fisher was in the process of upping his original 73,000-share stake in United Brands to over 600,000 shares, more than 5 percent of the company.
Upon filling the chairman’s post, the board elected Wallace W. Booth president and chief executive officer. An experienced executive, Booth had been a senior vice president at Rockwell International Corp. for the previous two-and-a-half years.
United Brands’ reputation was so tarnished that just the election of Fisher and Booth to their posts improved the value of the stock by 13 percent. In August, Fisher was officially designated chairman of the board. Soon after, Fisher, along with seventeen officers of United Brands and three partners of its accounting firm, Price Waterhouse &
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Co., were subpoenaed by the Securities and Exchange Commission to give sworn statements regarding the $1.25-million bribe paid to General Lopez. The SEC’s suit against United Brands charged that the company had violated securities laws by failing to disclose the bribe. The commission was seeking a court order forbidding management from making false statements to its shareholders in the future. Initially, due to the investigation, Fisher was unable to address Unit- ed Brands’ immediate business concerns. Instead, he sifted through paperwork and headed an investigating committee that was delving into the foreign payments. He testified before the SEC, and by January 27, 1976, the suit was settled. In New York City, U.S. District Judge Thomas Flannery signed a consent order barring the company from violating the antifraud provisions of federal securities law.
The Wall Street Journal judged the United Brands order “unusual.” The decree was the first to prohibit a company from future antifraud vi - olations in connection with foreign payoffs. It required United Brands to disclose any “unlawful payment” of corporate funds to foreign gov- ernments —a measure one SEC lawyer described as the “belt and sus- penders approach,” since the injunction barred such payments. Finally, the order granted the SEC permanent access to United Brands’ books and records. SEC officials indicated to the press that the injunction was also designed to deter other companies from bribing foreign officials. With the SEC ruling behind him (and Ford’s campaign for the pres- idency finished), Fisher spent the winter of 1976-1977 checking on the far-flung operations of United Brands. He asked his friends, Seymour and Paul Milstein, to give him a hand. The Milstein brothers, partners in Manhattan-based construction and building-management firms, owned 958,000 shares of United Brands —8.8 percent of the common stock. Seymour Milstein had joined the board of directors in April 1975 right after Fisher, and in August, he had been named its vice chairman.
For Fisher, touring the corporation’s facilities reminded him of his beginnings at Aurora, stopping to talk with the rank and file, asking questions and listening to their suggestions. He and Paul Milstein flew to Sioux Falls, South Dakota, to look in at John Morrell Co. Fisher was talking to one of the managers, sampling uncooked hot dogs and at-
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tempting to convince Milstein to try one. When Milstein refused, Fish- er said: “You don’t have to live in a meat plant. But you are in charge of the food division.” Gingerly, Milstein ate a piece of a hot dog. Fisher devoted most of his energies to the corporate hierarchy. As was his practice at Aurora, and in his philanthropic and political en- deavors, he phoned executives at all times of the day and questioned them about details of their reports. In the process, Fisher earned his share of critics — one of them telling The Wall Street Journal: “It’s easy to tell the coach how to manage the team from the sidelines and save $100,000 on a minor issue, but [Fisher] doesn’t comprehend how a professional manager manages a multinational” with company-wide systematic controls.
However, Fisher felt that “you have to pay attention to details in a business ... where profit hinges on the weather and rapid changes in commodity prices. Sure I [called] my executives, and I [didn’t] talk to them about their golf games.”
By mid-January 1977, Fisher continued to be dissatisfied with the corporate environment at United Brands. He invited Seymour Milstein to Palm Beach and asked him to bring his wife, Vivian. When the Mil- steins arrived, they socialized by the pool with the Fishers, talking and looking out at Lake Worth from the deck. After lunch, Fisher said to Seymour: “You and Paul have got a bigger stake in United Brands than I do. I think you ought to go back to work.”
Milstein had toured the operations across the United States and in Central America, reporting his findings to Wallace Booth. So he did not quite comprehend what Fisher meant about him getting back to work. He said: “Max, what do you mean? I am working.”
Fisher answered: “No, not just traveling around. You’ve got a big stake here. We’re near the bottom, and things could get worse before they get better. This company’s not being managed. Most of the people are discouraged in Boston. They get to the office late and they’re gone by four or four-thirty. I think in our and the shareholders’ interest — as well as the management that stayed on after Eli’s suicide —you have to get more involved in the daily operations. You should replace Booth and spend your time up at headquarters in Boston.”
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Now, Milstein understood why Fisher had asked him to bring Vivi- an to Palm Beach. If Milstein accepted the proposal, then he would be spending the majority of his week in Boston. Fisher wanted Vivian to be aware of the time commitment her husband was making.
Fisher expanded on why he thought Milstein should run United Brands. He mentioned that Booth seemed more enamored of numbers than operations. This, said Fisher, not only had an adverse effect on earnings, it could be disastrous in light of the SEC ruling — if new bribes were paid out, then somebody was going to go to jail.
Though reluctant to take the job of president and CEO, Milstein says: “Max persuaded me because, when all was said and done, his logic was better than mine.”
Once Milstein accepted (and Vivian agreed with her husband’s de- cision), Fisher phoned the other directors of United Brands and told them what he had in mind. They quickly agreed. Explains Milstein: “Remember, this is 1977, and by then Max was held in very high es- teem by the directors. He did a great job of organizing. He had brought harmony to the board. He had gotten rid of the directors who were looking for trouble for trouble’s sake.”
When he finished speaking with the other board members, Fisher said to Milstein: “Come on, let’s go talk to Wally Booth.”
The two men flew to Boston. Milstein remembers: “Max said to Booth, ‘Wally, you’re a fine gentleman. But I don’t think we’re getting along. You’re not happy with me being involved. And I’m not happy with how you run things. The Milsteins and I have got too much mon- ey at stake. Let’s work out a deal. Arrange it so economically you’ll be well taken care of.’”
On January 31, 1977, The Wall Street Journal announced that Booth was resigning from United Brands, and Seymour Milstein was replac- ing him. In a telephone interview, Booth told the newspaper that he had a friendly difference of opinion” over management style with Fisher, which convinced him that it was “the better part of valor for me to step aside and let Seymour take over.”
For most of 1977, Milstein lived in a room at Boston’s Ritz-Carlton Hotel for five days a week. United Brands, he saw, was still disorganized.
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“There was a lot of uncertainty,” says Milstein, “and people were depressed. All the heads of the divisions were battling with each other and pursuing their own agendas. I discussed it with Max and deter- mined that if United Brands remained in Boston, then things wouldn’t noticeably improve — the company would never overcome its in- grained habits. Leaving the office early, for example. Not being avail - able to our West Coast operations. The marketing and sales people were always in Manhattan because a lot of our overseas customers wouldn’t even go to Boston. Many of them hadn’t been up to Boston in five years. As a result, United Brands was losing market share. We had a study done by consultants. They concluded that if we wanted to change the psyche of the company, we should relocate to New York. So the board voted for United Brands to move.”
Numerous executives complained about the move, saying that the only reason United Brands was going to New York City was “because senior management wants to live there.”
Fisher expected the complaints. He answered his critics by telling them that he lived in Detroit, and had every intention of staying there. In truth, Fisher was not sorry to lose many of the executives who re- fused to relocate —in his opinion, they had been a big part the com- pany’s problems.
By the spring of 1978, Fisher had enough corporate adventure. Op- erations were running more smoothly, and the stock price had climbed. In 1974, the year before he accepted the chairmanship, the corporation suffered a net loss of $4.25 a share. In 1975, United Brands gained 80 cents a share; in 1976, $1.28 a share; in 1977, 50 cents a share, and in the first quarter of 1978, 36 cents a share.
On May 17, 1978, at the annual meeting of United Brands’ stock- holders in Cincinnati, Fisher announced that he would be retiring as chairman of the board of directors. Seymour Milstein succeeded him, and Paul Milstein, who had been vice chairman, took over as president and chief operating officer. Fisher remained on the board, with the title of honorary chairman.
Fisher had always known that his stint at United Brands was a mo- mentary interlude, an irresistible last chance for him to relive his years
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running Aurora. He had proved to himself that he could still lead a corporation. Yet his heart was elsewhere. Business, he learned, had be- come an avocation; only philanthropy and politics fully engaged him. He had suspected as much in the early 1970s. After heading United Brands, he was sure of it. Since the 1967 summer riots, he had imag- ined various ways to help restore Detroit, and so it was that he focused his attention on matters closer to home.
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Chapter 17
RENAISSANCE MAN
MARJORIE FISHER REMEMBERS that in the late 1960s, Max and Henry Ford II occasionally played a game they called, “What can we do for Detroit?” It was a fantasy game, an urban-renewal Monopoly, based on the shimmering memories each man had of the city decades before, a city charged with money and power and plenty of overtime at the auto plants. Back then, lights were forever glittering downtown, bright as a necklace of harvest moons; the swanky Book-Cadillac Ho- tel was jammed; and Hudson’s department store was mobbed with shoppers. Lines formed outside Les Gruber’s London Chop House, while inside, framed caricatures of the great and near-great who came to dine covered the walls. At night, after a Tigers game or a show at the Fisher Theatre, the hip ermine-and-pearl clubs like the Flame Show Bar and the Chesterfield swelled with the jazz of Dinah Washington and Sarah Vaughan. And then there were those sultry summer Sun- days, the church bells silent by afternoon and city folks escaping to Belle Isle, crowding along the banks of the Detroit River or perched in canoes to enjoy the cool river breeze and the music floating up from the bandstand that rose above the Grand Canal.
In terms of Detroit, whether Max Fisher received as much as he in- vested —both financially and emotionally would remain a hotly con - tested question in the city for decades. But two things were certain: Detroit’s quandary would occupy — some say obsess — Fisher into the 1990s. And because of his obsession, the city skyline, and perhaps the city itself, would never be the same.
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The story of the Detroit Renaissance begins in the spring of 1970. Dwight Havens, president of the Greater Detroit Chamber of Com- merce, was trying to assemble a collection of business leaders to stem Detroit’s spreading social and economic woes. Although a variety of corporate fathers told Havens that they liked his idea, securing commit- ments from them was another matter. Fisher had served on the board of the chamber, but he had gone to Washington to head Nixon’s program on volunteerism and to help George Romney staff HUD.
Then, Havens says, “we got some good news, Max resigned from his post in Washington [in April] and I called him immediately and asked if I could come talk with him.” They met at Fisher’s house in a series of Saturday morning meetings. Havens remembers: “We talked about what Detroit needed. We had no notion what the program would include. We agreed on the membership and then Max finally said that he would be the chairman if Henry Ford and Bob [Robert M.] Surdam [president of the National Bank of Detroit] would be his co-chairmen.” Fisher had already headed New Detroit. (On January 12„ 1970, af- ter serving for seventeen months as chairman of NDI, Fisher stepped down and was replaced by William M. Day, CEO of Michigan Bell Telephone Company.) New Detroit was a broad coalition from every segment of the community. Despite its $10-million fund, which was raised by Fisher, and according to him, was “to help resolve some of [metropolitan Detroit’s] social problems,” NDI was more of a forum for expressing ideas and, Fisher believes, for venting anger —on the part of blacks and whites —after the cataclysm of the riots. New De- troit had its niche, Fisher thought, but this new group, which would shortly be named Detroit Renaissance, appealed directly to his emo- tional need to attack complex problems by doing something concrete, by making the wheels turn, galvanizing his power-laced network of politicians and businessmen.
Havens was able to recruit Robert Surdam for one co-chairmanship, but though he knew Henry Ford agreed in principle with the projected aims of Detroit Renaissance, Havens could not pin him down on ac- cepting the other co-chair slot.
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One Friday in July, Havens got a call from Fisher. “Dwight,” Fisher said, “why not let me talk to Henry about the co-chairmanship” Havens was glad to have the help. On Saturday evening, while the Fishers attended a party at the Fords, Max spoke to Henry, who agreed to co-chair the effort.
The final planning meeting was scheduled for 10 a.m., on Novem - ber 20, 1970, at the headquarters of the Greater Detroit Chamber of Commerce. Fisher had hoped all of the automotive companies would be represented, but James M. Roche, chairman of General Motors, was unable to attend. Fisher, however, had obtained Roche’s commitment at approximately 8:30 that same day, when he and Havens went over to visit him at his office.
“Max,” Havens says, “came right to the point with Roche. He said: ‘We want you involved, Jim, and we want General Motors involved. We want a commitment from you —your time and your talent. And we want a commitment from General Motors, that the company will give us the resources we need, people, money, whatever. We’re going to put this thing together to stimulate some economic growth in Detroit. And you need to be aboard.’ Roche replied that he would go along with it if everybody else went along.”
Later that morning, twenty-three executives filed into the chamber of commerce conference room, among them officials from the auto companies, banks and utilities, and retailers like Joseph Hudson Jr., along with Mayor Roman Gribbs of Detroit and Governor William Milliken of Michigan. Detroit Renaissance, Inc., a nonprofit corpora - tion funded by the leaders and leading companies of Detroit’s business community, was founded.
Havens provided everyone in the conference room with background information and explained the mechanics of how Detroit Renaissance would function. When he finished, Fisher stood to address the group. “Max was beautiful,” recalls Havens. “I wish I had it on tape. He said: ‘I want to hear that you will commit yourself and your company to what we are going to do. I owe Detroit something because Detroit has been good to me and I want to put something back. And Detroit has been good to you and your companies and you have an obligation
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to put something back. So let’s bring this together now and form an organization that will have the strength to do what Detroit needs.’” Detroit Renaissance had a more formal coming-out the following spring, on March 29, 1971, when Fisher addressed the Economic Club of Detroit. Fisher began by chastising the national media for declaring that “Detroit is dying.” He admitted that Detroit did have “the same bitter difficulties that face almost every major American city: unem - ployment, crime, poverty, drugs,” and that it had lost a sizable portion of its population to the suburbs. “But this is a community,” he said, “that still has great leaders [who] call Detroit their home —and mean it. And our United Foundation, supported by people who have gone to the suburbs, still remains the greatest community chest in the country.” Fisher proceeded to define the goals of Detroit Renaissance as “an attempt to put all of Detroit’s great economic assets together,” say- ing that it represented “the idea that Detroit can revitalize itself eco- nomically.” The speech was Fisher’s customary inspirational fare. The thrust did not come until the conclusion, when he introduced the direc- tors of Detroit Renaissance in the audience, a list that would have been impressive as a national body, but was astonishing as a civic organiza- tion. Apartial roll call included (after Fisher, Ford and Surdam), Virgil E. Boyd, vice chairman of Chrysler; Roy D. Chapin Jr., chairman of American Motors; Walker L. Cisler, chairman of Detroit Edison; Har- ry B. Cunningham, chairman of the S.S. Kresge Company; Ray W. Macdonald, president of Burroughs Corporation; Roland A. Mewhort, chairman of Manufacturers National Bank; Raymond T. Perring, chair- man of Detroit Bank and Trust Company; Alan Schwartz, a partner in the law firm of Honigman, Miller, Schwartz & Cohn; Al Taubman, chairman of the Taubman Company; and Kenneth J. Whalen, president of Michigan Bell.
On that March afternoon at the Economic Club, Fisher was unsure what course Detroit Renaissance should follow. Yet, for the moment, he was satisfied. The true strength of the coalition, Fisher realized, was its medley of power brokers, their influence circulating through every capillary of city commerce. There was nothing they could not accomplish in Detroit — if they would stick with it. Fisher pledged
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