Spiro Agnew Looks for a Good Time

The Roman Restaurant was as empty as political rhetoric. At first we thought Passetto's dining room was closed, but by Italian standards, we were simply too early for dinner. It was 8:30 P.M., a June evening in 1975. The maître de seated us at the end of a long row of deserted tables. When a man in a tuxedo finally condescended to take our order, we asked for two veal dishes that came after a long wait. We two barbarous early diners were hungrily sacking our table when another customer entered to help dispel the loneliness. Naturally, at that hour, he was another American.

Lesley Stahl, my dinner companion, announced: "As I live and breathe, it's Spiro T. Agnew."

Agnew was alone. With a restaurant of empty tables to choose from, the maître de seated the former Vice-President at the table next to ours. Lesley and I started to giggle. Ever since Spiro Agnew had resigned the Vice-Presidency 20 months earlier, every reporter in Washington had been looking for him. And here we were, sitting by sheer accident at his well-tailored elbow. I challenged Lesley to speak to him.

Lesley replied, "You say something."

I said, "You're more aggressive; you say something."

Grown-up, intrepid journalists both, we were afraid to say anything. Here was a man who made a career of attacking the press and who was certainly sick of being pursued by the press. We could not bring ourselves to ruin the evening of a ruined man. We resigned ourselves to returning home to tell our friends we had had dinner with Agnew--then admitting he had been at the next table and we hadn't said a word.

"You're Americans, aren't you?" Agnew asked suddenly.

"It's worse than that," Lesley said.

"What do you mean?" Agnew wanted to know.

"We're reporters," she explained. "But it's even worse than that."

"What could be worse than that?" he asked.

"I work for CBS," she admitted.

I started to tell Agnew that I worked for New York magazine, a liberal bastion, but I was drowned out by his laughter. He could not believe he had come all the way to Rome to sit next to Lesley Stahl of CBS, the network that was his particular nemesis during his Washington years. He was on his way to Saudi Arabia on business.

"Well, Aaron, what's your background?" Agnew asked.

"I was born and grew up in Texas," I said. I was flattered by his interest.

"Aaron, what's your family background?"

"My father used to be a high school football coach," I said. "The family's lived in Texas for years."

"But what's your background?"

I gave him my whole curriculum vitae. Undergraduate at Amherst College. Grad school at Princeton. I was amazed that he wanted to know so much about me.

Exasperated, Agnew asked, "Aaron, what's your religion?"

"I was brought up a Methodist," I said. Agnew looked relieved.

Turning to Lesley, he said, "You may not believe this, but some of my best friends aren't Jews."

We sat there wondering whether he was trying to be funny, serious or both. We could not think of anything to say. We later heard that Agnew often uses that line in Arab countries where he goes to do business. He reportedly points out that many of those who gave evidence against him, as well as those who prosecuted him, were Jewish.

He tells the Arabs he knows how they feel.

Not knowing any of this, Lesley and I were simply puzzled. We turned to less sensitive topics. Agnew said he would never regret having been Vice-President of the United States, because it had given him a chance to meet so many world leaders, many of whom he had studied when he was in school. Lesley asked how the older generation of world leaders had treated him as a member of the younger generation. He said that the older leaders had been through those largely ceremonial meetings so many times that they often seemed half-asleep. He considered it a challenge to wake them up and make them remember which American Vice-President he was. I searched my memory for the oldest leader I could think of. Then I asked him how he had tried to get the attention of a man like Haile Selassie of Ethiopia.

Agnew's eyes sparkled and he said, "I told him I had a great admiration for the Italians."

We liked Spiro Agnew at that moment as much as we would ever like him. The evening had a curve to it, beginning with a poised Agnew with a sense of humor and sloping to an Agnew possessed of self-pity. We went downhill literally, ending up, appropriately, underground.

In the beginning, Lesley and I were being careful with the former Vice-President. Afraid tough questions might frighten him off, we led the conversation down a banal path. I said I was in Rome researching a novel; he said he was writing a novel, too, so we compared experiences.

He said that by then he had written about 250 pages and really knew his characters. I said I kept forgetting my characters' names. I asked which novelists he read and admired. He said his favorite was James Michener. I thought: I might have known. I told him that Lesley was reading my novel as I wrote and asked if his wife did the same. He said, no, he wouldn't let her, because the Vice-President in his story had an affair with a member of the Cabinet.

An Italian woman in black pants as tight as an olive's skin passed in front of us. She was so beautiful she momentarily stopped conversation. Agnew broke the silence by saying he couldn't stand women in pants. He couldn't see what Lesley was wearing. Pants.

Lesley and I shied away from political questions the way one avoids mentioning sight around blind people. But our artsy-craftsy talk about the novel business eventually bored him. A curious role reversal developed: He became the reporter and we became the elusive politicians. Agnew started interviewing New York and CBS.

"Who do you think the Democratic Presidential nominee will be?" the former Vice-President asked, looking ahead one year to the 1976 convention.

We waffled.

"It might be Teddy Kennedy," I said. "On the other hand, it might be somebody else. It's too early to tell."

Agnew said, "I think Lloyd Bentsen will be the next President of the United States."

We naturally asked how he had come to that conclusion. He said the so-called Silent Majority wanted to vote for a conservative, but they didn't want to vote for a Republican. We asked: Why not?

"Because they feel they were betrayed by Nixon and Agnew," said Agnew.

As it turned out, of course, Agnew had the right idea but the wrong candidate. The American people were ready for a Democrat with a conservative image. Agnew's only problem was that he knew who Lloyd Bentsen was. The former Vice-President, who was once headlined as Spiro Who, had very likely never 'heard of Jimmy Who.

"What do you think of Kissinger?" Agnew asked, continuing the interview.

I said, "On the one hand, he's very smart. On the other hand, Vietnam didn't work out very well. Still, he can be very funny...."

Agnew said, "I think he's a disaster."

The former Vice-President said that Kissinger used his academic credentials to pass himself off as an intellectual--but he really wasn't one. Agnew complained that Kissinger had no over-all plan but just dealt with each crisis as it came along, like a fire fighter.

Another American--naturally, at that hour--came into the restaurant. He came over and shook Agnew's hand. Lesley said she supposed that must happen to him a lot. Agnew said it did. Lesley said people respected him because he resigned when he got into trouble, whereas Nixon put the country through a terrible ordeal by trying to hang on to power for so long.

Agnew said, "Nixon's a bastard."

He did not elaborate.

Lesley and I finished our main course and Agnew insisted on buying us cappuccinos. We reflexively declined. He accused us of not trusting him. Rather than admit to not trusting the least trustworthy Vice-President in American history, we accepted his largess. Agnew told the waiter to bring us some good cappuccino and, if the restaurant didn't have any, to send out for some.

The former Vice-President said he had been in Rome all day but had seen none of the city. He asked us to show it to him. Agnew said he wanted to see Rome because he was on his way to Riyadh, "where they roll up the sidewalks at four P.M. and all the women wear veils." We agreed to a tour.

Agnew skipped dessert and coffee in order to finish his meal at the same time we finished ours. We walked to the door with a man who had been complaining all evening about how poor he was, who claimed he had not brought his wife along on this trip because he couldn't afford it, who said he had "never planned to work this hard at this age." Stepping out of the restaurant, we were confronted with a limousine built on the scale of Cleopatra's barge.

"Well, in Riyadh they roll up the sidewalks at four P.M.," Agnew said.

"Where'll we go?"

"Piazza Navona," we said. It was our favorite piazza in all Rome. We loved the church and the fountain.

Agnew told us to tell the driver, Carlos, where to go.

"Carlos, take us to Piazza Navona," we said knowingly.

Carlos stepped on the gas; the long car pulled ahead 100 feet and stopped.

"What's the matter?" I asked.

"You're there," Carlos announced.

We had eaten dinner across the street from the Piazza Navona. Now Agnewknew he was in the hands of competent guides.

Leading the former Vice-President into the piazza, we explained to him that those two Baroque giants, Bernini and Borromini, had fought it out architecturally in the square. Bernini got his licks in first by building a fountain adorned with a figure who covered his face in anticipation of confronting the yet-to-be-built Borromini church. Then Borromini got in his licks. He constructed a beautiful domed....

We never finished the story. Agnew was bored. This charming piazza was not exactly what he had in mind when he asked us to show him Rome. This moment was a turning point for us. We liked Agnew less for not liking our piazza.

As we were leaving the square, I tried to think of a topic of conversation that might interest the former Vice-President. I finally asked him if he had been in Riyadh since King Faisal died. He said he hadn't and so was anxious to see how much had changed. I asked him what he thought of the new leaders of Saudi Arabia. Agnew said he had serious misgivings, because the new king was a sick man and the crown prince was corrupt. There was an embarrassing silence.

"It may sound funny to hear Agnew talk about corruption," he said at last, "but I think the crown prince is a dangerously corrupt man."

Lesley, who felt a need to be nice to this wounded man, said she imagined he dwelled upon the accusations made against him more than other people did.

"I think about corruption all the time," Agnew said. "I wake up at four o'clock in the morning in a cold sweat thinking about corruption."

We left the Piazza Navona and returned to poor Agnew's rich car.

"Well, in Riyadh they roll up the sidewalks at four o'clock and all the women wear veils," the former Vice-President said. "Where'll we go now?"

"Saint Peter's," we said.

At least the Pope's church was more than a block away. When we arrived, we walked around the huge square, telling the former Vice-President all about the fountains. He was bored. This wasn't what he had in mind, either. Carlos pointed to a lighted window in the Vatican Palace and said, "The Pope is still awake." And at that very moment, the light went out. Even Agnew, who had once met world leaders face to face but was now on the outside looking in like the rest of us, seemed amazed.

We got back in the long black limousine.

"Well, in Riyadh all the women wear veils," Agnew said. "Where to now?"

"The Colosseum," replied his guides.

On the drive over, Lesley asked Agnew (concluded on page 128)Spiro Agnew(continued from page 108) how he thought Nelson Rockefeller was doing in Agnew's old job. The former Vice-President said he had only one complaint: Right after he resigned, Agnew had approached Rockefeller to ask his help in securing a foundation grant for a legal study he wanted to undertake. What subject did he want to look into at the expense of the Rockefeller family? One very dear to his heart, one on which he was already something of an expert: plea bargaining.

Agnew said he thought prosecutors abused their powers when they resorted to offers of immunity to put pressure on witnesses. He told us that using plea bargaining to get dope pushers was all right, but using it against politicians was a crime. He called the practice a form of "corruption." Supported by a Rockefeller grant, Agnew had hoped to become a well-paid expert on this type of corruption.

Rockefeller got in touch with him and said the foundation's board members were concerned about funding Agnew. There wouldn't be any grant. That was bad enough, according to Agnew, but even worse was the disclosure made at Rockefeller's confirmation hearings. Rocky told the Senators that Agnew had come to him with a request for money. Agnew thought Rockefeller made it sound as if he were looking for a handout. Driving along the Tiber, Agnew complained about how the press had played up the story. Lesley and I both said we hadn't read, seen or heard anything about it. Agnew seemed disappointed.

When we got to the Colosseum, we drove around it but didn't stop. This wasn't quite what Agnew had in mind, either. Despairing that Lesley and I would never catch on to his hints about all the women in Riyadh wearing veils, the former Vice-President took charge of the tour.

"Carlos, we'd like something to drink," he said.

Driving toward refreshment, Agnew finally showed an interest in Rome's ancient heritage. Lesley and I had been asking Carlos tourist questions all evening, but the former Vice-President had remained dumb. Now, at last, he asked his first question:

"What do you know about Caligula's horse? The Washington Post once compared me to him."

Carlos pleaded ignorance. Lesley diplomatically said nothing. I, on the other hand, rushed in to tell him that Caligula had appointed his horse consul. Then I remembered the context of The Washington Post comparison: When Nixon named Agnew his Vice-Presidential candidate, the paper compared the choice of running mate to Caligula's choice of consul--implying an insult to the nation. Lesley later upbraided me for that one.

We drove up Via Veneto and stopped in front of a charming sidewalk café.

Agnew said, "This isn't what I had in mind."

Carlos stepped on the gas, turned a couple of corners and halted in front of the Jicky Club at the foot of the Via Veneto. We walked down a flight of stairs that twisted and turned as they led us deeper and deeper into the ground, like entering die catacombs. On the way down, we passed the door to the men's room.

"Due to my age and infirmity, I have to stop here," said Agnew.

Lesley and I finished our descent alone. At the bottom of the stairs, we found an incredibly seedy bar with loud music and a mirror ball with a spotlight on it. Looking around, we were embarrassed for Agnew: Imagine how he would feel when he discovered what sort of dive he had led us into! The maître de tried to lead us to a table up front near the stage. We insisted on being seated in a dark corner as far away from the stage as possible. A few minutes later, we saw the former Vice-President of the United States stumbling around in front of the stage, looking for us.

As I led him to our distant table, Agnew said, "It's OK. We'll move up when the show starts."

In the dark corner, the former Vice-President opened up a new theme: how many big people still treated him the same, in spite of his "trauma." The big people included Milton Berle, Frank Sinatra and the late King Faisal.

Agnew said he had visited Faisal officially when he was Vice-President. He wanted to take the oil monarch a present, but choosing one was a terrible problem.

"What do you get a king?" Agnew asked.

At last, he chose a book of contemporary American art, which he apprehensively presented to Faisal. While he was talking to the king, he slowly realized that the old ruler was not paying any attention to him. But this time it was not because Agnew was just another interchangeable American Vice-President. Rather, the ancient desert monarch was lost deep in the bizarre labyrinth of the modern American art world. He was like an American kid discovering camels.

After his resignation, Agnew had returned to Riyadh on business. A limousine met him and drove him to the guest palace. Agnew told Faisal that he was no longer in office, that this was not an official visit and that he should therefore stay at a hotel. Faisal would not hear of it. The king said, "You are our friend and that does not change." Agnew said that the only favor he sought was permission to call upon some of Faisal's ministers. The king said that permission was denied. "You will not call on my ministers," Faisal ordered. "My ministers will call on you." Spiro Agnew held profitable court in the guest palace.

Frank Sinatra, the monarch of the Palm Springs desert, also treated Agnew as if he were still in office. The former Vice-President told us that the guesthouse in the Sinatra compound was still called the Agnew House, in spite of everything.

Up on stage, a female vocalist started singing Sinatra's hit My Way. Agnew asked me if I weren't offended to hear a woman sing that song. I said no.

After the vocalist stopped singing, she was replaced by a Sinatra album. Agnew went on and on about what a great singer and a great friend Sinatra was.

Then the music changed and a woman came on stage and started dancing. In the middle of one of Agnew's stories echoing with self-pity, Lesley announced:

"I don't want to interrupt, but do you realize there's a striptease show going on?"

She might just as well have said, Eyes right, for Agnew immediately turned toward the stage. And he almost never looked back. The show reminded the former Vice-President of the ones he used to see at the old Gayety Theater in Baltimore. He recalled that he was 13 years old when he started going to the Gayety to stare up at the naked ladies. He said the Roman strippers were better looking than the Baltimore strippers.

Another woman came on stage and took her clothes off. Her act involved a round table on which she rotated like a Lazy Susan. As Agnew watched her turn, he complained once more that there would be no night life in Riyadh.

At 1:30 A.M., Lesley and I said we had to go. I paid the bill, which came to 20,000 lire-or about $34-for four Scotches and a Coke.

As we were getting up to leave, Agnew said, "Before you go, I've got to dance with CBS."

And he did. Lesley and Spiro danced two slow dances, the strippers by then having vacated the dance floor to make room for amateurs.

Finally, we left Spiro Agnew sitting in die Jicky Club deep in the ancient Roman earth.

"The former Vice-President of the United States was stumbling around in front of the stage."