The Confirmation Marathon

Confirmation of the President's appointees has been a prerogative of the Senate from the nation's beginning. In the vast majority of cases, the President gets his way--but often not before the Senate tweaks a few noses, publicly absolves itself of future misdeeds by the appointee and throws in a few surprises. Last week the Senate looked over Richard Nixon's appointees at close range, performing its usual quota of tweaking as well as offering its own surprises.

Somewhat more than tweaks were directed at Alaska Governor Walter J. Hickel, who was once described by a former member of his administration as a man who "only opens his mouth to change feet." Seeking confirmation as Nixon's Secretary of the Interior, Hickel carefully stifled his celebrated whip-snapping temper and larded his answers with such Capitol Hill bromides as "the Congress in its wisdom." Once he even referred to "its wise wisdom."

All the politeness, though, did not prevent most of the 18 Senators on hand from quizzing Hickel closely about some of his ill-considered statements about conservation (TIME, Jan. 17). In explaining what he meant by saying there was no merit in "conservation for conservation's sake," Hickel said that he had been thinking of the "millions and millions of board feet of timber rotting in Alaska." When he said that stringent water-pollution standards would hinder industry, he was again thinking of Alaska and its abundance of clear rivers. In fact, admitted Hickel, many of his statements--notably his remark that he could do more for Alaskans in Washington than in Juneau--were meant strictly for local consumption.

Sitting alone at an 18-foot table in the crowded chamber, Hickel fielded a barrage of questions about his policies during two years as Governor. Why had he taken it upon himself to block a Japanese freezer ship from buying fish from a struggling Eskimo cooperative, thus forcing the Eskimos to sell the catch at lower prices to local private interests? The Senators said that he had overstepped his authority by unlawfully invoking an international agreement. "I just don't recollect," said Hickel. "It was a human error." (Last week the cooperative filed a $150,000 suit against Hickel for losses.)

Then there was the Interior Department's executive order holding in escrow 262 million acres of Alaskan land until Congress could settle century-old claims by Indians, Aleuts and Eskimos. That same land contains the largest untapped pool of oil in the U.S., and Hickel has been accused of trying to free it for exploration by oil companies. As Governor, Hickel successfully contested the federal order, which is now before an appeals court. Last week he agreed that as Secretary he would confer with Congress before making any decision on the land.

While Governor of an oil-rich state, Hickel has strenuously opposed higher petroleum import quotas. But Maine Democrat Edmund Muskie, whose state wants to offset New England's high fuel costs with a free-trade zone and a refinery for imported petroleum, won from Hickel a promise to reconsider the problem from a national viewpoint.*

Closed Doors. When it came time for Old Capitol Hill Hand William Rogers to testify, there was hardly a Senator in the Foreign Relations Committee who did not know him. As a courtesy to the incoming Secretary of State, Chairman William Fulbright held the meeting behind closed doors. Rogers discussed efforts with Moscow to settle the Middle East crisis and the incoming Administration's initiative in unsnarling the Paris talks (see THE WORLD).

Meanwhile, Secretary of Defense-designate Melvin Laird, who had gained a solid reputation as an expert in military affairs in 16 years in the House, told the Senate Armed Services Committee what it wanted to hear. He was in favor of staying ahead of the Soviet Union in the nuclear arms race. He said that the invasion of Czechoslovakia had set back attempts to negotiate an arms-limitation treaty as much as twelve months. Added Laird: "We have to start preparing all over again."

The smoothest confirmation hearing concerned John Mitchell, Nixon's former law partner and now his Attorney General. The 55-year-old bond expert told the Senate Judiciary Committee that he would use electronic devices for "national security and against organized crime." Ramsey Clark, Mitchell's predecessor, had brusquely refused to obey a congressional directive to use wiretapping. Asked if he would mix politics with his work at the Justice Department, Mitchell answered that the 1968 campaign was "my first entry into politics, and I trust it will be my last."

By week's end, even the thorniest conflict-of-interest problem facing Nixon's extraordinarily affluent Cabinet seemed to have been resolved to the Senate's satisfaction. As for Hickel, the Senators kept their prehearing promise of teaching the Alaskan millionaire exactly what was expected of him in his national post.

*Even as Hickel struggled for confirmation last week, outgoing Secretary of the Interior Stewart Udall made a final bequest to conservationists. He set aside land in California, Alaska, Utah and Arizona for national parks and monuments.

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