Across town, on the seventh floor of the State Department building, Iran Desk chief Henry Precht held a less sanguine view, especially when word reached Washington that Khomeini had endorsed the action. He suspected this meant they were in for a long standoff. The Iranian “promise” that the White House was leaning on so heavily had been tentative at best. Precht had been in the room in Tehran when it was given, after he had personally informed the provisional leadership of Carter’s decision to admit the shah.
It was at that meeting that Ibrahim Yazdi had predicted trouble. He had said, “We’ll do our best…we’ll do what we can.”
It was hardly an ironclad assurance. Now, with Khomeini backing the students, Precht knew Bazargan’s government would be powerless.
He had heard about the embassy takeover in his car, driving home from upstate New York on Sunday with his wife after a day visit with their son at Colgate University. He had gone straight into the office, where he had helped set up the crisis room, right around the corner from the office of Secretary of State Cyrus Vance. It was equipped with a long table and lines of telephones and telex machines.
Precht was asked to draft a letter from President Carter to Khomeini, something that could be hand-delivered by Clark and Miller. The standing instructions for such letters was that they be written with the expectation that they would be leaked, that they would soon appear on the front page of the New York Times, which meant, Precht knew, that the White House would want to sound tough. The mood in the country was angry. But from what he knew about Iran he doubted tough talk would help. In Shia Iran, the threat to spill blood only played into the country’s fetish for martyrdom. Khomeini would almost certainly call America’s bluff, and Carter would then be compelled to act. Precht counted many friends among those now tied to chairs in Tehran, and he knew that any American military action would likely mean death for some or all of them. He had talked some of those Americans into taking postings in Tehran, including one junior consulate officer who had told him during his last visit there that things were “crazy” and that they all ought to come home. Precht had reassured him, as well as plenty of the others. Now he felt personally responsible for their safety. His draft of the letter to Khomeini struck a conciliatory tone, one that acknowledged the legitimacy of some of Iran’s grievances and that was less concerned with expressing American indignation than with persuasion. He wanted to convince the imam, not confront him.
The letter would get a stern reworking by Brzezinski, but remained a remarkably restrained document. It contained neither threats nor concessions. America wished to reopen a dialogue with Iran and to restore friendly ties. The shah would stay in the United States until his treatment was finished but there were assurances that the stay would be temporary, and to offset suspicion that he had been admitted for reasons other than medical, Iranian authorities were offered access to the doctors treating him. The independence and territorial integrity of Iran were acknowledged, and the mutually beneficial possibility of reestablishing a military supply relationship was mentioned, but in the final draft there was no hint of Precht’s “legitimate grievances.” It read, in part:
In the name of the American people, I ask that you release unharmed all Americans presently detained in Iran and those held with them and allow them to leave your country safely and without delay. I ask you to recognize the compelling humanitarian reasons, firmly based in international law, for doing so.
I have asked both men to meet with you and to hear from you your perspective on events in Iran and the problems which have arisen between our two countries. The people of the United States desire to have relations with Iran based upon equality, mutual respect and friendship.
Clark and Miller were invited to the White House, and indirect contacts with Ayatollah Mohammed Behesti, head of the Revolutionary Council, indicated that if these two men came as Carter’s personal emissaries—unlike the formal American mission in Tehran—they would be politely received.
This mission was supposed to remain top secret, but Richard Valeriani, who covered the State Department for NBC, found out. A veteran on the beat who had traveled the world with Henry Kissinger, Valeriani had gotten to know people in the State Department office who handled the logistics of official travel. On the hunch that the White House would be sending an emissary to Iran, he called up the office and pretended to know there was a mission afoot.
“Do you know yet who is going?” he asked his friend.
“Ramsey Clark,” the source said, “and some other guy.” As Valeriani scribbled, the man turned away from the phone and yelled across his office, “Who’s going to Tehran with Clark?” Then he came back on the line. “Bill Miller,” he said.
Valeriani took the scoop to Hodding Carter, the State Department spokesman, for confirmation.
“You can’t use that story,” Carter told him.
Valeriani had already alerted his bosses in New York, who were excited to have it first. Valeriani said he didn’t think he could stop them, so the White House intervened with top executives to hold the story.
“We don’t have formal permission yet for them to land in Tehran,” explained Carter. “If you run the story tonight, it will make it look like we are putting pressure on them. It could kill the mission.”
NBC agreed to sit on the story, but not for long.
16. Two Minutes of Hate
Monday morning brought sunshine to Tehran. It slanted in through the tall windows of the ambassador’s residence, which was now crowded with Iranian guards and blindfolded Americans tied to chairs or beds or scattered on floors everywhere. In fewer than twenty-four hours the carefully planned demonstration had stirred an international storm. Protests would come from most of the world’s nations, but there was also approval. The embassy seizure had tapped a well of Muslim resentment that stretched well beyond the borders of Iran. In practical terms it was nothing more than a cheap shot—the embassy had been defenseless—but symbolically it was a major blow.
The students who had spent a cramped night with their hostages didn’t understand this yet, but they could feel it. Overnight, with Khomeini’s endorsement, they had become national heroes. It was as if they had captured a dragon. The jubilant throngs ferociously cheered as the embassy’s new occupiers carried out trash in American flags or led an American out a door bound and blindfolded. Their glee rattled the walls and vibrated the floors. The crowd also acted as a human shield, protecting its new young champions from an anticipated American counterattack. The imam’s decision to endorse the takeover had dramatically undercut the provisional government and strengthened the hand of religious radicals.