Then Vesco had another idea. One of his recent personnel acquisitions—to him, lawyers were as plentiful and interchangeable as shirts—was Harry Sears, the 6-foot-5 former majority leader of the New Jersey State Senate. Vesco had lavishly supported Sears' failed 1969 gubernatorial bid, and the former state senator, known as the most honest politician in New Jersey, was now effectively the businessman's indentured servant. "We own him," Vesco allegedly once said of the politician. "He's bought and paid for." Sears, in turn, enjoyed close ties to John Mitchell, President Nixon's attorney general and most trusted confidant. Perhaps Sears, working through Mitchell, could arrange for Casey to meet with Vesco.

But Mitchell did nothing, despite repeated pleas from Sears, to exert pressure on the S.E.C. Indeed, things only got worse. At Vesco's depositions, fights broke out. Cook, the S.E.C.'s general counsel, bluntly told Sears, "Vesco lied when he was here on deposition, and if Vesco lied, we have to consider the possibility of a criminal referral." Sears testified that he reported back to his patron that he was "getting bad marks" with the S.E.C. chairman. "Bob, they do not believe you.... They claim you perjured yourself, and they point it out in very strong terms."

"That's a lot of crap!" Vesco shot back. The staff lawyers must "have brainwashed Brad Cook," he said. Now Vesco concluded that there was only one escape from his predicament: He would buy his way out.

Accordingly, Vesco and I.C.C. president Laurence Richardson paid a visit to the Washington office of former Commerce secretary Maurice Stans on March 8, 1972. A big-game hunter who enjoyed the finer things, the owlish 63-year-old Stans stood imperiously astride the worlds of politics and finance. He had served as President Eisenhower's budget director and in 1960 had won election to the Accounting Hall of Fame. Now the head of CREEP's finance committee, Stans was on his way toward raising $62 million—the equivalent of $310 million today—for Nixon's reelection drive, a then-unheard-of sum.

Vesco began the meeting, according to later testimony, by telling Stans that he had been a generous contributor to Nixon's cause in 1968—he had given $50,000—and wanted to do better in '72. "But I have a problem," Vesco continued. "My company and I are under investigation by the S.E.C.  The investigation has been going on for more than a year and not produced any charges nor arrived at any settlement. It's completely without merit and amounts to a personal vendetta and harassment.... I want to find a way to bring the case to a conference and a settlement."

"Well," Stans replied, "I can't help you with this, but let's see if we can get you an appointment with John Mitchell today while you are here." Richardson recalled that Stans picked up the phone but did not succeed in getting an appointment.

"How much you got in mind to give?" Stans then asked. "I want to be in the front row," Vesco said, his arriviste ambitions laid bare. When Stans indicated that would cost more than $1 million, Vesco offered to give $500,000 in two installments. Stans explained that after April 7, all contributions of that size had to be publicly reported with the donor's name, so Vesco might want to make the first payment before April 6.