Henry Kissinger would seem to have it made in the shade of the old money tree. He has the fat NBC contract, the heavy book deal with Time, Inc., the consultancy with the Chase bank, the academic foothold at Georgetown University. Most of these jobs still seem to leave the former Secretary with plenty of time to run headline-snagging errands when the State Department can’t figure out what to do with the Shah, or when the Senate can’t make up its mind in the matter of the SALT II treaties. Things could be incrementally worse, as Kissinger might put it.
But into each life a little rain, along with the Susan B. Anthony dollars, must fall. In Kissinger’s case, the rain carries a well-known journalistic agent thought in some quarters to be carcinogenic: Seymour Hersh. A former New York Times investigative reporter, the man who brought us the folk who brought us the Mylai massacre, Sy Hersh is holed up in a scruffy office in Washington’s National Press Building working on a big book, a book big enough to have attracted a $200,000 advance from the hot New York publishing house, Simon & Schuster. Uninhibited by Times “objectivity,” Hersh promises a microscopic study of the man he has called the “prime liar of Washington.”
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