ESPN
IN THE SPRING of 2008, the NFL was in crisis. A hard-charging United States senator from Pennsylvania named Arlen Specter had launched an investigation into the Spygate scandal. He tried to determine how many games the New England Patriots' illegal videotaping operation of opposing coaches' signals had helped the team win and learn why the NFL, under the orders of commissioner Roger Goodell, had destroyed all evidence of the cheating. By May, Specter -- a former Philadelphia district attorney and a lifelong Eagles fan -- was so angry at the "stonewalling" of his inquiry by the league and the Patriots that he called for an independent investigator, similar to the Mitchell investigation of steroid use in professional baseball. League executives and coaches might be forced to testify under oath. The prospect sent the league, and its new commissioner, into panic. "If it ever got to an investigation," Goodell said at one point, "it would be terrible for the league."
The NFL tried to combat the Specter inquiry with public statements from teams that were the primary victims of New England's spying saying the league had done its due diligence. It wasn't working.
But there was one man, a mutual friend of Specter and Patriots owner Robert Kraft, who believed that he could make the investigation go away. He was a famous businessman and reality television star who routinely threw money at politicians to try to curry favor, whether it worked or not. He had been a generous political patron of Specter's for two decades.
One day in early 2008, Specter had dinner with the man in Palm Beach at his palatial club, not far from Kraft's Florida home. A phone call followed. The friend offered Specter what the senator felt was tantamount to a bribe: "If you laid off the Patriots, there'd be a lot of money in Palm Beach."
IN OCTOBER 2017, an ESPN reporter visited the University of Pittsburgh's Archives & Special Collections, housed in a five-story brick building in a neighborhood of warehouses and auto repair shops. For two days, the reporter sifted through Sen. Arlen Specter's letters, speeches, memos, notes and calendars, accumulated across a half-century career in public life, searching for evidence identifying the friend who had offered cash if the senator would shut down his pesky Spygate inquiry.
Two autumns earlier, the reporter had received a tip about the mutual friend's name. At the time, the man had just launched an outside and underdog campaign for president. But the tip was hard to confirm. Among Specter's papers, the reporter found a few clues but nothing conclusive. Before and after the visit to Pittsburgh, the reporter made more than a dozen calls to confidants of Specter, who died in October 2012 of complications from non-Hodgkin lymphoma, but had failed to turn up anything definitive. Another ESPN reporter visited Washington, D.C., meeting with Specter's former staffers at fashionable Beltway gossip venues BLT Steak and Off the Record. Nothing conclusive turned up.
But recently and unexpectedly, there's been movement in the quest. Follow-up conversations with the people closest to Arlen Specter -- his oldest son, Shanin, a Philadelphia personal injury and medical malpractice attorney, and Charles Robbins, Specter's trusted longtime communications aide and the ghostwriter of two Specter memoirs -- revealed this: The man who dangled campaign cash if Specter were to drop the Spygate inquiry was none other than Donald J. Trump.
Not only that: Trump had told Specter he was acting on behalf of Robert Kraft.
Kraft and Trump, both responding to ESPN through spokespeople, denied involvement in any effort to influence Specter's investigation.
"This is completely false," said Jason Miller, a senior adviser to Trump. "We have no idea what you're talking about." Miller declined to answer a series of follow-up questions. A Patriots spokesman said Kraft "never asked Donald Trump to talk to Arlen Specter on his behalf."
"Mr. Kraft is not aware of any involvement of Trump on this topic and he did not have any other engagement with Specter or his staff," the spokesman said via email.
THE ALLEGED SPYGATE connections among Arlen Specter, Donald Trump and Robert Kraft came up almost by accident. On July 1, 2010, Specter sat down with Robbins for one of their tape-recorded discussions to prepare for the writing of Specter's third and final book, a memoir titled "Life Among the Cannibals." Only six weeks earlier, Specter, who famously switched parties from Republican to Democratic, had lost a hard-fought Democratic primary to Congressman Joe Sestak. The defeat effectively ended Specter's five-term tenure in the U.S. Senate.
That evening, during a three-hour conversation inside the dark-hued den of Specter's Georgetown condo, the senator was in an expansive mood, discussing what he had considered his noble crusade for fairness in professional sports. For two decades, Specter was a frequent, loud critic of the NFL. It galled him that franchises extorted cities for new, mostly publicly financed stadiums. More than once, Specter had threatened to file legislation that would revoke the NFL's invaluable antitrust exemption. "This is part of Arlen Specter's thesis that the NFL owns America," Specter told Robbins that night, according to a transcript of their conversation. "They're addicted to pro football in a way they have never been addicted to baseball. Or heroin."
Specter then raised his quixotic inquiry into the Spygate scandal, a source of great frustration because, for one thing, he wondered whether the Patriots cheated to beat his beloved Eagles 24-21 in Super Bowl XXXIX in February 2005. And for another thing, he felt the NFL and the Patriots had stymied his bid to get the truth.
Specter's interest in Spygate began in late 2007. Then the ranking Republican on the Senate Judiciary Committee, Specter wrote two letters to Goodell raising questions about the NFL's lightning-quick investigation. In September 2007, only four days after New England was caught taping the New York Jets' coaches' signals from the sideline, the league investigation ended when the commissioner fined the Patriots $250,000 and coach Bill Belichick $500,000 and confiscated the team's first-round draft pick. Goodell then briefly reopened the league investigation days later and ordered his most trusted aide, league general counsel Jeff Pash, to stomp a handful of spying videotapes to pieces inside a Gillette Stadium conference room. The punishments had been delivered before the evidence was collected and then quickly destroyed. To Specter and others, this looked, at best, like an amateur investigation or, worse, like a cover-up. And then Goodell did not respond to either of Specter's letters seeking an explanation.
Specter was still seething about that in January 2008 when Carl Hulse, a congressional reporter for The New York Times, asked Specter who he thought would win that year's Super Bowl, which eventually featured a clash between the undefeated Patriots and the New York Giants.
CONTINUED:
Son, ghostwriter of late senator say Trump intervened to stop probe of Patriots' Spygate scandal (espn.com)
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- Don Van Natta Jr.
- Seth Wickersham
IN THE SPRING of 2008, the NFL was in crisis. A hard-charging United States senator from Pennsylvania named Arlen Specter had launched an investigation into the Spygate scandal. He tried to determine how many games the New England Patriots' illegal videotaping operation of opposing coaches' signals had helped the team win and learn why the NFL, under the orders of commissioner Roger Goodell, had destroyed all evidence of the cheating. By May, Specter -- a former Philadelphia district attorney and a lifelong Eagles fan -- was so angry at the "stonewalling" of his inquiry by the league and the Patriots that he called for an independent investigator, similar to the Mitchell investigation of steroid use in professional baseball. League executives and coaches might be forced to testify under oath. The prospect sent the league, and its new commissioner, into panic. "If it ever got to an investigation," Goodell said at one point, "it would be terrible for the league."
The NFL tried to combat the Specter inquiry with public statements from teams that were the primary victims of New England's spying saying the league had done its due diligence. It wasn't working.
But there was one man, a mutual friend of Specter and Patriots owner Robert Kraft, who believed that he could make the investigation go away. He was a famous businessman and reality television star who routinely threw money at politicians to try to curry favor, whether it worked or not. He had been a generous political patron of Specter's for two decades.
One day in early 2008, Specter had dinner with the man in Palm Beach at his palatial club, not far from Kraft's Florida home. A phone call followed. The friend offered Specter what the senator felt was tantamount to a bribe: "If you laid off the Patriots, there'd be a lot of money in Palm Beach."
IN OCTOBER 2017, an ESPN reporter visited the University of Pittsburgh's Archives & Special Collections, housed in a five-story brick building in a neighborhood of warehouses and auto repair shops. For two days, the reporter sifted through Sen. Arlen Specter's letters, speeches, memos, notes and calendars, accumulated across a half-century career in public life, searching for evidence identifying the friend who had offered cash if the senator would shut down his pesky Spygate inquiry.
Two autumns earlier, the reporter had received a tip about the mutual friend's name. At the time, the man had just launched an outside and underdog campaign for president. But the tip was hard to confirm. Among Specter's papers, the reporter found a few clues but nothing conclusive. Before and after the visit to Pittsburgh, the reporter made more than a dozen calls to confidants of Specter, who died in October 2012 of complications from non-Hodgkin lymphoma, but had failed to turn up anything definitive. Another ESPN reporter visited Washington, D.C., meeting with Specter's former staffers at fashionable Beltway gossip venues BLT Steak and Off the Record. Nothing conclusive turned up.
But recently and unexpectedly, there's been movement in the quest. Follow-up conversations with the people closest to Arlen Specter -- his oldest son, Shanin, a Philadelphia personal injury and medical malpractice attorney, and Charles Robbins, Specter's trusted longtime communications aide and the ghostwriter of two Specter memoirs -- revealed this: The man who dangled campaign cash if Specter were to drop the Spygate inquiry was none other than Donald J. Trump.
Not only that: Trump had told Specter he was acting on behalf of Robert Kraft.
Kraft and Trump, both responding to ESPN through spokespeople, denied involvement in any effort to influence Specter's investigation.
"This is completely false," said Jason Miller, a senior adviser to Trump. "We have no idea what you're talking about." Miller declined to answer a series of follow-up questions. A Patriots spokesman said Kraft "never asked Donald Trump to talk to Arlen Specter on his behalf."
"Mr. Kraft is not aware of any involvement of Trump on this topic and he did not have any other engagement with Specter or his staff," the spokesman said via email.
THE ALLEGED SPYGATE connections among Arlen Specter, Donald Trump and Robert Kraft came up almost by accident. On July 1, 2010, Specter sat down with Robbins for one of their tape-recorded discussions to prepare for the writing of Specter's third and final book, a memoir titled "Life Among the Cannibals." Only six weeks earlier, Specter, who famously switched parties from Republican to Democratic, had lost a hard-fought Democratic primary to Congressman Joe Sestak. The defeat effectively ended Specter's five-term tenure in the U.S. Senate.
That evening, during a three-hour conversation inside the dark-hued den of Specter's Georgetown condo, the senator was in an expansive mood, discussing what he had considered his noble crusade for fairness in professional sports. For two decades, Specter was a frequent, loud critic of the NFL. It galled him that franchises extorted cities for new, mostly publicly financed stadiums. More than once, Specter had threatened to file legislation that would revoke the NFL's invaluable antitrust exemption. "This is part of Arlen Specter's thesis that the NFL owns America," Specter told Robbins that night, according to a transcript of their conversation. "They're addicted to pro football in a way they have never been addicted to baseball. Or heroin."
Specter then raised his quixotic inquiry into the Spygate scandal, a source of great frustration because, for one thing, he wondered whether the Patriots cheated to beat his beloved Eagles 24-21 in Super Bowl XXXIX in February 2005. And for another thing, he felt the NFL and the Patriots had stymied his bid to get the truth.
Specter's interest in Spygate began in late 2007. Then the ranking Republican on the Senate Judiciary Committee, Specter wrote two letters to Goodell raising questions about the NFL's lightning-quick investigation. In September 2007, only four days after New England was caught taping the New York Jets' coaches' signals from the sideline, the league investigation ended when the commissioner fined the Patriots $250,000 and coach Bill Belichick $500,000 and confiscated the team's first-round draft pick. Goodell then briefly reopened the league investigation days later and ordered his most trusted aide, league general counsel Jeff Pash, to stomp a handful of spying videotapes to pieces inside a Gillette Stadium conference room. The punishments had been delivered before the evidence was collected and then quickly destroyed. To Specter and others, this looked, at best, like an amateur investigation or, worse, like a cover-up. And then Goodell did not respond to either of Specter's letters seeking an explanation.
Specter was still seething about that in January 2008 when Carl Hulse, a congressional reporter for The New York Times, asked Specter who he thought would win that year's Super Bowl, which eventually featured a clash between the undefeated Patriots and the New York Giants.
CONTINUED:
Son, ghostwriter of late senator say Trump intervened to stop probe of Patriots' Spygate scandal (espn.com)
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sad please stop