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The Institute for Policy Studies, a liberal Washington think tank, was sponsoring a film about congress directed by Saul Landau, who was a fellow at the Institute. He also happened to live in our commune at 13th and Q, as did a couple of other members of the film crew. On the day in question, the crew invited me to attend the hearing as the sound man for the film. That is, I was to tend the tape recorder that was recording the audio for the film. Also there that day were Michael Anderson, a cameraman, Saul and his roommate (and my former communal roommate at the Ferry Sisters commune), Rebecca Switzer, now his wife of twenty-some years. The major networks had decided to pool their camera coverage of the event, opening up some slots for others. That day, we had been allocated the NBC slot, which allowed just enough room for the four of us and our equipment to squeeze in.

When we arrived at the Senate building and entered through the back way, my fugitive mind (yes, I was a fugitive at the time, see: Who was/is Bruce Madison?) noted with some surprise that the guard on duty did not bother to check any of the equipment bags that we carried with us. We could have carried a small nuclear weapon into the hearings with us, given the volume of equipment we were carrying with us! But that was only the first irony of the day.

When we settled into our spot, Rebecca, an absolutely priceless resource for this kind of information, pointed out some of the celebrities present. She informed me that the man pacing up and down in front of us with a microphone was none other than the famous author, Norman Mailer, who was doing live commentary for one of the radio networks. Across the way was Sam Donaldson, then a rather fresh face at ABC, whom Saul identified as the "premier peacock" in the reporter pool...far more concerned with his appearance than the average TV reporter...and rumored to be wearing a "rug."

There was a sense of electric excitement around the room. There were more than fifty still photographers crouched in front of the crescent shaped podium behind which sat the distinguished senators and their aides. As they snapped off "establishing" shots of the room, each click of their shutters was followed by a rather loud whir as their cameras advanced to the next frame. Later, when some significant event was taking place, you could this click-whir combination would rise to a cacophony as they all shot the same scene simultaneously. In fact, this sound show would often be the only indication I had that something important was happening. Saul, much better informed than the rest of us, would then explain in low tones what exactly was going on.

Besides the chatter of reporters giving their intros for the cameras, there was a sizeable audience seated in the large room, all apparently speaking at once. Only when Sam Irvin finally loudly banged his gavel did the babble subside. The session had begun.

Much of the time, we were too involved with the technical details of filming a movie to pay too much attention to what was going on, but there were several exceptions. The senators would often be called back to the Senate chambers for votes, at which time a recess would be called. This gave all of us present time to pick up another cup of coffee or visit the rest rooms...the standard input/output stream for such events.

During one such break, I decided to see how close I could get to the witness table without causing alarm among the numerous Secret Service agents present during the intermissions who were guarding the tables, which were strewn with documents. There was a pitcher of water sitting on the small table behind which Mr. Dean was seated, and it occurred to me that it might be possible to slip some LSD into the water, if one could get the proper opportunity. The thought of John Mitchell trying to answer the Senator's inquiries stoned on acid rather amused me. He was Nixon's attorney general and was widely reviled on the left, for harshly prosecuting draft evaders and war protesters. He was also a stodgy old fart.

So, I picked up a light meter and approached the table pretending to take readings from various distances. The Secret Service agents virtually ignored me. I didn't touch anything on the table but noted with interest that I could pass the light meter directly above the pitcher of water. I had discovered my potential "delivery vehicle" for my hypothetical LSD "attack."

Having accomplished what I set out to do, I noticed that one of the agents was holding a small device, much like a TV remote control, in one hand. Curious, I asked, "Pardon me. What is that device you are carrying?"

"Oh, that controls the secret cameras." he responded genially. He didn't ask who I was or why I cared. I guess he figured that my being in the room and doing something official looking was enough credentials.

"What secret cameras?" I asked, now even more curious. The thought of being recorded spiking John Mitchell's water had become an issue. The "plan" was looking pretty shaky.

"There's one in the chandelier..." he responded, pointing to the huge crystal chandelier suspended over the middle of the audience area. Yes, that one was plainly visible. "...and there's one behind the eye of the eagle in that seal..." he continued, gesturing to the large official seal hanging at the back of the room. He went on to point out several more and then explained, "This dial here..." there was a dial surrounded by numbers with a rotary switch in the center on the control unit "..selects the camera you want to take a picture with, and this button here take the picture. For example, the camera in the chandelier is number one..." and he went on to give a few more examples, but I wasn't listening too carefully. I was thinking that such a low-tech device wouldn't present much of a problem, especially if no one suspected you were doing anything out of the ordinary. No one appeared to have been taking MY picture as I scanned the table.

He interrupted my thoughts by asking, still quite amiably, "Do you want to take your picture?"

"Sure, why not." I answered, never one to pass up such an historical opportunity. So he set the dial and handed me the controller and started to move out of the field of vision of the camera. "No, no," I called out, "Come on back and get into the picture." I pulled him in close to me, put my arm around him and said, "Smile!" as I snapped the photo.

So, somewhere in the archives of the Secret Service is a picture of me with my arm around the shoulders of an agent, both of us smiling for posterity. I was thinking to my self, "You are a COOL dude!"

During a break later in the afternoon, an event occurred that severely tested that cool. Dean had passed the Enemies List to the Senators and copies had been made and passed out to the various media, including the pack of still photographers at the front of the room. Suddenly, as if guided by a single hand, the entire crew rose as one, pointed their cameras toward me and began shooting pictures. I could hardly hear the click-whir, the blood was pounding so loudly in my head. "What is going ON? How could they KNOW?" I wondered. But, as quickly as it had begun, with only a few stragglers still shooting, the turned away and became preoccupied with other things.

Saul quickly explained, way before I had regained my composure, "Look here! IPS is ON the Enemies List! This is why they're taking our picture."

Of course! I could see the headline:

Nixon's Enemy Films Hearing where Enemies List is Surrendered

But the main event, and central irony, was yet to occur. Later in the afternoon, John Lennon and Yoko Ono entered the chamber to attend part of the hearings. As they made their way toward their seats, in the front row, everything stopped...every head turned toward them...every senator, every media celebrity, EVERYONE...every pair of eyes in the room was glued to their image. Although they had come in while the proceedings were in progress rather than during a break, EVERYTHING stopped dead. It was then I realized that celebrity had a steep gradient and that I had witnessed, at that moment, who sat at the VERY TOP. I can't imagine who or what could have upstaged them. Even Nixon himself would have been ignored at that moment, had he entered at the same time. After catching their breath, the photographers went nuts clicking and whirring and the media personalities began to excitedly report this event to the world.

Rebecca, never one to miss such an opportunity and showing far more aplomb than anyone else in the room, hastily scrawled out an invitation to the couple to come over to our commune for dinner that evening and signed it with Saul's name. Saul had met Lennon before and Rebecca hoped he would remember. While everyone else was stunned, she made her way to them and passed the note to John and returned to our location. Lennon read the note, looked over and, recognizing Saul, nodded "Yes."

You can not imagine how excited we were as we were preparing dinner that evening. However, we received a note by messenger just before they were expected to show up saying that they had to return to New York and sent their regrets.

Oh, well. I just said that I was LIKE Forrest Gump, not that I WAS Forrest Gump!

See you tomorrow...

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