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Page 2/The Batta I ion/Tuesday, August 2, 1983 opinion From a summer 10 years past. Heroes of Watergate find image fading by Clay F. Richards United Press International WASHINGTON — Ten years ago this summer millions of Americans sat glued in front of their television sets as the dra ma known as Watergate unfolded in the Senate Caucus Room. Public television brought those hear ings back last week in a two-hour documentry titled “Summer of Judg ment,” relying heavily on the hours of taped hearings in the files of its Washing ton station, WET A. The heroes that summer — Sen. Sam Ervin, the Bible quoting constitutional expert from North Carolina; Sen. Lowell Weicker of Connecticut, the first Repub lican to blow the whistle on the leaders of his own party; Sen. Howard Baker, who bored through the politics and insisted on knowing what the president knew and when he knew it; and the others seemed frozen in history. only Democrats, but challenges from within his own party to hold on to his seat. Ervin has gone back to being a country lawyer. Of the other members of the commit tee, Sens. Edward Gurney, R-Fla., Joseph Now, 10 years later, their hero status has faded. It was a summer that made household names out of a couple of dozen senators, House members and key staff aides. The business of toppling the president of the United States was the kind of stuff that made American heroes. Baker has aged considerably, not from Watergate, but from a decade of frustration as minority and now majority leader of the Senate. He is about to retire from the Senate — some say to run for the presidency down the road. But that is a long shot. Weicker has become even more of a maverick and has had to fight off not The business of toppling the pres ident of the United States was the kind of stuff that made American heroes. Montoya, D-N.M. and Herman Tal- madge, D-Ga., would find their own in tegrity under attack before they retired from the scene. Samuel Dash, the committee’s chief counsel who relentlessly questioned each witness like a prosecutor building his case brick by brick, has spent a quiet 10 years back teaching law at Georgetown. His peaceful academic life is interrupted ev ery year by reporters doing anniversary stories. In those old Watergate hearing tapes there is always behind Ervin a boyish round face, often puffing a pipe. He was the chairman’s counsel, Rufus Edmin- ston, who is now the attorney general of North Carolina. He is a favorite to cap ture the state’s governorship next year and could become the first in the cast of characters to go places. Over on the House side, none of those members who sat in judgment of Nixon on the Judiciary Committee’s impeach ment hearings has changed much. Two, Republican William Cohen of Maine and Democrat Paul Sarbanes of Maryland, have moved to the Senate, but and] both hold marginal seats fight for re-election every six Barbara Jordan, the eloqu who was widely thought of asm; high office or the Supreme teaching law school. Charles Wiggins of Calift president’s articulate and conn defender, has left the Housefli by his former colleagues. Peter Rodino of New Jersey to quietly and modestly chairihti tee that voted to recommend House impeach Nixon. That summer a decade agoi« for the most party ordinary peo the Senate and House, had then over what Ervin called the tragedy in the history of Ami moved a president from office, returned them to their old unchanged by their moment n David I Colorad Lake S< qm A ...CAN 1 Ht-LP TOD CARRY SOME OF TUKySF., HFJVRYP ^ vrzz t by Mary La CAMBODIAN INCURSION tv. VIETNAM Battalion When the Jan boarded an ria a year ago t< ey didn’t knov oguslaw Le] they arriv Houston clac lies, they mi: right away khen ate ‘It’s too h< ek said. “It :and,there IT'S B\ININ6..ITS P0URIN6„THE OLD MAN IS SMI : Lepek fa |Polish fami bored thro Shurch by of Ro; hied i Inited The Battalion USPS 045 360 Member ot Texas Press Association Southwest Journalism Conference Editor Hope E. Paasch City Editor Kelley Smith Sports Editor John Wagner News Editors Daran Bishop, Brian Boyer, Beverly Hamilton, Tammy Jones Staff Writers Robert McGlohon, Karen Schrimsher, Angel Stokes, Joe Tindel Copy editors Kathleen Hart, Beverly Hamilton Cartoonist Scott McCullar Photographers Brenda Davidson, Eric Evan Lee, Barry Papke Editorial Policy The Battalion is a non-profit, self-supporting news paper operated as a community service to Texas A&M University and Bryan-College Station. Opinions ex pressed in The Battalion are those of the editor or the author, and do not necessarily represent the opinions of Texas A&M University administrators or faculty mem bers, or of the Board of Regents. The Battalion also serves as a laboratory newspaper for students in reporting, editing and photography clas ses within the Department of Communications. Questions or comments concerning any editorial mat ter should be directed to the editor. Letters Policy Letters to the Editor should not exceed 300 words in length, and are subject to being cut if they are longer. The editorial staff reserves the right to edit letters for style and length, but will make every effort to maintain the author’s intent. Each letter must also be signed and show the address and telephone number of the writer. Columns and guest editorials also are welcome, and are not subject to the same length constraints as letters. Address all inquiries and correspondence to: Editor, The Battalion, 216 Reed McDonald, Texas A&M Uni versity, College Station, TX 77843, or phone (409) 845- 2611. The Battalion is published Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday during both Texas A&M regular summer sessions, except for holiday and examination periods. Mail subscriptions are $16.75 per semester, $33.25 per school year and $35 per full year. Advertising rates furnished on request. Our address: The Battalion, 216 Reed McDonald Building, Texas A&M University, College Station, TX 77843. United Press International is entitled exclusively to the use for reproduction of all news dispatches credited to it. Rights of reproduction of all other matter herein reserved. Second class postage paid at College Station, TX 77843. dagger deserves her chance to speak l to spon: [them a cha States. iThe family reason )al and M; ily infori the Lepeks names an olitical by Maxwell Glen and Cody Shearer WASHINGTON — When right wingers encounter real-world complex ities, their paranoia sometimes takes on a fitful, even incredible, dimension. It’s called “J ane Fonda Syndrome.” Washington’s latest case of this malady, first diagnosed during the Viet nam War, focuses on Bianca Jagger. For years now, the divorced wife of that famous Rolling Stone has championed the cause of poor people in Central America, including those in her native Nicaragua. In the eyes of Reaganite Washington, however, her advocacy has made Bianca a threat to national security — a scape goat, like Jane Fonda, for America’s latest misguided conflict. Bianca, 33 years old (she says) and a Nicaraguan citizen, stands accused of lobbying Congress on behalf of the San- dinistas and using her glamour-girl sta tus to foment trouble for Reagan policies both here and there. William Safire of The New York Times was particularly incensed that a Massachusetts college, albeit small, would give her an honorary degree. Another pair of administration sup porters, columnists Rowland Evans and Robert Novak, declared last week that Bianca’s July 5 meeting with two staffers had “confirmed” the leftward shift of a once-bipartisan House Intelligence Committee. Reached by phone at the Managua Intercontinental Hotel last Monday morning (July 25), Jagger conceded that, yes, she’d called on the Intelligence Com mittee staffers (bearing evidence, she said, of Honduran military action against a Nicaraguan town only days before). In fact, she admitted, “I’ve been visit ing Congress for about three years,” as many who’ve seen her at past hearings can attest. Jagger, however, pooh-poohed the notion that she supports, let alone lobbies on behalf of, the Sandinistas. As proof, she cited her published criticisms of Nicaragua’s political and press restric tions and added that her family has fled the country within the last three months. “I sometimes have difficulty making myself understood (in the U.S.),” Jagger said, “because what I am trying to do is not to advocate that the Sandinistas have such a great government, but that the Reagan administration’s actions in Cen tral America are not the most mature way of looking at the situation . . . I’in trying to advocate negotiations. Otherwise, we’re going to have major blood shed .... As for her relations with members of Congress and their staffs, Jagger hardly sees herself as some Sandinista siren. “I think that access to (Congress) doesn’t come overnight — especially (to) members of the Intelligence Commit tee,” she said, adding, “I don’t . . . see li berals of the House because I feel they are convinced. I don’t have to convince them.” Indeed, a former Intelligence Com mittee staffer contended that Jagger had met with panel staff only once before her rendezvous on July 5. Therein lies dubious evidence of a Jagger Juggernaut. So why all the indig nation over the energetic, educational efforts of a woman who has witnessed the plight of innocent civilians? Conservative envy, for one. As Wil liam Safire asked, “Where are their coun terparts?” referring to both Jagger and Lisa Fitzgerald, an outspoken American nun who has spent much of the last two years helping war-ravaged civilians near Nicaragua’s border with Honduras. Though Safire wrongly asserts “the glamorous female celebvityd flan, j has always been a property ofiS ■— (what about Anita Bryant, Clart Luce and Shirley Temple Blati t rightly cites a dearth of con® by Rose A Battalic A vacation ir lay be the las om before th ins — start p female celebrities speaking outs tral American matters. More importantly, howevei Jagger hysteria reflects the sa noia that prompts the White send at least six warships onai patrol off Nicaragua’s coast, to portedly major expansion managed guerrilla activities | ;Adele Web< Nicaragua, and to maintain pla# 1 . * or f xeci joint U.S.-Honduran militaryexff im P ortant volving 5,000 American troom«“^ n s " this, ol course, in the taceoi"|p nas p OSS ^ State Department called a “pos%tes and av plomatic proposal last weekbySa ges, said We Junta Coordinator Daniel Shake reserva Bianca Jagger simply hasaffys in advai tive to share, one rooted in firstliffl ta g e tours perience in a region that mostAmJ hooking dare not visit. If Henry Kissinger, who mi mention of El Salvador, Nicai Central America in his menu chair a presidential commission region, then Jagger deserves ai speak. Banks like only ‘right’ money by Fred Ferguson United Press International NEW YORK — When the banks won’t take your money, it must mean some thing. It’s not paranoia. We don’t just think they don’t want our money. They really are reluctant to take it. Take what happened the other day. We were in trouble from the start. The guard watched with acute suspicion. We were lugging this big plastic bag. He kept watching during the writing of a deposit slip and the approach to the teller’s cage. The contents of that plastic shopping bag — actually two, one inside the other because of the weight — were plopped on the counter in front of the teller. Thump, thump, thump. People turned their heads to the tune of that thumping. It was mildly embar rassing. This particular bank hails itself as a friendly people’s bank where you get personal attention. It’s not like the bank we used to go to where you didn’t get personal attention. You got compute rized instead. The friendly people’s bank’s compu ter is less visible. Tellers have to go to it to check up on you. It doesn’t sit blinking at them in their cages. Our favorite friendly people’s bank teller let out a yelp before running off to check up on the account in the computer. “Harry,” she said to the guard, “why do you do this to me? Didn’t you see what he’s carrying?” “Mr. Ferguson,” she said, reproach fully. “It’s 2:45 on a Friday. You couldn’t come in earlier? We close in 15 minutes.” “I was working.” “You couldn’t work some other time?” There didn’t seem to be an answer to that. She began to gather in the money with great distaste. One would have thought she didn’t like money. Maybe if you handled it all day, you wouldn’t either. She counted: 19 rolls pennies — $9.50; 10 rolls nickels — $20; 4 rolls di mes — $20; 3 rolls quarters — $30. In all, $79.50, the product of a lot of careful hoarding. “You shouldn’t do this,” she went on. “You’re hurting circulation.” We felt hurt. “You know we can’t count this today,” she said. “We’ll have to debit you if it comes out wrong.” “OK.” All this time, there was the sound of shuffling feet behind us. This was accom panied by groaning and moaning. The friendly people’s bank’s lines are seldom long. But our pennies were holding up other customers’ deposits. We looked around furtively to meet stares of frus tration and anger. Eventually, our deposit book was re turned almost reluctantly. The fact it showed a higher balance, after all, might encourage such conduct. So there was a parting an admonition about coming in earlier next time. The experience left us with a feeling we should try another method. Perhaps we should buy something with all that money we occasionally bring the bank. But we’ve tried that before. It upsets cashiers. They don’t like our kind of money any more than bank tellers. Slowly an idea is dawning. Our money must not be the right kind. Only paper money is in vogue. But how do you get paper pennies? Slouch ByJ im United Pr BIG SPRI1 ee west T idicted a : loss rought. U.S. Agr Commit! , Martin ; predict $ n and $1( ictively. Tim Hal mittee d ‘It’s my laundry mark