DO WE REALLY CARE WHAT THEY HAD TO SAY, ANYWAY?

January 17 was a "freaky night" at the Charles Hotel. Two Crimson reporters, Gary Bass and Richard Primus, talked with film director Oliver Stone and Major John Newman. Newman's Ph.D. dissertation, now published as JFK and Vietnam, was one of Stone's major sources for his movie JFK.

The whole interview now rests on cassette, partially transcribed, and stares up from a drawer in the magazine office. Little excerpts like to tease:

Crimson: Just out of Curiosity, do you know what (L. Fletcher Prouty's) L stands for?

Stone: Yeah, we have an office pool going.

Newman: No, I'm sorry, I don't. Do you know, are you familiar with, the magazine Freedom?

Crimson: No.

Newman:I mean, I don't get it myself but I did procure those issues where he wrote several articles--there are about 20--I'm just saying that because somewhere in there it might have his full name. Do you have a copy of his book, Secret Team?

Crimson: Yeah, we do.

Newman: Not in there?

Crimson: It just says L.Fletcher. I think, let me check. We also have one of his major things, one of his articles from Gallery.

Newman: Allright. If I say something stupid, it's because it's 12:30 in the morning and I'm drinking Scotch and all that, okay?

Later:

Newman: I can sit here right now and tell you a story about Lyndon Johnson. I'll tell you about the falsification of the figures that makes what CBS went to press with Westmoreland look like kindergarten...

Newman engages in some detailed discussion of government documents and falsification. He talks about Vietnam, "Jack," cold corpses, and conspiracy.

For Gary and Richard, I imagine the Stone interview made for a surreal night, a great story and a welcome distraction from exam study. Definitely something to remember.

For Rita Berardino, who tackled the transcription, the whole thing was "a history textbook from hell." She probably won't forget it for a while, either.

Despite my minimal contribution to the whole effort, that January 17 interview means something to me, too.

In literature classes, they tell you to look for the open spaces--the subtle silences and voids, slipped in, that tell more than the words.

So, in the midst of scrambling to put together this week's magazine, I hear that unplayed cassette--loud and clear, right through its closed case.

It reminds me that behind each page that makes it to press, there's an looming, unwritten shadow.

I hope it's something I'll be able to forget.