Only Baker remains. His credibility took a bad beating yesterday. Dean ran straight at him, startling the TV audience with constant references to Baker's personal dealings with “the White House,” prior to the hearings. There was no need to mention that Baker is the son-in-law of that late and only half-lamented “Solon” from the Great State of Illinois, Sen. Everett Dirksen.

Dean is clearly a shrewd executive. He will have no trouble getting a good job when he gets out of prison.

Now Montoya -- the flaccid Mex-Am from New Mexico. No problem here for John Dean. . . Suddenly Montoya hits Dean head on with Nixon's bogus quote about Dean's investigation clearing all members of White House staff. Dean calmly shrugs it off as a lie -- “I never made any investigation.”

-- Montoya continues with entire list of prior Nixon statements.

Dean: “In totality, there are less than accurate statements in that. . . ah. . . those statements.”

Montoya is after Nixon's head! Is this the first sign? Over the hump for Tricky Dick?

*** Recall lingering memory of Miami Beach plainclothes cop, resting in armory behind Convention Center on night of Nixon's renomination -- (“You tell 'em, Tricky Dick.”) -- watching Nixon's speech on TV. . . with tear gas fumes all around us and demonstrators gagging outside.

4:20 EDT

As usual, the pace picks up at the end. These buggers should be forced to keep at it for 15 or 16 straight hours -- heavy doses of speed, pots of coffee, Wild Turkey, etc., force them down to the raving hysterical quick. Wild accusations, etc. . .

Dean becomes more confident as time goes on-- a bit flip now, finding his feet.

Friday morning, June 29. . . 8:33 AM

Jesus, this waterhead Gurney again! You'd think the poor bugger would have the sense to not talk anymore. . . but no, Gurney is still blundering along, still hammering blindly at the receding edges of Dean's “credibility” in his now-obvious role as what Frank Reynolds and Sam Donaldson on ABC-TV both described as “the waterboy for the White House.”

Gurney appears to be deaf; he has a brain like a cow's udder. He asks his questions -- off the typed list apparently furnished him by Minority (GOP) counsel, Fred J, Thompson -- then his mind seems to wander, his eyes roam lazily around the room while Thompson whispers industriously in his ear, his hands shuffle papers distractedly on the table in front of his microphone. . . and meanwhile, Dean meticulously chews up his questions and hands them back to him in shreds; so publicly mangled that their fate might badly embarrass a man with good sense. . .