[...] through the miracle of television, Vance Vigorous enjoyed a special relationship with Richard Nixon. As Watergate wore on in brilliant color, Vance took to furtive looks, pinched whiteness around the bridge of his nose, refusals to explain his whereabouts or give reasons for what he did. My tape recorder--admittedly tapeless and not even plugged in but nevertheless my tape recorder--began to appear places: under the dining room table at dinner, in the back seat of the car, under our bed, in the drawer of the mal table. Vance would, when confronted, look blankly at the tape recorder and at us. Then he would pretend to look at his watch. [...]