Speaking Truth to Power - Anita Hill [62]
Both reporters had recounted to me so closely what had transpired to date that I was sure they had the statement or would soon, regardless of my actions. At some point during numerous telephone calls, I told both Phelps and Totenberg that I wanted proof that they had the document. And while Totenberg exhibited either feigned or real exasperation with my reluctance, Phelps seemed to understand and called to suggest a deal. His Senate source would give him the information for me to confirm, if I gave the source my permission. I refused. On Saturday afternoon a frustrated Phelps called with details about my statement. I confirmed only the details he had and refused to provide more. Phelps’ story ran on Sunday, October 6, in the morning edition of News day, but the presses ran on Saturday, and the story went out over the wires that evening.
Totenberg telephoned after Phelps on Saturday and read the opening paragraph of my statement, confirming what I already knew. The press wanted the story badly, and there was nothing I could do to stop them. If she had it, eventually so would others. So, from my office, I granted a taped interview with Totenberg to air on Sunday morning.
For the remainder of that Saturday, I telephoned family to inform them about the story. “Did you send a statement to the Senate? Is the story true?” my mother asked. This was the first she had heard of it. Afterward, I located my nephew Eric, who had been doing high school recruiting for the college on campus that day. He knew about the FBI’s visit. “The press has the story,” was all that I could say. “How did they find out? Are you all right?” he wondered. For the next few weeks his innocently confused look would haunt me. We were best of friends, and I knew that this would hit him nearly as hard as it did me.
Despite being consumed by the events of the day, I tried to go about my regular routine. That evening, in tax professor Mark Gillett’s van, a group of my colleagues and friends went together to a yearly law school minority recruitment dinner. I sat with one of the law school alumni, Melvin Hall, and some potential students. I ate my dinner quietly, thinking about but never raising the matter. Returning home in the van, I told the group to expect the NPR report the following day. I gave them the substance of the story but few details. Their mood was quiet, concerned. No one knew what to say or what to expect. Even I could not predict the storm that was about to overtake the law school’s usual calm.
Tim Phelps’ story in Newsday alerted other members of the press. And starting after midnight, a reporter from CBS called my home every half hour. I gave up the idea of sleeping and got out of bed about 3:00 A.M. I knew that before long, especially once the story aired on public radio, other reporters