An announcement: "The people who are going to make the statement were held up."

A radio tuned to a police channel squawks. A girl in a yellow dress. a golden watch medallion and brown Clairol hair. comes into the room and sits next to a young reporter with executive sideburns. She has a big bag looped around her shoulder. and large square-framed yellow-golden metallic glasses. The Club Room is hot and close.

Cameraman have knobs and buttons to twirl. Reporters drink water and talk.

"Jesse Jackson's gonna call up and call it all off. He's the one who calls all of these things off. If you call me a racist pig for that one. I'll . . ." said the man at the first chair to the black reporter.

"You'll die before I call you a racist pig."

Many laugh without realizing that the exchange makes no sense. You can hear the teeth grinding. the television cameras are still. A sound man in a turtleneck opens a window, the klieg lights are tested again while a foghorn from the lake sounds over the growing murmur.

The radical press is quiet. A bearded man in a work-shirt and with tape on the bottom of his tennis shoes sits cross-legged on the floor and bows his head.

Suddenly four Weathermen slide into the room in a blur of jeans. army field jackets, and a green silk bandana. Two are girls.

"We're from SDS and we've come to make a statement. There will be a brief question period afterwards."

"How brief?" yells out the black reporter.

"Brief!" spits back SDS.

"How brief?" he yells again.

"Brief!" says SDS.

"Well, if we can't ask questions, there's just no point in this press conference. See you later." And all the city reporters at the front of the table start to get up and go.

"Look. if you assholes would sit down and quit screwing around we can get this press conference over with." roars another reporter. "Please go ahead with your statement," he says to SDS.