Funerals--even celebrities' funerals--don't make for particularly exciting stories. The ceremonies are usually private, and the mourners solemn, not very talkative.

Still, reporting Monday's funeral of Thomas P. "Tip" O'Neill Jr. was anything but a somber experience.

The day started at 7:45 a.m. at the White Hen Pantry in Porter Square, where Crimson reporter met Crimson photographer for the cold walk down Massachusetts Avenue to Saint John the Evangelist Church in North Cambridge. On the way, a Boston Police Bomb Squad van sped by, followed closely by two squad cars.

By 8 a.m., upon reaching the church, Cambridge and state police had blocked off Mass. Ave. with 2,500 feet of iron fencing. Parked cars left unattended were towed (potential bomb threats). All pedestrians were steered away from the area surrounding the church.

On the steps of the church, more than a dozen television cameras were already set up and photographers and members of the print media were taking their places. A state trooper with a bomb-sniffing Labrador retriever was scouring the church grounds.

At 8:10 the head of the advance Secret Service team for Vice President Al Gore '69 announced that all members of the media had to produce identification and social security numbers in order to receive a press credential. A handful of other agents inspected all camera bags and electronic equipment for bombs, weapons or miscellaneous explosive devices.

With Mass. Ave. barricaded at both ends, the thoroughfare was empty. At 8:30 a bus, with no lights and a sign which read "OUT OF SERVICE," stopped in front of the church. Approximately 50 Secret Service agents, most wearing the infamous standard-issue trenchcoats and all with earpieces in place, stepped out and proceeded to the rear of the church. They were professionals--stoic and unflinching in the below-zero-wind-chill air. The agents conducted a "sweep" of the church and stationed agents inside and out.

By 9 a.m. the members of the media were cold and bored. No one could go for coffee or food because "the area had been secured." Once outside the iron gates, which were to hold back the crowd of 700 mourners, there was no return to the press area.

9:15: Down the deserted street proceeded a motorcade of minivans, all bearing noticeably few markings. Fifteen minutes earlier, the vice president had landed at the Bedford, Mass., airfield. These were his advance agents.

By 9:30 the wind had picked up and the sun had started hiding behind intermittent clouds. The press corps was getting colder. Were there any reporters inside the church in the warmth? Oh yes, a few.

At the wishes of the O'Neill family, all print media were kept outside in the cold except for one reporter each from The New York Times, The Boston Globe, The Boston Herald, The Associated Press, and the Cambridge Chronicle.

Reuters? Too bad. U.P.I.? Sorry. The L.A. Times? Nope. The Miami Herald? No admittance.

Needless to say, a Crimson reporter's prospects for getting inside the church to witness the funeral did not look promising. That, however, never stops an intrepid reporter in search of a story.

First try: Crimson reporter walks in the church, right past two police officers and a Secret Service agent. No questions, no problem. The reporter sashays up next to a 50-something man who, pen and pad in hand, also looks like a reporter.

The man introduces himself: "Adam Clymer, New York Times."

Crimson reporter: "Oh my God. You are a God."

Clymer: "No, I'm just a newspaper reporter."

Crimson reporter and Clymer talk briefly about The Crimson. A woman, acting on the wishes of the O' Neill family, ejects the Crimson reporter. Clymer promises to share any "color" he sees inside with the Crimson reporter.

Outside, the Crimson reporter is very excited. But it is still cold and he would like to ask the Times reporter if he will have lunch with him. A second foray in to the church is in order. This one was less successful.

Two feet in side the door, a hand takes the Crimson reporter by the shoulder. The reporter turns around. Yup, it's a Secret Service agent.

"Press?" asks the agent.

"Yes," says the Crimson reporter.

"Outside," directs the agent.

Back in the press pen constructed by barricades on the church steps, reporters are getting ready for the arrival of O'Neill's invited guests. Sen. Edward M. Kennedy '54-'56 shows up, first granting copious interviews. Rep. Joseph P. Kennedy II is next. Then the celebrity parade begins: U.S. Sen. Robert Dole (R-Kan.), U.S. Rep. Dan Rostenkowski (D-Ill.), Cambridge Mayor Kenneth E. Reeves '72, Gov. William F. Weld '66, state Attorney General Scott Harshbarger '64, State Senate President William Bulger, as well as myriad local politicians, including the entire Cambridge City Council.

A handful of Boston Globe executives and columnists also showed up. Mike Barnicle, the Globe's tough-talking, let's-get-into-the-fray metro columnist is among the group.

"He used to be a reporter," shouts out an unidentified but cold writer--clearly not a Barnicle fan--from the press pen.

Gore and former presidents Gerald R. Ford and Jimmy Carter show up soon thereafter. The sad procession begins as O'Neill's hearse pulls up in from of the church. The casket is carried inside. The church doors close.

As soon as O'Neill's coffin is across the threshold, the entire press pool and about thirty Secret Service agents headed for the White Hen Pantry. Inside, a girl working behind the counter says in response to a reporter's question: "Yes, it is definitely not your average day at the White Hen Pantry."

The line for the coffee is ten agents deep. The Secret Service also seems to have a monopoly on the bathroom. Extra trays of doughnuts and pastries are brought out from the back by the store's owner, a five-foot tall Asian American man who insists on having his picture taken with local news anchors who are warming themselves with his coffee.

A Channel 4 reporter is discussing with a secret service agent what constitutes the ideal number of pairs of socks on such a cold morning. "I think three is just about right," says the anchor.

Another government agent enters the store cracking jokes about how--in light of the temperatures--he is going to purchase a pint of Ben and Jerry's ice cream.

A group of agents, five-sided pins (like the Pentagon) in place, tell Nixon jokes by the frozen foods.

One agent: "I heard Carter took Amtrak."

Second agent: "I wouldn't be surprised if Nixon took the T."

Third agent: "He doesn't still get protection, does he?"