254 AMERICAN SPYDispleased by my vague and evasive answers, Lovitz mercilessly turned
up the heat.
“Did you fart?” he asked me, for the first of several times.
“No.”
Lovitz then turned to my brother-in-law and asked, “John, did you fart?”
“No.”
“Huh. Must have been me,” was his response. Every time.
Despite Lovitz’s ruthless use of these comedy-enhanced interroga-
tion techniques, I never broke cover or admitted to working for the CIA.
I was caught off guard by his aggressive line of questioning, but I thought
I handled things pretty well, under the circumstances. My secret would
remain safe, for now.
The next day, Stacy, my daughter, and I arrived early for SNL’s Friday
rehearsal at Rockefeller Center. Before the rehearsal began, Lovitz intro-
duced us to some of his fellow cast members. Dana Carvey was smitten
with our little angel, and he did a hilarious Popeye impression for her. My
daughter was nonplussed, but I loved it. I also fought the urge to say, “What
she really wants to see is Church Lady.”
On Saturday night, Stacy and I attended an unforgettable live taping
of SNL. Musical guests were the inimitable Randy Newman, and Mark
Knopfler of Dire Straits fame, and together they performed “It’s Money
That Matters” and “Dixie Flyer.” On Sunday, Stacy, baby girl, and I
returned to our decidedly unglamorous routines in Washington.
Months later, I was trying not to fall asleep while watching SNL at home
one Saturday night. I sprang back to full consciousness when a skit came on
about a CIA Christmas party. All of the guests were asking probing ques-
tions of each other and receiving vague answers in response. The skit was
about a lot of cocktail party conversation that went nowhere. The audi-
ence seemed to appreciate the humor, but it was making me a little uncom-
fortable. Then it struck me: Was that skit Jon Lovitz’s idea? Was it inspired by our
afternoon of spy talk and fart jokes?
I never did find out the answer to that question, but I don’t believe in
coincidences.