When the President's Daughter Went Missing

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President Bartlet (Martin Sheen): Would you consider, instead of living in France with your boyfriend for three months, staying here, living in your room and being a candy striper or surfing?

Zoey (Elisabeth Moss): A candy striper?

President Bartlet: Or surfing. You could spend the summer working in a pet shop. We could play Yahtzee and watch movies at night.

Zoey: Dad, what fantasy is it that's going through your head right now?

President Bartlet: What daughters would do their whole lives if I had my way.

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For most families, college commencement is a great occasion — a time of pride in the accomplishment of one of their own.

It is sure to be the same for a president's family — but with the added anxiety that comes whenever someone from the first family is involved. There is always a chance, however slim it may be, that something will happen to the graduate.

I don't know how many children of sitting presidents have graduated from college in our history, but I do know that nothing has happened to mar those occasions. They have all gone off as smooth as clockwork.

Such was not the case in the episode of West Wing that first aired on this night in 2003, "Commencement." The president's youngest daughter, Zoey (Elisabeth Moss), was graduating from Georgetown University, and her father (Martin Sheen) was to deliver an address at commencement. He was still wrestling with what to say when the big day arrived.

And there were a lot of other things going on. Toby (Richard Schiff) and his ex–wife were expecting a baby at any time, and Toby wanted them to remarry. He wanted it so much he had taken the step of investing in a house that his ex had told him was her dream home.

Primarily, though, Washington Post reporter Danny Concannon (Timothy Busfield) had gotten wind of something the president really wanted to keep under wraps — the fact that, one year prior, he had ordered the assassination of the defense minister of a fictional Middle Eastern country who had been planning terrorist acts against the United States — among them destroying the Golden Gate Bridge.

At the time, the White House had manipulated news flow to bolster the impression that the United States had not been involved. That had eroded considerably, though.

Of course, there was also the matter of finding a replacement for the vice president, who had just resigned.

If that seems implausible, remember that within a decade of the passage of the 25th Amendment, which provided a procedure for filling a vacancy in the vice presidency, that procedure would be used not once but twice. It hasn't been used since, but odds are that it will one day. Nevertheless, no one thought back in 1967 that it would be used in 1973, when Gerald Ford was selected to replace Spiro Agnew, and 1974, when Nelson Rockefeller was chosen to replace Ford after Ford became president.

History is like that. When one event occurs, people know it probably will play a role in another event, but they never know how soon that will be. The Kennedy assassination in 1963 was the catalyst for the 25th Amendment. Kennedy's successor, Lyndon Johnson, served with no vice president for more than a year — until he had won the 1964 election with Hubert Humphrey as his running mate.

Humphrey, therefore, was the occupant of the vice presidency when the 25th Amendment was approved, and few people probably thought there was a need for it. After all, the nation had been through such periods before, but the 25th Amendment spelled out that procedure — along with providing a line of succession.

Back to the West Wing timeline, which dealt with the 25th Amendment in the last episode of the 2002–2003 season.

Fast forward a year. Five suspected terrorists who had been under surveillance had disappeared, and the feds were under heightened alert.

Thrown into the mix was the fact that Zoey was planning to leave for France after commencement to spend three months in the French countryside.

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But she never got there. At a party on graduation night, she was abducted and one of the Secret Service agents assigned to protect her was shot and killed.

West Wing had a reputation for being "The Left Wing" for its political slant, but the truth was that it was extraordinarily realistic. Even conservatives had to concede that.

And while it may seem unlikely that a president's child could become ensnared in a global political situation such as the one depicted 15 years ago tonight, it is really no less likely than many of the things we have witnessed in our nation's history.

Was There Life on Mars?

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Matthew Perry only made three appearances on West Wing as Joe Quincy, the new deputy counsel. His second appearance was on this night in 2003 — ostensibly his first day on the job. He interviewed for the job in the previous week's episode; while he wasn't actually hired in that episode, it was strongly implied that he would be. In November 2003 he made his final appearance on the show, approaching the chief justice, who was in poor health, about stepping down.

On this night in 2003, Perry's character did a little detective work that ended up bringing down the vice president (Tim Matheson). The whole thing got started because the veep had been having an affair with a prominent reporter who had been an anonymous source for the Washington Post's science editor that the White House was concealing a report that supposedly indicated that there may have been, at some time, life on Mars.

This report would have been under the supervision of the vice president, but classifying the report would have been the responsibility of the Department of Defense.

Sounds ridiculous, doesn't it? Well, that was C.J.'s (Allison Janney) initial response, too.

But, as the audience learned later in the episode, the vice president was one of those guys who like to brag to come across as more important. Seems sort of unnecessary for a man who has risen to the position of vice president. It's also a bit naive for a man who participated in two national political campaigns as well as however many races for office in his home state to be telling something like that to a reporter, even — or perhaps especially — one with whom he was intimate.

This reporter, by the way, had just been the recipient of a seven–figure book deal.

Perry started putting tidbits of information together, then discovered in the White House telephone logs records of numerous conversations between the vice president and this reporter. He brought this to C.J.'s attention, and she recognized the severity of the situation.

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That led to a visit to the vice president's office from C.J., Joe Quincy, Josh (Bradley Whitford) and Toby (Richard Schiff). In this meeting, the vice president learned what those four already knew and was advised to talk things over with his family.

Whether he actually did meet with his family was only implied in his answer to a question from the president, who asked if he had spoken with his wife. He did, however, meet with the president (Martin Sheen) and the chief of staff (John Spencer), both of whom urged him to weather the storm.

But he would have none of it. He had decided to resign because he didn't want his family to be exposed to the mudfight that would follow.

West Wing fans may have thought they had heard the last from the vice president. Not so. He would return as a candidate for the presidential nomination in a few years.

A Not-So-Quiet Evening at the White House

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"There may not be anything anymore that outpaces the hatred the right feels for the left or the tonnage of disrespect the left feels for the right."

Josh (Bradley Whitford)

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I've only been to the White House once in my whole life. I was a child, and my family took a tour of the White House.

Consequently, I can't vouch personally for the accuracy of the following statement, but I presume, at least from having watched TV's West Wing, that there is really no such thing as a quiet evening at the White House. Something is always happening, whether it makes the newscasts or not.

Nevertheless, in the episode of the series that first aired on this night in 2003, "Evidence of Things Not Seen," an uneventful evening is precisely what the staffers were trying to have. They had organized a game of poker, during which C.J. (Allison Janney) kept trying to convince her colleagues that it was possible to stand an egg vertically at the exact moment of the vernal equinox.

That assertion was repeatedly met with scorn. It was disputed by everyone (and every internet site that could be found) and was prompted by the fact that the story was taking place on the vernal equinox.

(Now, I realize that many people do not know what the vernal equinox is, but I will not devote any more space to it because that would prevent those of you who really want to know from looking it up yourselves — and it would likely bore the rest.)

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The primary events in the episode were (1) a shooting incident in which a gunman opened fire on the White House, apparently hoping to be killed by responding officers (in what is known as "suicide by cop"), and (2) Josh's (Bradley Whitford) interview with a candidate for a position in the counsel's office (Matthew Perry).

Oh, and there was also the matter of an unmanned spy plane that had crashed in a remote part of Russia. The president (Martin Sheen) tried to convince the Russians that they had not been spying on Russia but had been spying for them.

Sounds complicated, doesn't it? Well, international matters frequently are. And the Russians didn't buy it.

The shooting occurred when some staffers were in the press room trying to hit a specific row of seats with playing cards. It wasn't clear if the gunman knew where he was shooting, but it turned out that the gun was aimed at the windows of the press room. One struck a window very close to where C.J. was standing.

The president was in the Oval Office at the time, where the windows are equipped with bulletproof glass. Anyone who wants to attack the president when he is in the Oval Office, as the president observed, will have to do so from within, not from Pennsylvania Avenue.

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Evidently, the windows in the press room were not bulletproof.

That put the West Wing in lockdown — which prolonged both the poker game and the job interview.

Josh decided to recommend Perry for the job, even though he admitted to being a registered Republican who had lied on a questionnaire he had been given and consequently couldn't sign it. What was the lie? Well, the question was, "Have you ever done anything that would reflect poorly on the president?"

What had he done? He hadn't voted for the president.

Just your typical — or should that be atypical? — evening at the White House.

The Cerebral Nature of the West Wing

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Sam (Rob Lowe): I don't know how you do it.

President (Martin Sheen): You have a lot of help. You listen to everybody and then you call the play. Sam, you're going to run for president one day. Don't be scared. You can do it. I believe in you. [moves chess piece] That's checkmate.

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I was a fan of West Wing when it was on the air, seldom missed an episode. I liked them all, but the episode that was first shown on this night in 2002, "Hartsfield's Landing," has always been a special favorite of mine, probably because it was so cerebral.

After 15 years, I would say it has aged well.

West Wing was always a cerebral show, but the episode "Hartsfield's Landing" was especially so. It was also a great illustration of how effective presidents gather information to make decisions.

Presidents don't do that in the same way, of course. Each president has been an individual and thus has had his own way of doing things. America being the diverse country it is, no president's approach is going to be favored by everyone — nor will one president's approach necessarily work for another president — and, of course, times change, circumstances change, people change. Still there are always lessons to be learned from presidencies that are judged to have been successes — as well as presidencies that are judged to have been failures.

Jed Bartlet (Martin Sheen) was a complex president, and he used a variety of methods to make decisions, but they always boiled down to what he told Sam (Rob Lowe) in this episode: "You listen to everybody and then you call the play."

He picked Sam's brain and Toby's (Richard Schiff) over a couple of games of chess in this episode. He had just returned from a trip to India, where he had been given some chess boards. He had decided to give them to the staffers as gifts and proposed to play them simultaneously, Sam in his office and Toby in the Oval Office.

As I say, the president picked their brains but on different matters. It kept him aware of things he may have forgotten. It was his way of "seeing the whole board" — a good chess analogy. With Sam, he discussed a standoff between China and Taiwan. With Toby, he discussed their recent conversation about whether the president was still trying to live up to his deceased father's expectations.

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Seen from the perspective of the 2016 election and its aftermath, this episode that was written more than a decade earlier offered some bad advice to future Democrats, particularly those who may have heeded it last year.

As they discussed the president's likely opponents in the upcoming general election, Toby told Bartlet, "Make this election about smart and not. Make it about engaged and not, qualified and not."

In general, that is good advice, but, with the benefit of recent hindsight, I would add to that, "Don't think for a second that excuses you from having to put forth an agenda for the future."

The West Wing was a busy place, as I have no doubt the real one is, and there were always minor stories going on. "Hartsfield's Landing" was no exception.

While the president was having these power chess games with Sam and Toby, Josh (Bradley Whitford) was aware of the fact that New Hampshire was holding its first–in–the–nation primary that day, and a tiny town called Hartsfield's Landing (clearly inspired by Dixville Notch) would be announcing its vote total shortly after midnight. The handful of votes cast in that tiny hamlet would dominate the national news for more than 20 hours — until the votes in the rest of New Hampshire were counted.

With New Hampshire being the president's home state, Josh wanted the president to score a comfortable victory in Hartsfield's Landing so he instructed his assistant Donna (Janel Moloney) to call a couple she knew who had been supporters of the president the first time but were against him this time. He wanted them to change their votes to improve the president's showing in Hartsfield's Landing.

Donna couldn't call from the West Wing since it was federal property so she took a cell phone out into the freezing February night and called New Hampshire from the park across the street, lobbying for the president right up until the time the couple left to cast their midnight votes.

In the end, Josh gave in. "Let 'em vote," he came outside to tell Donna, and they went back to the White House to await the returns from Hartsfield's Landing.

There was also a feud between C.J. (Allison Janney) and Charlie (Dule Hill) over a missing copy of the presidential schedule that is better watched than described. If you haven't seen it, do so. Trust me.

Speaking of C.J. ...

One of the things I really liked about the West Wing was its devotion to detail. Oh, it was always possible to nitpick, but it was usually on tiny points that wouldn't be obvious to most people. For example, in this episode, which featured chess so prominently, only chess experts would have been able to tell if Bartlet referred to chess moves that were real or fictional or if he used terminology that was real or fictional. To a non–aficionado, if it sounds legitimate, that is enough.

My father loves to play chess, but he wouldn't know if the "Evans Gambit" is real (it is) or if there is such a thing as the "Fibonacci opening" (there isn't). For that matter, I didn't either until I did some research — and Dad was the one who taught me to play.

Sometimes when I was watching West Wing I couldn't tell if I was watching a dramatization or a documentary. None of the events on the West Wing were real, of course, but the show's depictions of events and TV broadcasts were always perfect.

"Hartsfield's Landing" provided an ideal example at the very end, one that was foretold by C.J. earlier in the episode when she spoke of how she liked the tradition of the people of that little town gathering together to cast their votes at midnight.

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"They all gather at once ... it's nice. There's a registrar of voters. The names are called in alphabetical order. They put a folded piece of paper into a box. ... Those 42 people are teaching us something about ourselves, that freedom is the glory of God, that democracy is its birthright and that our vote matters."

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As the activity continued to swirl and percolate in the West Wing, even at midnight, the television monitors showed the proceedings in Hartsfield's Landing.

On the screen the name of an obviously young woman was called by the registrar. As she brought forth her ballot, the onlookers were told that she was 18 and was voting for the first time. The room burst into applause.

Sleepless in the White House

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"I don't remember having to explain to Italians that our problem wasn't with them but with Mussolini. Why does the U.S. have to take every Arab country out for an ice cream cone? They'll like us when we win."

Toby (Richard Schiff)

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Regular viewers of the West Wing must have recognized Adam Arkin's character when he appeared in the opening scene of the episode that first aired on this night in 2002, "Night Five." He was the psychiatrist who treated Josh (Bradley Whitford) for his post–traumatic stress disorder brought about by the assassination attempt that was the cliffhanger conclusion of Season 1.

Arkin (and the audience) assumed he had been summoned to the White House to help Josh through a personal crisis. But, as he was led around the White House, it dawned on him that there was more to it than that. A lot more.

He wasn't there to see Josh. He was there to see the president (Martin Sheen).

The president was having trouble sleeping. He hadn't slept in four nights. Arkin's character wasn't a specialist in sleep disorders, but the president knew he had helped Josh, and the president was dealing with some ticklish matters at the time — the recent disclosure of his multiple sclerosis and his re–election campaign were foremost among them — so he had decided to consult the psychiatrist. He believed Arkin's character could be counted upon to be discreet.

They went through potential factors — physical, environment, lifestyle — and eliminated everything but psychological factors.

While they were zeroing in on the source of the problem, there were other issues going on. C.J. (Allison Janney) was trying to find a reporter who had gone missing and was feared dead in the Congo. Toby the speech writer (Richard Schiff) was facing brushback over a speech he had written that the president was to deliver at the U.N. One of Toby's harshest critics was his ex–wife, a liberal congresswoman, over the phrase "Islamic fanaticism."

In other words, an average chaos–filled week at the West Wing.

In their conversation, the president and Arkin got closer to identifying the root of the president's sleeping issues. Turned out that he had unresolved issues with his father. It had been a tumultuous relationship and some issues had been stirred up by the president's conversation with Toby on the night of the Iowa caucuses.

Toby had told him that he was still seeking the approval of his father, who was long dead and had been abusive to his son in life.

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Arkin wrapped up the session and assured the president that he was ready to help in any way he could — but it was clear that more sessions would be needed.

In the seasons ahead, there would be other occasions to explore the president's relationship with his father — which I always felt produced some of the series' most impressive and insightful exchanges — but that was due to existing conditions with which viewers were aware. There were some times, though, when the West Wing seemed to be prescient, exploring issues that weren't issues when the episodes were filmed. The West Wing has been off the air for more than a decade, and some of those issues have emerged.

It is time to give credit where credit is due.

This episode, for example, mentioned Islamic fanaticism, which is a red–flag phrase for some folks today, but 15 years ago, with the 9–11 attacks still fresh in everyone's minds, I don't think it received nearly the same response.

Perhaps the story of Sam (Rob Lowe), White House counsel Ainsley Hayes (Emily Procter) and a temp in the West Wing would have. When Ainsley came in one night in a gown she had worn to a Washington party, Sam remarked that she could "make a good dog break his leash." The temp took offense and told Sam so. Sam spent the rest of the episode trying to prove that he was not a sexist; I don't recall a reaction to the dialogue, but it was designed to make people think. I know it made me think.

Sexism, though, has been an issue in this country for decades while Islamic fanaticism is something of a newcomer to the debate.

Reaching for the Stars

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"In 1940 our armed forces weren't among the 12 most formidable in the world, but obviously we were going to fight a big war. And Roosevelt said the U.S. would produce 50,000 planes in the next four years. Everyone thought it was a joke — and it was 'cause we produced 100,000 planes. Gave our armed forces an armada that would block out the sun."

Sam (Rob Lowe)

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I always enjoyed the West Wing, in large part because it usually managed to educate as it entertained, especially in its first three or four seasons. People who watched the West Wing regularly — in the third season, during which "100,000 Airplanes" premiered on this night in 2002, the show ranked #10 — were frequently exposed to things that most people don't know.

Often that knowledge focused on American history, how things are done and why they are done that way, but the information didn't come exclusively from history or politics. For example, when the time came for the president (Martin Sheen) to acknowledge that he had multiple sclerosis, many viewers learned things about that medical condition that they did not know.

But on this night in 2002, "100,000 Airplanes" stayed on topic, you might say. It gave viewers some insight into the annual rite of creating the president's state of the union address — with a dollop of history on top.

Basically the episode took place on the night of the president's state of the union address, framed by his recent congressional censure for his handling of his medical condition and his upcoming campaign for re–election. The viewers watched Sam (Rob Lowe), one of the president's speechwriters, as he observed what was happening and reflected on the process of creating the speech for a Vanity Fair reporter who had been assigned to cover him that night. The reporter (Traylor Howard) happened to be a young woman with whom Sam had once been engaged.

To say it was an awkward evening at times is being charitable.

But it gave Sam the chance to talk about a tidbit from the original speech that didn't make the cut — a call to cure cancer within 10 years. The president seemed sincere in his desire to challenge his fellow Americans to commit themselves to that goal — but the West Wing staff almost unanimously believed that it was an attempt to deflect attention from the president's problems and would be perceived that way by the voters.

All except Sam. He told the president that he thought it was a good idea for several reasons, among them that government "should be optimistic," that it should be about more than entitlement checks and budgets.

And that is a worthy concept — that government's priority should be to serve the people, not itself. If you look at the 2016 election results, from the presidential race on down, I think you will see that the majority of Americans agree.

But ultimately the idea was scrapped because the administration couldn't provide a realistic monetary figure that would be necessary to fund such an endeavor. In fact, they really couldn't answer many questions at all.

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Oh, that dollop of history I mentioned earlier was the comment Sam made about FDR that you can find at the top of this post.

An example of executive overreach that paid off.

A Decade Without the West Wing

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Bartlet (Martin Sheen): How's the speech?

Santos (Jimmy Smits): It's OK. A couple of good lines. There's no 'Ask not what your country can do for you ...'

Bartlet: JFK really screwed us with that one, didn't he?

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There are some milestones that seem to be about right, and some milestones that don't seem right.

Tonight is the 10th anniversary of the final episode of the West Wing. In my mind, that event ranks as one of the latter. I can't believe it has been a decade since that show went off the air.

For a long time, it was the only TV show that I watched regularly — and I do mean regularly. I almost never missed it.

And the episode that aired on this night in 2006 was a lot like the ones that preceded it. It told what would have been a linear story — if it was telling an actual story. It was the last chapter in the story of the Bartlet administration, the perfect way to finish the series.

As I mentioned last week, I would have liked for there to have been one more season, kind of a postscript to the story that told the viewers what each of the characters had been doing.

That was not done, but there were a few surprises in store for viewers. Toby (Richard Schiff) received a presidential pardon — I think most West Wing viewers suspected that would happen, but the outgoing president (Martin Sheen) dragged out his decision.

And the incoming president picked a one–time rival for the party nomination to be his vice president since his running mate in the series (John Spencer) died of a heart attack on Election Day.

Before the curtain fell on the series, though, the West Wing audience was treated to one last round of the show's snappy dialogue.

One of my favorite exchanges came about midway through when the president–elect (Jimmy Smits) and his wife (Teri Polo) were on their way to the inaugural festivities.

"Nine inaugural balls," the soon–to–be first lady said. "You think I'm supposed to wear nine gowns?"

"Do you have nine gowns?" the soon–to–be president asked.

"No," she replied.

"Well, then, probably not," he said.

(Actually, it seems to me that Inaugural Day is a little late to be sweating that kind of detail.)

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I always liked the snappy dialogue, but, I must admit, I wondered something when I heard Mr. and Mrs. Santos speaking in the West Wing manner. Had they really morphed into President and Mrs. Bartlet?

I mean, I always thought that one of the benefits of democracy was getting different personalities with a change of administrations.

Still, I would recommend watching this episode before the next president takes the oath of office in January. The West Wing did an excellent job of showing viewers what happens on Inaugural Day — the behind–the–scenes stuff. While the new president is taking the oath and delivering the Inaugural Address — and then watching the Inaugural Parade — an army of workers descends upon the White House and moves the first family's belongings out and the new first family's belongings in.

I've heard that their work is so thorough that, when the new first family returns to the White House later on Inaugural Day, it is as if all their possessions had been magically transported to precisely where they were expected to be in the residence portion of the White House. That is especially important if the new president has children, who will want to easily find their favorite toys when they return to their new residence.

I guess the thinking is that a new first family's lives will be disrupted enough by their new positions in American life. Their private lives should offer some continuity and sanctuary from the outside world.

The two people between whom Americans will likely have to select the next president have no young children who would be moving in to the White House with them. They do have grandchildren — those grandchildren most likely would not be moving in with them, but they could be expected to be visitors from time to time.

How frequently they would visit might determine whether those workers would need to prepare special rooms for them.

A gentle reminder that, when Americans elect a president, they get that president's family in the bargain.

An Administrative Change of Life

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On this night 10 years ago, the West Wing was winding down its seven–year run. A new president was about to take over, and Martin Sheen's crew was making post–administration plans, both personal and professional.

I was in the midst of my own transition, as most West Wing fans were, I suppose. I was wondering what I would do with myself after the series went off the air. What I saw on this night in 2006 made me wish there was going to be another season so I could see what happened with those characters after they finished what C.J. Cregg (Allison Janney) called "the first line of my obituary."

We sort of got a peek into that in the final episode — but I will write about that next Saturday on the 10th anniversary of the West Wing's series finale.

The viewers were getting set up for that with the episode that aired 10 years ago tonight, "Institutional Memory." As I say, everyone in Martin Sheen's administration was preparing to vacate for Jimmy Smits' incoming administration.

But not entirely. Some folks from the Bartlet (Sheen) administration were being asked to stay on — chief among them being C.J., who started the series as press secretary and ended it as chief of staff. Now the Santos (Smits) administration wanted to make use of her experience.

The trouble was so did a wealthy mogul — a Steve Jobs or Bill Gates sort of character — who wanted to use his wealth to benefit people and offered to give C.J. $10 billion to "fix" whatever she thought was the greatest problem of her time.

That was the offer that appealed to her, but Smits had given her the "your president needs you" speech — OK, it was a Reader's Digest condensed version, but that took away none of its impact — especially on the relationship between C.J. and Danny the reporter (Timothy Busfield), whose intriguing interaction through the run of the series was finally beginning to blossom in the final episodes.

Understandably, though, C.J. was conflicted by her professional life, and Danny had to make her understand that he would be supportive of whatever she wanted to do. He just wanted to be part of the conversation.

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Of course, as a presidential administration winds down, there are many conversations going on, not the least of which concerns the subject of presidential pardons.

Being the history buff that I am, one of the things I always liked about the West Wing was the way it educated its viewers while entertaining them. Sometimes the education was rather blunt, but it was subtle in this episode of the West Wing. Outgoing presidents routinely issue pardons, and the subject of a pardon for former White House speechwriter Toby (Richard Schiff), who was fired after he leaked classified information to save the lives of some astronauts, was the subject of conversation. Toby's ex–wife Andie (Kathleen York) was one of those who lobbied C.J. for a pardon.

When he discussed the subject of pardons with C.J. — and after confirming that Toby's name did not appear on the list of applicants for presidential pardons — Charlie (Dule Hill) casually remarked that the president "could do whatever he wants to in this area," including adding his own names to the list of pardons.

Sometimes in our modern political climate it is hard to remember just how prescient the West Wing often was. Toby's national defense leak was only one example. More than one writer has observed how closely the election that put Barack Obama in the White House mirrored the election of Jed Bartlet's successor in the series' final season.

C.J. went to visit Toby, who confirmed in a rather awkward exchange that he had not applied for a pardon, and then they had the kind of conversation that flows easily between friends — and, as Andie pointed out to C.J., they had been friends for a long time, long before the leak.

C.J. and Danny were friends before they were lovers. The challenge they faced in the episode that aired a decade ago tonight suggested, as the final credits began to roll, that they taking tentative steps toward being a mutually supportive couple.

Maybe one day the West Wing will have a reunion show, and we can find out more about what became of those characters after the next week's season finale.

Letting Bartlet Be Bartlet

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Mrs. Landingham (Kathryn Joosten): You don't get enough roughage.

Bartlet (Martin Sheen): I know I'd like to beat you senseless with a head of cabbage. I know that for damn sure.

Mrs. Landingham: Once again, you display an immaturity about vegetables that I think is not at all presidential.

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I cannot honestly say that I know who said, "Let Reagan be Reagan," or what the circumstances were when it was said. I want to say that it was said when he was trying get Robert Bork on the Supreme Court — but I really don't know that for certain.

Perhaps it originated even earlier.

Whenever it was said, it was almost certainly said by one of Ronald Reagan's advisers at a time when Reagan's supporters were under the impression (whether rightly or wrongly) that he was being stymied by some people, and they wanted him to be free to say what he really believed.

It was a rallying cry that I heard from time to time during Reagan's presidency in the 1980s; in the intervening years, it has become something of a cliche, suggesting that a chief executive — a governor or a president — needs to be more assertive and proactive in his advocacy of (or opposition to) something or someone. Anyway, it was a pretty good inspiration for an episode of the West Wing that first aired 15 years ago tonight.

The overall theme of the story was the White House wasn't accomplishing much, and the West Wing staff was drifting into a malaise, just sort of spinning its wheels. At one point, Josh (Bradley Whitford) observed to Toby (Richard Schiff), "Our second year doesn't seem to be going a whole lot better than our first, does it?"

"No," Toby replied.

That really summed things up.

The episode began disarmingly with the president about to speak before an organization of trout fishermen, and speech writers Toby and Sam (Rob Lowe) discussing whether to change a reference to a "magnificent vista" that the president was supposed to be seeing at an outdoor event — because of what appeared to be an increasing chance of rain that might force the event indoors.

As it turned out, it did rain, and the event was moved indoors — but, after all their talk, neither Toby nor Sam changed the reference, and the president said it, anyway.

That was one side story. There were always side stories in West Wing episodes. Sometimes you really had to be on your toes to figure out their relevance to the overall theme before that relevance was revealed to the audience. In the interim, though, there was always snappy dialogue, like the exchange between Josh and his secretary Donna (Janel Moloney) after Josh had been informed by House Republicans that, if the president nominated the people he was likely to nominate for two openings on the Federal Election Commission, not only would they reject the nominees but they would send all sorts of pet bills to the president's desk, bills that he was sure not to like ... starting with one making English the official language of the United States.

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"Are we for it or against it?" Donna asked.

"Donna ..." Josh began.

"I mean, we're not in favor of making another language the official language, are we?" she asked. "Like Dutch or something?"

There was also a side story about gays in military — a topic which may seem a little dated now but was straight from the headlines in the morning paper in April 2000. The White House and the military representatives who were assigned to come to some sort of agreement were at an impasse when Admiral Fitzwallace (John Amos) dropped by.

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Fitzwallace asked the military reps what they thought about gays in the military, then proceeded to answer for them — or at least finish their answers for them. One said, "We're not prejudiced toward homosexuals."

"You just don't want to see them serving in the armed forces," Fitz said.

"No, sir, I don't," the military rep said.

"Because they pose a threat to unit discipline and cohesion."

"Yes, sir," the other rep said.

"That's what I think, too," the admiral said. "I also think the military wasn't designed to be an instrument of social change."

"Yes, sir," the first rep said.

"Problem with that," the admiral observed, "is that's what they were saying about me 50 years ago. Blacks shouldn't serve with whites. It would disrupt the unit. You know what? It did disrupt the unit. The unit got over it. The unit changed. I'm an admiral in the U.S. Navy and chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. Beat that with a stick."

But the main story had to do with media consultant Mandy (Moira Kelly), who had written a memo concerning the weaknesses and vulnerabilities of the president and the White House staff when she worked for one of the president's party rivals. The memo had been leaked after she went to work for the White House; she had no idea who had it, only that it was out there somewhere.

C.J. (Allison Janney) tried to find out who had the memo — and discovered that White House reporter Danny (Timothy Busfield) had it and was planning to write about it. It was clear early in the series that Danny had feelings for C.J., and I would venture to say that most West Wing viewers knew that C.J. harbored a simmering attraction to Danny beneath the surface.

But I really admired the writers on this episode. Danny and C.J. had a frank conversation about the relationship between the White House and the reporters who cover it, about what news is and is not — and, as a journalist, I appreciated it and found a lot in it that was true. It probably would have been easy for the writers to allow Danny to compromise his principles in order to curry favor with C.J. — and I have no doubt there are journalists who would do that.

Instead, both Danny and C.J. responded the way I would hope people in such a position would respond. Neither backed down, and both left the conversation with some grudging respect for the other.

The whole thing reached critical mass in the last scene, a showdown between the president and his chief of staff, Leo (John Spencer) that re–defined the objectives of the fictional Bartlet administration.

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"We're going to change the level of public debate in this country," Leo told the staffers. "And let that be our legacy."

And the stage was set for the first of the West Wing's incomparable season finales.

It's Been A Busy Day

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Even by the West Wing's own often frenetic standards, the episode that first aired 15 years ago tonight was very busy. I guess you could sort of get that idea from the title of the episode, "Six Meetings Before Lunch."

It is a good thing when the title of an episode gives you an idea of what to expect — but really only becomes clear in hindsight. It shows that the writers are big–picture guys. And the West Wing's writers definitely were big–picture guys.

Anyway, after an unproductive first year for the administration, speech writer Toby (Richard Schiff) refused to let anyone celebrate the nearly certain confirmation of a Supreme Court nominee until it was in the bag; that wasn't one of the meetings, just the way the episode began, but he was also the target of some rather intense lobbying from media consultant Mandy (Moira Kelly) who wanted two new pandas from China for the Washington zoo. Josh (Bradley Whitford) was interviewing a black candidate for assistant attorney general for civil rights who had been quoted about reparations for the descendants of slaves on a bookjacket, and the White House expected some problems with the conservatives on the House committee. Sam (Rob Lowe) was meeting with his sometime girlfriend (as well as full–time teacher and daughter of Leo [John Spencer]) about a position paper he wrote on school vouchers.

The other three meetings involved press secretary C.J. (Allison Janney), who had to meet with first daughter Zooey (Elisabeth Moss) who had attended a frat party where a drug dealer had been arrested; then Zooey had a run–in with a reporter. Then C.J. had to meet with Zooey's Secret Service bodyguard Gina (Jorja Fox), who had gotten between Zooey and the reporter, to get her side of the story — and, finally, she had to meet with the president (Martin Sheen). Gina couldn't tell her much; agents aren't allowed to discuss the behavior of their clients. "I can't do my job if she thinks she has to go behind my back," Gina explained.

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C.J. still found time to entertain the staff during their watch party for the Supreme Court vote with her lip synching to Ronny Jordan's "The Jackal." I later learned that Janney lip synched to songs to entertain her fellow cast members during production lulls. The writers decided to incorporate it into this episode. If you haven't seen it, watch it. Here.

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In the West Wing universe, C.J. had a reputation among the staffers. Her renditions of "The Jackal" were the stuff of legend, and I gather they frequently took precedence over everything else. In fact, while she was doing it, Josh tried to approach Toby about being given the task of working with the assistant attorney general nominee. "You're talking to me during 'The Jackal?'" he asked incredulously.

The episode that aired 15 years ago tonight was a great example of one of the things I really liked about the West Wing. Even with as many story lines going on at once as the show had in this episode, even though there were moments when it seemed chaotic (as it must seem at times to the real staff of the West Wing), everything came together nicely at the end.

C.J., having gathered all the information she could about Zooey, kept the president from storming down to the press room and turning a non–story into a big story. Only four people knew what had happened, she told the president. There was no reason it couldn't stay that way.

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Sam and Mallory wound up going to lunch together when Mallory learned that Sam really wasn't a supporter of school vouchers. She didn't believe it until her father told her — he also told her the paper she had seen was "opposition prep," in which the smartest guys were tapped to make the argument the opposition would make in a debate. Those guys make the president grow and improve.

And Josh learned some things about America.

The nominee for assistant attorney general essentially told him that America was meant to be a work in progress, a country always striving for but never quite reaching perfection. It seems to me that the last five or six years have shown those words to be prophetic. I can think of no comparable five–year period in my lifetime — or at any time in American history — when as many changes have been occurring in America as we have witnessed in these last five or six years.

Such a situation can bring pain and polarization, as it surely has, but it can also bear witness to good things, fragile things that need to be nurtured and encouraged to grow. It depends upon whether the people involved can rise above the pain and polarization.

The nominee for assistant attorney general showed Josh the back of the $1 bill, which shows an unfinished pyramid and the watchful eye of God hovering over it.

"We're meant to be unfinished," he said, explaining that we're meant to continue striving for — but never reaching — perfection. Then he told Josh that he would be an excellent assistant attorney general for civil rights, and he would work hard for all Americans. "Do you have any trouble with me saying that to the committee?" he asked.

"No," Josh replied.

I admired the West Wing's idealism. Like so many other works of fiction, though, it doesn't seem to translate well to the real world.

When Things Fall Apart

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Leo (John Spencer): You can't take it personally.

President Bartlet (Martin Sheen): That's what I keep telling myself. Problem is, once you're telling yourself that, it's too damned late. You're already taking it personally.

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On this night in 2005, the West Wing gave its viewers a taste of what they could expect in a few years — the nomination by a major party of a presidential candidate from a minority demographic. They weren't on the verge of nominating a black candidate, but they were on the verge of nominating a Latino candidate (Jimmy Smits).

(Apparently, even in 2005, a year after Barack Obama's keynote address to the 2004 Democratic convention and three years before Obama emerged from virtual obscurity to win the nomination, the writers for West Wing, as liberal as they were, simply couldn't imagine a plausible scenario in which a black candidate won the nomination.)

Clearly, it wasn't entirely prophetic. In the West Wing universe, the nomination wasn't a slam dunk. In fact, the battle for the nomination between the vice president (Gary Cole), who was the front–runner, and the Latino congressman from Texas (Jimmy Smits) was a virtual stalemate, and the episode began with a deal offer. The vice president was willing to name the congressman as his choice for the vice–presidential nomination in exchange for releasing his delegates from their commitments to support him.

I always felt it was a realistic depiction of the kind of political convention wheeling and dealing that was normal in American political parties until about midway through the 20th century. It has almost never been that close by the time that a real convention was about to begin, though. Something always seems to happen, and someone always surges at the last minute — and, in spite of occasions when observers have speculated about the chances for another "brokered" convention to occur, it really hasn't come close to happening in nearly 40 years.

So, in that sense, I suppose the episode was neither realistic nor prophetic. Just dramatic.

Adding to the drama were two facts — the Republicans were holding their own nominating convention (just as in real life, the out–of–power party was holding its convention first), and the crew of the space station was dealing with a life–threatening oxygen leak. The president (Martin Sheen) was trying to resolve the latter while ignoring the former.

That was hardly a new position in which he found himself. The unpredictability of the world often forces a president to deal with matters that stray far from his comfort zone, and the West Wing certainly was faithful in presenting that aspect of the job. The character of Jed Bartlet had expertise in economics, but he had to deal with all kinds of crises in the seven seasons the series was on the air.

And, with all that on the president's mind, the chairman of the Democratic National Committee was imploring him to intervene in the party squabbles between the leading candidates in the race to succeed Bartlet as the party's standard bearer.

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The president wasn't too keen on that so he turned it over to Leo (John Spencer), his chief of staff, who really wasn't able to make much headway.

Then the congressman decided to meet with the vice president to discuss his proposal — but, when it came down to it, he just couldn't agree to be the running mate.

Meanwhile, the Republican nominee (Alan Alda) was seen giving his acceptance speech — and the president and Leo were seen watching the speech on TV. He made some complimentary remarks about the president, prompting Leo to look at the president and observe, "Nice what he said about you."

"Yeah. Bastard," the president replied. "He just picked up five million Democratic votes."

OK, it was fiction. Few observers of the real political atmosphere in America expect next year's Republican nominee to say much, if anything, nice about Barack Obama — any more than Obama had anything nice to say about George W. Bush in 2008 or than Bush had to say about Bill Clinton in 2000. In fact, I can't recall a time in my life when the nominee of the opposing party had anything nice to say about the incumbent. (That has probably been influenced by the fact that most of the time the nominee of the opposing party has been running against the incumbent, not his successor as party standard bearer.)

But the Republican nominee in this case was much more centrist than anyone who is likely to be nominated by the Republicans next year. He also hailed from California, even though California hasn't had a potential national nominee in more than a quarter of a century and hasn't voted for a Republican presidential candidate in nearly as long — but, in this scenario, he was a beloved senator from California, and that turned the Electoral College math inside out — as did the fact that one of the leading candidates for the Democratic presidential nomination was from Texas.

Things were set for a dramatic season finale a week later.

An Eye for an Eye ...

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"You remind me of the man that lived by the river. He heard a radio report that the river was going to rush up and flood the town and that all the residents should evacuate their homes. But the man said, 'I'm religious. I pray. God loves me. God will save me.' The waters rose up. A guy in a rowboat came along, and he shouted, 'Hey, hey, you, you in there. The town is flooding. Let me take you to safety.' But the man shouted back, 'I'm religious. I pray. God loves me. God will save me.' A helicopter was hovering overhead, and a guy with a megaphone shouted, 'Hey, you, you down there. The town is flooding. Let me drop this ladder, and I'll take you to safety.' But the man shouted back that he was religious, that he prayed, that God loved him and that God will take him to safety. Well ... the man drowned. And standing at the gates of St. Peter, he demanded an audience with God. 'Lord,' he said, 'I'm a religious man. I pray. I thought you loved me. Why did this happen?' God said, 'I sent you a radio report, a helicopter and a guy in a rowboat. What the hell are you doing here?'"

Father Thomas Cavanaugh (Karl Malden)

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The episode of the West Wing that first aired 15 years ago tonight was one of those episodes that I regard as one of the series' finest hours — and it had many of them that season.

The topics that were addressed in this episode were the death penalty and presidential pardons.

To set the scene: A man had been sentenced to death for murder, and his latest appeal, to the Supreme Court, had been denied late on a Friday. His execution was set for the following Monday just after midnight so his defense team began trying to contact someone in the White House who could lobby the president for a pardon. Time, obviously, was of the essence, and the president was out of the country — due to return on Saturday morning.

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Leo (John Spencer): Sam?

Sam (Rob Lowe): Yeah?

Leo: Why Monday morning?

Sam: What do you mean?

Leo: The Court denied his appeal. Why isn't he being executed at midnight tonight?

Sam: We don't execute people between sundown Friday and sundown Sunday.

Leo: Why?

Sam: Hard as it is to believe ...

Leo: You're kidding me.

Sam: No.

Leo: We don't execute people on the Sabbath.

Sam: No.

Leo: Well, that's about the most bizarre thing I've ever heard.

Sam: Leo, I think you're going to find as you go through this weekend that there is virtually no part of this discussion that isn't bizarre.

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Now, I don't intend to make this a conversation about the pros and cons of death penalty law — and, for that matter, neither did the writers for the West Wing. The focus was on the question of granting a presidential pardon, not the right or wrong of the law.

Still, it couldn't help provoking some debates the night it aired.

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In the finest tradition of the West Wing, there were other stories going on at the same time — and one guesses that must be what life at the White House is like. The big story is the one that requires the involvement of the most West Wingers, but the others must go about their jobs and put out the fires they encounter there.

On this night, for example, Josh (Bradley Whitford) had to meet with a disgruntled campaign manager who didn't feel the White House was giving her congressional candidate enough support.

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But the side story in this episode didn't really demand as much attention as side stories usually did on the West Wing. In this episode, the side story about the campaign operative (Marlee Matlin) only served to introduce her character to the audience. She would be back.

The emphasis was primarily on the death penalty and the question of issuing a pardon to someone convicted of murder — and the political aspects that are impossible for those who work for politicians to ignore.

One of the things I always appreciated about the West Wing was its unflinching candor. In one of the best, most honest — yet most understated — scenes of the season, the president had a conversation with his young aide, Charlie. Charlie's mother had been a police officer who was shot and killed in the line of duty, leaving Charlie to care for his younger sister.

His conversation with the president showed all too clearly the kind of passion that surrounds this issue on both sides.

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President Bartlet (Martin Sheen): Charlie, I'm going to ask you a question. And this is one of those times that it's OK to tell me I've stepped over the line, and I should shut my mouth, OK?

Charlie (Dule Hill): OK.

President Bartlet: What happened to the guy who shot your mother?

Charlie: They haven't found him yet, sir.

President Bartlet: If they did, would you want to see him executed? Killing a police officer is a capital crime. I figured you must have thought about it.

Charlie: Yes, sir.

President Bartlet: And?

Charlie: I wouldn't want to see him executed, Mr. President.

[pause]

Charlie: I'd want to do it myself.

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Fair enough. No matter on which side of this issue you stand, I think most (if not all) of us can agree on that.

Earlier in the episode, the president had asked Charlie to arrange for his priest (Karl Malden) from New Hampshire to come visit him in the White House. The president wanted to talk with him about the death penalty and whether he should pardon the killer.

The priest didn't show up until a few minutes before the scheduled execution — I don't recall any explanation why.

The execution went ahead as scheduled. There was no pardon.

It was a remarkable, thought–provoking episode. It pulled no punches, and I think it was fair to all sides.

That was the West Wing standard.

Revelations While Taking Out the Trash

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Fifteen years ago tonight, The West Wing took an interesting approach to the subject of hate crimes — which, as I recall, was only emerging as a social issue at the time. Another instance of The West Wing being ahead of the curve.

It also examined the practice of dumping a bunch of unappealing stories (from the White House's point of view) on the press on Friday afternoon. The timing is purely political. As Josh (Bradley Whitford) observed, "No one reads the paper on Saturday." One such story, apparently, was to be the signing of a hate crimes bill that had been inspired by the murder of a gay teen whose parents would be in attendance. C.J. the press secretary (Allison Janney) was warned that the parents might be a problem — the father, really. The mother seemed to be on board with the law, but the father was said to be uncommunicative. C.J. concluded that he was grieving for his son — until it was suggested to her that he might be embarrassed by the knowledge that his son was a homosexual.

If I hadn't been a teacher — and had to answer similar questions — I would have found it hard to believe that C.J. had the following exchange with White House reporter Danny (Timothy Busfield). But I had a conversation with one of my college students several years ago who was genuinely surprised to learn that many religious leaders — of all faiths — had so little tolerance for those who did not share their views.

C.J.: "Is it possible that a father could be embarrassed about his son being gay even after his son was murdered?"

Danny: "Yes."

C.J.: "Possible to the extent that he would be disinclined to support a law that would impose stiffer penalties on the perpetrators of hate crimes, including the ones who tied his 17–year–old son to a tree and threw rocks at his head?"

Danny: "Yes."

C.J.: "It eludes me."

Danny: "I know."

So C.J. met with the parents and tried to confront the issue — and she and the viewing audience were stunned to learn that they had misunderstood the father's response. He was angry that the government and, in particular, the president hadn't done enough for gay rights.

The West Wing was good at that — throwing you a high hanging curve like that when you were looking for a fastball.

There was also an amusing side story about a report on sex education and sexual behavior among young people and a proposed program that encouraged abstinence among young people. A more liberal slant was given the program by renaming it "Abstinence Plus," which apparently encouraged everything except activity that could lead to the conception of a baby. Sam (Rob Lowe) was said to have nicknamed it "Everything But."

There were always several stories going on in an episode of The West Wing, especially in that first season when it was building a devoted audience base; eventually, though, they were all shown to be relevant to each other.

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An ongoing topic in the series in that first year was the revelation that the president's chief of staff (John Spencer) was a recovering alcoholic and drug abuser. The information had been leaked to leaders of the Republican Congress.

Turned out that a young intern had been the source of the leaked information, and Sam had her fired.

But Leo (Spencer) asked for her to be brought to his office before she left. He wanted to talk to her, to get to know her, to find out why she had leaked the information. When they were done, Leo gave her back her job — another interesting twist that probably wouldn't happen in a modern White House. I'm not so sure it would have happened then, either, but it is nice to think that there was a time in our history when people of principle still held positions of power in America.

On the Brink of Nuclear War

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I didn't see "The Missiles of October," the made–for–TV movie about the 1962 Cuban Missile Crisis, when it was first broadcast on ABC 40 years ago today.

I saw it years later when my American history teacher in high school showed it to my class on video tape. It was so long — more than two hours — that my memory is that she had to show it over three consecutive days.

It was also one of those historical dramatizations that made me wonder why it took so long for the project to become a reality. Yet, for a long time, it was the only dramatization (that I know of) of arguably the most significant event of the second half of the 20th century.

Now, having been a teacher myself, one of my first thoughts when I remember my teacher showing us that movie is that it was a great way to fill the class time without having to do too much prep work. I guess I really kind of felt that way at the time; as I have gotten older, and my perspective has changed, I see things differently. Few people really see how hard teachers work to prepare for classes, even ones in which a movie will fill the time. As a student, I didn't realize that — but, as the son and grandson of teachers, I should have known better.

At the time, though, I didn't dwell on that too much. I was absolutely mesmerized by the story, and I really think that is what my teacher was shooting for with as many of us as possible. Young people's fascination with video is not a new phenomenon. We were just as fascinated, and I like to think my classmates learned something from watching the movie. Many of them just weren't good at absorbing what they read. I've always felt bad for people like that. I have loved to read ever since I learned how.

I was already familiar with the story of the Cuban Missile Crisis. I had read a lot of contemporary history by the time I got to high school, and I had seen film clips of President Kennedy from that time. I knew what he sounded like. In fact, I knew what many of the Americans in the story sounded like, and I figured I could spot a false note without too much trouble. I have now seen "The Missiles of October" several times, and I have yet to spot a false note.

And if I could do it, people who could remember that time certainly could do it, too. This movie appeared on TV about 12 years after the crisis — so anyone who was at least 20 on this night in 1974 would have some kind of memory of it. Obviously, the older one was, the greater the chance that person could remember a lot more than a 20–year–old. And, of course, some kids are more mature than other kids so it is quite possible that people who were in high school in 1974 could remember things about the crisis.

That is the risk, I suppose, in trying to dramatize an actual event with which so many people are familiar. I guess it is comparable to the post–9/11 syndrome. Eventually, I imagine, there will be many movies made about that day — after it has faded from memory — but, by and large, most filmmakers have avoided the subject, presumably because their audiences would have vivid memories of the attacks and the public statements by prominent people like George W. Bush.

That may have been the reason why so few movies have been made about contemporary events; even so, it took another quarter–century or so for the next dramatization of the Cuban Missile Crisis to be made — and I felt 2000's "Thirteen Days" was inferior to "The Missiles of October."

I guess logic says contemporary events really should be the easiest to dramatize because of the availability of film of the actual events. All you gotta do is study the film, right? But that makes the assignment even more challenging — because people who remember events tend to be very critical of re–creations of those events, very demanding. And they can be very unforgiving of what they perceive as missteps.

So I have to applaud the courage of actors and directors who accept such a challenge. Seen in that light, Daniel Day–Lewis' Oscar–winning portrayal of Abraham Lincoln isn't quite as remarkable as most of us first thought, is it? After all, he didn't have to be compared to film clips of Lincoln delivering a speech — only portraits and a few primitive photographs.

Nor did he have to live up to 150–year–old memories. Lincoln's contemporaries are long gone.

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But William Devane had to be compared to not merely generic John F. Kennedy footage but the actual footage of his public statements during the crisis — and the memories of those who lived through the crisis.

(Just think what a challenge it will be someday when an actor faces the assignment of playing Barack Obama in a movie about the first black president.)

I have seen the footage of President Kennedy speaking to the nation during the crisis, an event that was duplicated in "The Missiles of October." Devane delivered a flawless version of Kennedy's New England accent and even captured Kennedy's mannerisms. Devane has always looked enough like a Kennedy to have had his own branch on the family tree, but he didn't just look the part. He was Kennedy.

I'm not as familiar with voices of many of those who participated in the real–life drama. I know what most of them looked like, and the actors playing them certainly looked the part. I can only assume that they sounded authentic as well.

I am old enough to remember Bobby Kennedy, and I can say that Martin Sheen did a superb job. He had Bobby's unique accent down. It was so good he probably could have pulled off posing as Bobby on the phone.

I had seen Martin Sheen in other movies by the time I saw "The Missiles of October" so I never associated him with that particular movie. But I did have — and still do have — a strong mental connection between the movie and Devane's portrayal of JFK.

(Of course, part of that may be his portrayal of a Teddy Kennedy–like character on a short–lived primetime soap opera in the mid–'90s.)

I don't remember seeing him in anything before I saw "The Missiles of October." I've seen him in many things since — including episodes of TV's The West Wing in which he and Sheen had a peculiar kind of role reversal, with Sheen playing the president and Devane playing a Cabinet member.

Nothing was embellished in "The Missiles of October." The dialogue (and the movie was almost entirely dialogue) came from historical sources. The audience was reminded of that from the beginning.

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There were no splashy special effects, no explosions (except for grainy, black–and–white archival footage of nuclear tests). Just a riveting story.

It probably wasn't exciting enough for modern audiences, but my high school history class got swept up in the story. Oh, sure, there were a few immature giggles in the classroom early on whenever someone on screen uttered the word damn — which happened from time to time and understandably so, given the circumstances — but once the students got over that juvenile response, they got into the story.

It's still hard to believe we came so close to nuclear war. Harder still to believe we actually managed to avoid it.

And that, I think, is the mark of how good "The Missiles of October" was. Even though I knew how the story ended, I was still on the edge of my seat, wondering how things would turn out.

Peeking Behind the Scenes at the 'West Wing'

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Laurie (Lisa Edelstein): Tell your friend POTUS he's got a funny name, and he should learn how to ride a bicycle.

Sam (Rob Lowe): I would, but he's not my friend; he's my boss. It's not his name; it's his title.

Laurie: POTUS?

Sam: President of the United States. I'll call ya.

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Fifteen years ago tonight, one of my favorite TV programs of all time, The West Wing, made its first appearance on America's TV screens. (Of course, I am a political junkie, anyway, so I suppose it isn't really surprising that the show appealed to me.)

That first episode was a mangled, dangling mass of loose strings — or so it must have seemed to many viewers. Some of those loose ends took seven years to tie together. It was a very literate script, written by very savvy writers. Frankly, there were times when I thought that, in spite of the elementary nature of that first episode, parts of it might be over some viewers' heads. I suppose that is a risk you run with just about anything on TV.

That very basic first story dealt with how the president got hurt riding a bicycle. As the episode unfolded, viewers became acquainted with the characters — and learned that there was much more to the story than met the eye. The West Wing was like that; it tended to set up its viewers — and usually delivered a gentle knockout punch in the last five minutes — gentle in the sense that viewers almost never saw it coming.

In some ways, the cast of that first episode did not really resemble the cast of the final episode seven years later. There was a core of characters who remained with the show from start to finish, but others came and went, as they do in the real West Wing. I felt that angle added a touch of realism to the stories, kind of like the ever–changing nature of the ensemble cast of "M*A*S*H."

Some of those characters, like Allison Janney who played C.J. the press secretary, became very well known through their work on the series — even if some weren't originally intended to be regulars. Others, who may have been expected to be long–term characters, were there briefly, then left and were never heard from again.

Martin Sheen, who played the president, wasn't supposed to be a major presence on the show. The series was really supposed to be about the president's staff. But he quickly became a regular, as did the first lady (Stockard Channing), who wasn't even seen 15 years ago tonight. I think the only time she was mentioned was during Sheen's monologue near the end of the episode.

I believe Janel Moloney, who played Donna, the aide to Josh (Bradley Whitford), was only intended to be an occasional character, but she wound up staying with the series to the last episode — and became a much more significant (and popular) character in the process.

Ironically, viewers weren't sure just how attached they should get to Whitford's character that first night. He was, in the words of the first President Bush, in deep doo–doo after insulting a pundit from the Christian right on the air; as a result, the as–yet unseen president was said to be ready to fire Josh — but had not, primarily because of intervention on his behalf by others, especially Leo, the chief of staff (John Spencer).

For that matter, I wasn't sure about Lisa Edelstein's character, a "high–priced call girl" who appeared destined to be the significant other for Sam the speech writer (Rob Lowe). There was something noble about Edelstein. Her character was using the proceeds from her prostitution to pay for her education so she wasn't your run–of–the–mill call girl. She was in a few other episodes in that first season, and her relationship with Sam seemed to be blooming, but she did not remain with the series. I recall no explanation being given.

Sam had kind of a shaky start that night. He didn't know Edelstein was a call girl when he slept with her — and, unfortunately, when he tried to explain to the communications director, Toby (Richard Schiff), what had happened, he neglected to elaborate after he said, "I accidentally slept with a prostitute." Toby was, understandably, bewildered. "Accidentally? I don't understand. Did you trip over something?"

Likewise, Moira Kelly played a political consultant and Josh's former girlfriend. She seemed to be destined for a long–term role on the show but left after the first season (actually, her involvement was less and less each week until it apparently dwindled to nothing before the end of the season) and was never mentioned again.

The reason for Sheen's bicycle accident was mostly a mystery that first night — until Sheen showed up near the end of the episode and clarified things considerably. That, as I understand it, was kind of how the series was originally designed. The focus would be on the staff, the president would pop in from time to time to sort of tie together the loose ends.

On this occasion, though, it seems more appropriate to reflect on the series, which ran for seven years, than to obsess over the meat of that first episode. The show was pigeonholed by some as a liberal's fantasy of how things ought to work — and it was that, to be sure. It was a product of its times, patterned to a great extent after the Clinton administration, a clearly Democrat president contending with a Congress that just as clearly was dominated by Republicans.

Many of the show's advisers came from the Clinton administration, and sometimes episodes were almost wistful reflections on how the writers apparently wished things could have been in the late 1990s.

The great thing about the West Wing, though, was how it appealed to people across the political spectrum. I knew people who were Democrats, Republicans, even independents who watched the show faithfully and wished for a president like Jed Bartlet.

Makes you wonder, doesn't it? If they can agree on a TV show about a president and a Congress held by opposing parties ...