The Ladies' Home Journal is not so dumb. It commissioned Renaissance Woman Candice Bergen, 28, to get inside the White House and shoot some informal pictures of the First Family. Candy had already caught the eye of official White House Photographer David Hume Kennerly, who obligingly set up exclusive photo sessions for her. Candy seemed exclusive too. So it was that an envious Washington photo corps saw Candy and David not only stepping out together at the state dinner for visiting Pakistani Prime Minister Zulfikar All Bhutto but even indulging in a little slap-and-tickle as well. "It's been incredibly exciting," said Candy. "I didn't know you could have such a good time at a state dinner." It looked like the old story: Let's go into the darkroom and see what develops.
"If that's the way it's got to be ..." an irritated Senator Russell Long was heard to say. There he was, swaggering along in the mask of captain emeritus of the Louisiana State Society's annual Mardi Gras Ball in Washington, when he found himself a lawbreaker. Some 15 years ago, he had made a rule that anyone who took off his mask would be fined $50. But when Long approached Honored Guest Betty Ford to claim a dance, a Secret Service man barred his way, saying, "You can't dance with Mrs. Ford until we know who you are." Russell identified himself, but Mrs. Ford's protector persisted, "You will have to take off your mask." So Long dropped his mask and $50 for a dance with Betty.
Who was this all-American paragon, oozing the sap of maple-sugared kindness? When ABC aired the Howard Hughes story, a made-for-TV film biography of the reclusive millionaire, the protagonist was unrecognizable. When, for instance, Lana Turner anticipated marrying him, she had all her sheets monogrammed HH; Hughes turned her down with "marry Huntington Hartford." A more sinister Hughes emerged from Film Maker Ron Lyon's experience. He had reckoned without his subject. When Lyon tried to obtain newsreel clips of Hughes, the only ones available were of him smiling and waving. Then the insurance company, doubtless aware of Hughes' litigious nature, insisted that most of the critical remarks be cut. But undaunted, Lyon is now working on a made-for-TV movie biography of another rich person who values privacy: Jacqueline Onassis.