Courtroom 14D in the Federal Courthouse in lower Manhattan is large and well-lit, modern but grand with high ceilings and walls of dark wood with crown molding and decorative arches over the doors.

I’m sitting on a bench seat in the back of the room with a couple dozen reporters, lawyers and other interested parties.

The jury box is empty.

An assistant U.S. District Attorney sits in the center, next to a lawyer from Georgetown University representing the National Archives, one of several plaintiffs fighting for the release of Grand Jury testimony of 44 witnesses called for the Julius and Ethel Rosenberg Espionage case in 1950.

Judge Hellerstein sits facing us in a high back leather chair on the bench next to a large American flag. His words and those of the lawyers are well-amplified and clear.

It’s an impressive setting for a historic ruling on the release of evidence 55 years after this nation’s only execution ever of American civilians for spying.

Julius and Ethel Rosenberg were convicted in a sensational espionage trial of passing atomic secrets to the Soviet Union during World War II. They were Communist sympathizers, executed at Sing-Sing prison in 1953.

Sam Roberts, a New York Times writer, author and expert on the case told me, “Communism looked a little more appealing after the depression when a lot of people were not benefiting from Capitalism, when there was anti-Semitism in this country and there was a perception, certainly not a reality, that there was a lot less of it in the Soviet Union.”

But Roberts and others have long suggested the evidence against Ethel was weak and her execution may have been a mistake.

“Ethel Rosenberg was an actress…,” Sam reminded me. “At some point she realized this was her greatest role. Whatever loyalty she had to Communism and towards the Soviet Union she could perform a lot more as a Martyr than she ever could as a spy.”

There is little doubt Ethel’s husband Julius passed atomic secrets to the Soviets, notes and sketches of the atomic bomb he got from Ethel’s brother David Greenglass, another communist sympathizer who worked at the Los Alamos lab in New Mexico.

David gave Julius notes and sketches of the bomb and Ethel allegedly typed them up before the materials were handed off to the Soviets.

But decades later David told reporters he lied at trial. It was his wife, not Ethel, who typed up the stolen secrets. He helped prosecutors win a death sentence for his sister to keep his wife out of trouble.

Some call it a Shakespearean tragedy and the Rosenberg’s descendants are among those hoping for answers, including how the Government was able to win its case with what may be faulty testimony.

But while the Judge ruled testimony from 39 of the 46 witnesses can be released, he decided some still can’t be because of it’s sensitive nature, inability to determine if the witnesses are still alive, or in Greenglass’s case because he wants to maintain the privacy guaranteed him by the Feds before he walked into the Grand Jury room in August of 1950.

“He may be a scoundrel, a hypocrite and a liar and may have violated the 2nd and 7th Commandments…” the judge said, “…but that doesn’t override the value of Grand Jury secrecy.”

Greenglass’s words remain hidden at least until he dies. The National Archives will now work on releasing the testimony from 39 others, probably sometime within the next couple weeks.

I went to cover a political fund raising event in a New York City nightclub earlier this week as part of a story on a congressional race in Brooklyn featuring 13-term incumbent Ed Towns and challenger Kevin Powell, a writer and activist who may be best-known (in some circles) as the often-angry guy in the very first season of MTV’s “The Real World” show back in 1992.

Powell says he’s been friends with comedian Dave Chappelle for years, even profiling him for an Esquire cover story after Chappelle famously opted not to sign a $50 million dollar contract with Comedy Central in 2005 and disappeared to South Africa.

Their friendship and Chappelle’s star power were among the reasons Powell’s staff booked the comedian to appear at the fund raiser where he would presumably draw a large crowd of supporters and donors, injecting money, energy, excitement and maybe even some controversy into Powell’s campaign.

I met producer Shushannah Walshe and our crew at the club (”Eugene”) before the doors opened at 7 p.m. to set up our equipment and coordinate with staff for a one-on-one with the candidate and maybe Chappelle too.  People arrived in waves and the bar quickly filled to capacity.  We met Powell and interviewed him in the quietest spot we could find, then took our position near the stage to wait for the show to start.

Powell spoke to the enthusiastic crowd around 8:30, discussing his background and reasons for running, ending with a chant “Together, We Will Win.”  He told everyone Chappelle was “on the way” but hadn’t yet arrived and promised “more to come” before retreating to the VIP area to meet the biggest donors and huddle in a booth with comedian Chris Rock, who has roots in the 10th District.

Time passed with no sign of Chappelle.  The crowd grew restless.  At one point a local print reporter got on stage and told a couple jokes about 99-cent stores.  The captive audience didn’t seem to think he was very funny, showering the guy with some jeers and boos and scattered applause before he sheepishly waved and walked off.

The cameras stayed trained on the entrance to the VIP room just off the stage, waiting for a sign of Chappelle or maybe Chris Rock.

Finally at 10:15, the candidate walked out and back on stage.  To apologize.  There would be no performance by Dave Chappelle.  The comedian “missed his flight” and then “missed the next flight”.  Rock wouldn’t perform either, “out of respect for his fellow comedian.”

The assembled were remarkably understanding, considering most had waited three hours and many paid between $50 and $2300 to be there.  “We’re here for you, Kevin!” one man yelled as Powell spoke.  The candidate promised free admission to the “next celebrity event” to all who’d paid and said the DJ and bartenders would stay until 11pm, but most people headed for the doors when he walked away from the microphone.

I wonder if they’ll ask Chappelle to headline again?  And if they do, I wonder how many of the people who waited for him this week will come back for another try?

I’m pretty sure we’ll be there either way and will let you know what happens.

I haven’t been on a stakeout in a while. We’ll do it on occasion, waiting for someone to arrive or leave a location, efforting video and/or an interview with someone who doesn’t necessarily want to be on television.

It can be extremely boring, depending on how long it takes to get the shot.

Sometimes we sit in a vehicle and read the paper or listen to music. Sometimes it’s cold or rainy and we’re stuck outside.

Today was nice. I stood at the corner of 120th and Amsterdam on the edge of Columbia University’s campus under blue skies with the temperature in the mid to upper 70’s. My producer Ian Rafferty had to wait in the car since we were illegally parked next to a coned-off zone where they’re supposed to shoot an episode of “Law and Order”. My cameraman Paul Alvarez stood in front of the side door with a still photographer while I manned the corner about 20 yards away, keeping an eyeball on the front entrance, scanning back and forth in case our subject stepped out Paul’s way.

We were waiting for Dr. Madonna Constantine, a just-fired Columbia Teacher’s College professor who’s accused of plagiarizing the work of two students and a former colleague. She gained national attention during the investigation into her alleged misdeeds when a noose mysteriously appeared on her office door, leading to her claims the school was targeting her in some sort of racist witch hunt.

About an hour after we arrived outside her building I spotted her, dressed in black with a male escort, hurrying out the front door and towards a town car that was quickly u-turning to a stop in front of her building.

“There she is!” I yelled to Paul and jogged down the sidewalk towards her, microphone in hand. “Dr. Constantine!” I shouted. “Dr. Constantine!  Can we ask you a question?”. She ignored me and climbed into the backseat. Her escort followed and closed the door as we reached the car.

“Dr. Constantine?” I asked again. She never turned her head and the car sped off towards the light, where the still camera grabbed a shot.
She’s apparently headed to her lawyer’s office to discuss her next move.

We fed the video via our mac book pro and set up the streambox for a Studio B live shot.

I felt a bit like a paparazzi but my goal wasn’t profit or exploitation. I was trying to give her a chance to respond to the allegations against her. Maybe her lawyer will talk instead.

Clarksville is a historic artists town of about 500 residents. It draws lots of tourists, but on this day sightseers are put to work.  So are journalists. I learned how to fill sandbags yesterday (three shovel fulls is good). Today I learn how to place them. Just fold the open top under and place the folded side down and into (or on top of) the wall. No time to tie them off. The mighty Mississippi is rising fast.

The sound of generators fills the air. The hoses of the sump pumps are bloated, carrying all they can handle from the low side of a massive sandbag wall, up and over, blowing streams or river water back into the flooded Mississippi.

I’m sitting on top of a massive pile of the green, tan, and yellow bags, carefully placed here in brick-like fashion since last Thursday. The base of the wall appears close to 20 feet wide or more (I can only see the dry half) and the wall itself is at least 8 feet high. On the other side the swollen polluted brown water flows by just a couple feet below the top, with another foot-and-a-half to two feet expected before the crest comes sometime between Thursday and Saturday.

Female prison inmates fill more bags, alongside Army National Guard soldiers.  More than a hundred are in town, with humvees, heavy trucks and front end loaders. A block over, middle schoolers work a line, passing bags by ones and two’s from hand to hand to shore up the sides and raise the tops against the rising tide.

Around the corner, Mishel Hughes is giving haircuts, some of them free, in her Cuts Plus Salon.  Our cameramen pay for theirs.

We got up early again this morning and drove north from Quincy, Illinois toward a levee just breached in the farming community of Meyer. We covered at least 20 miles only to be stopped short by a police roadblock.

“Rick Leventhal with FOX News Channel,” I told the Sergeant after I pulled over and approached on foot.

“I’m sorry but I can’t let you through” he told me. “It’s too dangerous. The water is rising too fast.”

“What if we just drive to the water’s edge?” I asked. No dice.

“What if we just drive in, shoot some tape and drive back?” Nope.

“What if you escort us in?” Not happening.

“What if we rode in your car?” I pleaded. No again.

I understood he was doing his job. I thanked him and we climbed back in our SUV’s. We had to backtrack and cover another 70 or 80 miles south to the town of Louisiana, Missouri and then on to Clarksville for live shots schedule from 11a to 10p. Time was short. But as we headed back east towards the main drag we found a back road and turned north towards the breach. Just a few hundreds yards ahead the road was under water, along with fields of corn. Robert Lee shot some video while my producer Meredith and I tried to connect a live shot with our laptops. When that failed we quickly packed up and hit the road again.

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Downtown Louisiana, MO is a mess. The bridge over the Mississippi River to Illinois is closed. So is Route 79 which runs along the river, since now the river runs through it. At least 50 homes and 15 businesses are in or under water according to the chief of Police Jim Graham, who showed up while we shot Darin Davis and his wife and kids sandbagging his house on North Carolina Street between 3rd and 4th.

“We need help” he told me. “Volunteers are a must. We’re just going under fast.”. He pointed at his neighbor’s house. “They have about two feet before it goes over their wall. This guy here, he’s pumping like crazy. This is my best friend’s house. It’s, it’s bad.”

I promised I’d get the word out, we packed up and moved on to Clarksville, a whole ‘nother adventure.

Most people who go to strip clubs would rather not advertise the fact. They don’t want to be on TV, they don’t want to publicly rally for club causes, they just want to quietly slip in and slip out and go on about their business.

I say this because we just finished a shoot on a proposed “pole” tax in Pennsylvania. We managed to interview a club owner and club attorney and the state representative behind the legislation, but finding any patrons to discuss their support or opposition to paying an extra $5 to get in…? Not happening.

For some reason, the guys enjoying the midday and early evening shows in Allentown and Quakertown and Harrisburg, Penn. didn’t seem interested or motivated in talking to me, Maryam or Hollywood when we walked in. There was none of the aggressive “Hey, put ME on TV!” that we usually get when we show up anywhere with our camera and lights and microphone. Instead we got nervous glances and hunched shoulders and “what are THEY doing in here?” looks.

No worries. The compelling arguments from both sides — and the PICTURES — will tell the story quite well.

I’ve met a lot of Marine Reservists over the years, guys who leave their day jobs behind to serve their country in Iraq or Afghanistan or wherever duty calls. Some were police officers or prison guards, college students or box store workers … one guy designed costumes for exotic dancers in Las Vegas.

Then there’s Josh Mandel.

I met him in Haditha last December during a whirlwind tour of bases across the Anbar Province, from al Qaim to al Asad. Josh looked about 15 but was closer to 30, bright and polite but motivated enough to come into the room where we’d gathered our equipment to introduce himself and thank us for telling the Marine’s stories.

I found out HIS story after a bit of prodding. He joined the Marines before 9/11, following in the footsteps of his grandfather who’d served during World War II. He was on his second tour of Iraq, taking a leave of absence from his post as the youngest elected Republican in the Ohio House of Representatives. He showed us the shoes he wore out during his campaign back in 2006 when he knocked on more than 19,000 doors. They’re hanging on nails on his office wall.

Josh confessed his elected position after we’d promised not to tell the others in his company. He said he didn’t want special treatment. He just wanted to be one of the guys. We took him outside to the dusty back yard and did an interview, promising to hold the tape until he returned home.

Last month we sent a crew to New Orleans where families gathered at an airstrip to welcome the 3/23 home and then we traveled to Columbus to be with Josh when he set foot inside the Capitol Dome for the first time in 9 months. He received a hero’s welcome, with lots of back slaps and hugs and a standing ovation from his fellow lawmakers. It was a moving scene and I was really glad we were there to document it.

One of my biggest questions for Josh was how his constituents felt about their elected representative being absent from his job for so long. How could the needs of the people possibly be served with him gone? He unapologetically explained his first responsibility was to his country and he didn’t join the Marines to not answer when they called. He also left his very capable assistant Michael Lord and other staffers behind to handle complaints and requests and forward them to the appropriate people. Josh insists voters did NOT suffer and could benefit now from his improved leadership skills, experience and maturity.

Josh Mandel is proud of his service but won’t be re-enlisting in June. He says he’s going to focus on his job and his fiance while still acting as an ambassador for the Corps.

No lawmaker has ever been successfully Impeached in Ohio’s 205 year history, but that could change if Attorney General Marc Dann sticks to his guns and refuses to resign.

He’s accused of running his office like a frat house, where cursing and harassing young female staffers was the norm. He hired a bunch of his buddies from Youngstown when he won the election in ‘06 and the consensus seems to be he and his crew were in over their heads.

Dann roomed with two of his top guys and there were apparently some booze-fueled slumber parties that got a bit out of control. One girl alleges she woke up with her pants down and one of Dann’s aides in his underwear next to her.

This charge led to the discovery Dann (a married father of three) was having an affair with another girl in his office, which he subsequently lied about before admitting some details (not including her name).

I spent the past couple of days in the State House in Columbus, where lawmakers in both parties seem unified in their distaste for Dann’s alleged misdeeds (although the Speaker told me “if we impeached everyone for lying and cheating on their spouses it’d be a long summer”).

Dann, a Democrat, has lost the support of his party. They say they’re stripping him of his affiliation and support and have basically thrown him under the bus. If he won’t quit they say they’ll move to impeach. The only question is whether what he’s accused of is enough to forcefully remove him from the job.

There are rumors the story could get more interesting, but so far Dann hasn’t budged, saying he can still effectively do his job. Lawmakers say otherwise, and the showdown looms.

I never felt older and slower than I did when I climbed into a boxing ring for a quasi-sparring session with the New York Golden Gloves Heavyweight Champion.

I actually outweigh Ngo Okafor by five pounds, but he’s taller, much stronger, quicker and has a much better reach. But I’m 15 years older and wiser, so … yeah, that’s no help.

Ngo just started boxing a couple years ago as part of his workout regiment and he apparently impressed some real fighters. One of them suggested he get in the ring and soon he decided to get serious and chase the crown.

We profiled him because at 33, he’s one of the oldest title holders (once you reach 35 you can’t fight for the Novice Championship) and he’s also an actor and model and very intelligent and had an interesting story to tell. (You can see more at getingo.com)

I survived our sparring match, but only because Ngo took it easy on me (he probably figured the story might change if he broke my face). He slapped me about a dozen times and could’ve knocked me flat pretty much anytime he wanted. I definitely have a greater appreciation for the sport and his skills and his mercy … and now I think both of us are retiring from boxing.

You probably can’t tell, but zoo animals are graying just like the rest of us. Bears, elephants, giraffes, emus, even snakes are living longer in captivity than they would in the wild. It shouldn’t surprise anyone, since there are no predators to stalk animals at the zoo, plus they’re eating well and getting quality care from keepers, including medical attention.

Actually, it’s the veterinarians who may be most responsible for the longer lifespans, since the aging animals are developing ailments just like humans, often requiring the same procedures, treatment and medicine we get.

Arthritis, for example, is very common among older large mammals. So is heart and liver disease, glaucoma, and weight gain. The big birds and beasts are getting regular check-ups and X-rays and prescriptions to anti-inflammatorys and other meds designed to improve their quality of life and maintain the integrity of the family units within the habitats.

We visited the Philadelphia Zoo, which happens to be the nation’s 1st zoo, established in 1859. It boasts to hosting America’s 2nd oldest Spectacled Langur (a monkey) and the 5th oldest female Giraffe. Our tour also included visits with an arthritic 30-year-old bear and a deeply wrinkled 52-year-old elephant. Keep Reading …