I have met three hijackers in my life, and I hope I do not sound crabby and disillusioned if I add that the standard of hijacking is not what it used to be. The first hijacker I knew was the first civilian on record to use civil aviation to make a political point. His name was Herminio da Palma Inácio, and he was a Portuguese resistance leader in the days of the Salazar dictatorship. During one of that regime's rigged "plebiscites" in the early 1960s, Palma boarded a plane in Casablanca, caused its pilot and crew to alter their plans, and flew over Lisbon dropping leaflets calling for a free election. He then returned the plane to its home airport and vanished back into his clandestine world. According to some reports, he handed a red rose to every female passenger and apologized for the general inconvenience. He may not even have carried a loaded weapon. At any rate, and though he was for a while known to headline writers as "the most wanted man in Europe," his operations were known for their dash and verve (one appreciates the Casablanca touch) and for their absence of crudity or cruelty. He was a very gallant and charismatic individual. His object was to help bring an end to fascist rule on the Iberian peninsula, and to assist Portuguese-speaking Africa in gaining independence from an especially nasty form of colonial exploitation. He lived (having survived much imprisonment and torture) to witness this happy outcome. I was quite proud to see him again after the jails of Lisbon were thrown open in April 1974, and to shake his hand.

The second hijacker I'd mention is William Lee Brent, who got himself heavily involved in revolutionary politics in the Bay Area in the late 1960s, and who can be seen off to the side in many of the Black Panther photo dramas of that period. He came to the conclusion that he might well not outlive a rap that arose from a violent confrontation with the local police department, and he was also in fear of the reprisals that might come from his comrades, with whom he'd had a few suggestive disagreements. So he borrowed TWA Flight 154 from Oakland in June of 1969 and took himself off to Havana, where he still lives. Nobody was injured by his .38 revolver, the Cubans jailed him as soon as he landed, and he's written a pretty interesting book called Long Time Gone. It was extremely selfish and irresponsible of Bill to have taken the plane, but he thought it was a matter of survival and has since revisited the matter, and his whole Cuban experience, in a serious and conscientious way.

In 1975 I was in Baghdad trying to write something about the emergence of a sternly constituted and wealthy Baathist regime, which had a militarized pan-Arab ideology and a supposedly impressive and thrusting young vice president named Saddam Hussein. One of my guides and interpreters suggested that I might like to meet Abu Nidal, who was then Iraq's nominee as leader of the Palestinian struggle and who, on August 19 last, and also in Baghdad, abruptly became "the late."

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