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At Roll Call, an Uneasy Silence
The 46 staffers for Sen. Tim Johnson in Washington and South Dakota continue to work in his office during his recovery, including, from left, Chief of Staff Drey Samuelson, Communications Director Julianne Fisher and Legislative Director Todd Stubbendieck. "One of the things that makes it easier is jumping back into the work," Stubbendieck says.
(By Michael Williamson -- The Washington Post)
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"Ah, ah, second, uh, uh, you know," Johnson stammered. He laughed nervously. For long moments there was more stammering, silence, isolated words.
It was the awful sound of a man struggling mightily to master his thoughts.
"Well said," the senator concluded, trying to make a joke. "Anything, uh, further? Going once, twice. Okay."
On the subway back to Hart, Fisher tried to draw Johnson into conversation. When she asked about his wife -- family was a subject that always got him chattering -- and he gave a one-word reply, she knew something was wrong.
Within minutes the staff summoned a doctor, and Johnson was wheeled to an ambulance. That night he was in surgery.
The Mechanics of an Absence
The 46 members of the senator's staff in Washington and South Dakota suddenly found themselves on their own.
"This experience is certainly one of the most surreal of my life," says Drey Samuelson, Johnson's chief of staff for 20 years in the House and Senate.
The first few days brought out the best and worst of Washington: Colleagues from both sides of the aisle rushed to be with his family, sent piles of food to his office. But no one could help speculating: What if Johnson died or resigned? South Dakota's Republican governor probably would pick a Republican successor. The Senate would be divided 50-50. Vice President Cheney would break ties.
"It was hard to see Tim treated as a poker chip as opposed to a human being," Samuelson says.
When it became "clear he was going to live," the story lost its sizzle and the reporters went away, Samuelson says.
Then the quirkier aspects of absence came into play. Senate officials postponed approving reimbursements for official staff travel while Johnson was sedated, which he was until late December, because his agreement could not be verified.
The staff asked the Rules Committee for permission to send out official mail over the chief of staff's signature. For the first time in his career, Samuelson scanned his autograph into an autopen. Wielding his new authority with great deference, he has signed only a brief letter thanking constituents for their input and explaining the unusual situation.



