Fortunately, our PR guy soon appeared, took her in hand, and thankfully, took her out of my office. At that time it was widely believed that Mary, along with all people to the left of Heinrich Himmler, were dopers. I suppose she may have had some kind of stash in the bag in question, I don't know. Keep in mind, this was back around 1970. The very first plane hijackings had only recently taken place. There were no airport security checks, no x-rays or luggage searches, no drug dogs. People could, and doubtless often did, fly about the country with their favorite recreational drugs stowed securely in their Samsonites. But again, I have no idea whether that was the case. I don't recall how it was all resolved, but we all managed to survive into the next day, happily including Mary Travers.
A year or so later I was living in the Big Apple where, among other things, I drove a cab for about a year. One evening I had a fare from Manhattan out to the Pan Am Terminal at Kennedy Airport. I usually didn't like taking fares to any of the three NYC airports, as I usually wound up driving back into the city empty. But in this instance, I had just dropped off my fare when the rear door popped open and in slid two breathless people with luggage in hand. I only got a glimpse of one of the them in my rear view mirror - a guy. Their destination: The Plaza Hotel. Yes!
I was aware the other passenger was a woman, but I could only manage to see a small slice of her head in the mirror without obviously craning my neck. I was generally not all that interested in seeing my fares anyhow, given the natural or acquired New Yorker proclivity for anonymity. After a while they all just became one faceless fare after another. But a few minutes into the ride back to Manhattan, the woman began conversing with her fellow passenger - who, I suppose, could have been her husband. Simply hearing her speak a few words, I knew her voice; it was unmistakable. I craned my neck. Indeed it was she. Mary Travers was a passenger in my cab. Woohoo!