It was four minutes after 1 p.m. Washington time when Chief Justice William Rehnquist intoned: "The Senate will convene as a court of impeachment."
In his Supreme Court across the East Lawn from the Capitol, the Chief Justice insists on strict punctuality. But senators are more relaxed, and being four minutes late was not bad.
Then came the chaplain, the Rev Lloyd Ogilvie, who prayed that the 100 senators would get "a special measure of wisdom" to try their President with "non-partisan patriotism".
The President was not standing in the dock because there is no dock and he was across the Potomac in Alexandria, Virginia, addressing police about crime prevention. A nice irony there as the Republican prosecutors, or "managers" as they are quaintly called, were busy accusing William Jefferson Clinton of "egregious and criminal" conduct, such as perjury and obstruction of justice.
The senators were settling in for an impeachment trial which will go on for weeks and possibly months. They are going to find it an ordeal.
The Decorum Guidelines for Senate Trial says they should be in attendance "at all times" during the proceedings. Usually there are only a few senators in the chamber for normal business.
They have to "refrain from speaking to neighbouring senators" and must turn off their cellphones and beepers. And no surreptitious reading of novels or newspapers. Reading materials should be confined to those "which pertain to the matter before the Senate".
There is plenty of that. Every senator has been supplied with the 60,000 pages of documents which make up the official record.
Some of the senators are pretty old. Strom Thurmond is 96 and has orange hair. He arrived looking sprightly enough. Senator Ben Nighthorse-Campbell - he of Indian blood and with his striking pony-tail - moved around the chamber chatting before the call to prayer.
Senator Edward Kennedy lounged at his school desk which is the traditional seating in the chamber. Senator Max Cleland, who lost his legs and an arm in Vietnam, whizzed into the Senate in his wheelchair.
A pair of crutches was stacked in the corner for a Senate aide.
After the prayer, and a "Hear ye, hear ye" from the Serjeant-at-Arms, the Senate majority leader, Trent Lott, moved Resolution 17 to approve "appropriate furniture and equipment".
This was unanimously approved, so the curved black plastic-surfaced tables for the prosecution and the defence at the front of the chamber and the video monitors for evidence were legalised.
Outside in freezing rain, patient Americans queued for the 50 seats in the public gallery. The spectators at the "trial of the century" were rotated every 15 minutes by the ushers.
"It's crazy. That 15 minutes better be great," said Mr Al Sitterson, who had been standing in line outside since 5.30 a.m.
It's not as though he was going to see Monica Lewinsky in the witness box. Instead, he got 15 minutes of Congressman James Sensenbrenner jnr from Wisconsin delivering what he himself modestly told reporters would be "a blockbuster of a speech" and with "little nuggets you have not heard before".
In the taxi back to the office, the driver was listening to the "blockbuster" but was finding it "boring" as he manoeuvred through the icy streets.
And that was just the first hour. There are 47 more hours to come from the curved tables, and then any senators who are still standing or sitting have 16 hours to pose written questions through the Chief Justice.
After that things might liven up with Monica, Linda, Betty, Vernon et al on the witness stand. No explicit sex talk will be allowed to spare the senators' blushes. But it should still be better fun than the Sensenbrenner blockbuster.