The Pledge (30 page)

“I see no harm done, Miss Kline,” the judge said. “The confusion has been rectified.”

“Then,” Button said to Crown, “consulting the record, I find that the question about communist membership was not the first question put to Mr. Bacon in that matter of Miss Maguire. What was the question before the communist question?”

Again, Sylvia rose to object. Button's clumsy formulation simply displayed the word
communist
again and again. It was a trigger word, requiring neither proof nor reflection.

“You don't have a valid objection, Miss Kline, but I do suggest that Mr. Crown consult the record. He may read from it.”

Button smiled and agreed and turned to the jury, placing the hearing record in context with all the gentle forbearance he could muster. Crown read from the record:

“Crown: ‘Molly Maguire. Do you know her?'

“Bacon: ‘Yes, I do.'

“Crown: ‘Do you know that she is an employee of the
Daily Worker?
'

“Crown: ‘Mr. Bacon.'

“Bacon: ‘Yes — I'm sorry. I was thinking.'

“Crown: ‘Concerning one Molly Maguire. I asked you whether you know that she's an employee of the
Daily Worker?
'

“Bacon: ‘You know that as well as I do, and your question is pointless. Now I have something to say to you. Since I am here as a witness before a congressional committee, I will answer any —'

“Nixon: ‘Will you please answer the question!'

“Bacon: ‘I will answer any question about myself. I will not answer any question about Molly Maguire. I have broken no law. Neither has she, and under the law and usage of this land, I am not required indeed to answer any of your questions. If I do, I degrade myself.'

“Crown: ‘Is Molly Maguire a member of the Communist Party?'”

At that point, Button held up his hand. “That will be sufficient, Mr. Crown. According to the record, Mr. Bacon refused to answer any other question. Is that so?”

“Yes, sir.”

Button turned to Sylvia. “Your witness.”

Sylvia turned toward the jury, and Bruce could guess that, once again, since they had been chosen, Sylvia was trying to find an open face, a hint of compassion somewhere, even a shadow of anger; but the faces were lax and loose and meaningless. They were required to sit in a jury box; they were not required to listen or think, and they knew how they must vote. Nevertheless, she smiled at them. She was attractive when she smiled.

“Mr. Crown,” she said, “I want you to continue to read from the record at the point where you left off.”

Button was on his feet with an objection, holding that cross-examination could only be on what had been read.

“I think not,” the judge said, a moment for benevolence. “You opened and introduced the whole record.”

“Please, Mr. Crown,” Sylvia said.

“I have watched,” Crown read from the record, “and written about a world conflict to rid this earth of Adolf Hitler and Nazism. I find your tactics no different from his.”

“Thank you, Mr. Crown,” Sylvia said. “And now, just to clarify things, when Mr. Bacon made that statement, he was referring to the House Committe on Un-American Activities. Is that not so?”

“Yes.”

“And to clarify it even further, he was referring to practices that opened the way for Hitler and the creation of Nazi Germany?”

“No. There is no comparison.”

“But you just agreed to a comparison. That is all. Thank you.”

Button was on his feet again. “Did you agree to a valid comparison, Mr. Crown?”

“No, I did not.”

“Thank you,” Button said, offering his own smile to the jury.

Lunchtime, Molly informed them that she had shared the witness room with a snake.

“Well, we're sharing the courtroom with some.”

“Be specific,” Sylvia said.

“His name is Lucas Gregory. He used to be the religion editor of the
Daily Worker.
”

“Come on. You're kidding. Religion editor on the
Daily Worker?”

Molly leaned over, kissed Bruce on the cheek and sympathized that illusions die hard. “We don't teach atheism, and to tell you the truth, very few reds are atheists. It's just too damned hard, especially since so many of us come from Catholic and Jewish homes. One religion is substituted for another, and if you don't think that socialism and the brotherhood of man is religion, you're missing the point. On the
Worker
, the religion editor is supposed to analyze politically the various positions of the various religions, and that used to be the job of Mr. Gregory. About six months ago, when the going got rough and the communist leaders were indicted, Brother Gregory got religion himself and became a witness for the Feds. Or maybe he was a plant from the very beginning. Who knows?”

Sylvia nodded. “He'll finger Bruce?”

“That's my guess. He'll finger him as a Party member.”

“Isn't that perjury?” Bruce asked.

“It certainly is. But he's their witness and they decide what is and what isn't perjury.”

“But it's Bruce's statement that he's not in the Party. Can't they get Bruce for perjury?” Molly asked. “That's what scares the devil out of me. Perjury's five years.”

“No way. Forget it, Molly. I explained the situation to Bruce. There's no way they can prove perjury, not even with a lousy D.C. jury. They'll use the tactic here as a tactic, that's all.”

Which was exactly what they did, shortly and to the point. Button called Gregory, and then Button said, “Let it be noted that I am reading from the record, already entered as evidence, of the hearing of a subcommittee of the House Committee on Un-American Activities. Quote: ‘Mr Crown: Now I will ask you: Are you now or have you ever been a member of the Communist Party of the United States?'

“Mr. Bacon's reply: ‘Not ever and not now.'

“Mr. Crown: ‘Very well. Have you ever been a member of a communist front organization?'

“Bacon: ‘You'd have to be more specific.'

“In reply to Mr. Bacon's request, Mr. Crown, counsel for the committee, specified: ‘You spoke to a group called the Broadway Forum, at the Murray Hill Hotel. The Broadway Forum is on the Attorney General's list of communist front organizations.'

“And in response to this, Mr. Bacon said: ‘I don't belong to the Broadway Forum, if indeed it has a membership. I was invited to speak to a group of journalists, and I did.'”

At this point, Button returned to his table, dropped the record, and turned to Lucas Gregory and said, “You have heard the material read from the record of Mr. Bacon's examination by Mr. Crown, as counsel for the committee?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I would like you to keep it in mind. Were you ever a member of the Communist Party, Mr. Gregory?”

Gregory was a stout, prim little man. No more than five feet, six inches in height, he had pink cheeks, pale eyes, and a bristle of sandy hair. He was in his mid-fifties, wore a pince-nez, and answered questions with a beseeching smile. Afterward, Sylvia remarked that he made a convincing witness, to which Molly replied that he had certainly had sufficient practice.

Before answering, Gregory placed his pince-nez in his vest pocket — he wore a neat, vested worsted suit — and stretched the moment. No quick, top-of-the-head answers for him. “Yes,” he said, “I was a member of the Communist Party for twelve years. Prior to that, I taught in the divinity school of which I was a graduate.”

“And what led you into the Party, Mr. Gregory?”

“Misplaced idealism, sir. I saw it as a road toward true Christian socialism and the eventual brotherhood of man.”

“And why did you leave the Party, Mr. Gregory?”

“Because I found that my expectations were cruel delusions. I found that this so-called Party of the Working Class was a tool of the Soviets —”

Sylvia objected. “My client is not on trial for being a communist, which he is not, and neither is the Communist Party on trial.”

“Do you intend to connect this?” the judge asked Button.

“I do, Your Honor.”

“Then I'll allow it and overrule your objection, Miss Kline.”

“Nevertheless,” Button said to Gregory, “you became the religion editor of the
Daily Worker.”

“That is correct, sir.”

“Now let me ask you this, as an expert in Communist Party tactics, is the Broadway Forum a communist front?”

“Absolutely. It was organized by the Party for a very specific purpose.”

“And what is that purpose?”

“To introduce innocent people to aspects of the world as seen and interpreted by the Communist Party.”

Again, Sylvia objected to a definition of the Party being imposed on the jury before any evidence had been presented, and again the judge overruled her objection.

“Would the Broadway Forum present a speaker who was not a communist?”

“Possibly — on some very few occasions. But for the most part, the speakers are card-carrying members of the Communist Party.”

“I see. Now in your opinion, Mr. Gregory, is Mr. Bacon a card-carrying member of the Communist Party?”

Sylvia leaped up with her objection. “Your Honor, how can he offer an unsubstantiated opinion as evidence? I object most strongly!”

“He is an expert witness, an authority on the subject. He offers only an opinion. I am sure Mr. Button will elicit the reasons why Mr. Gregory holds this opinion.”

“Yes.” Button smiled. “And what is the basis, Mr. Gregory, of your opinion that Bruce Bacon is a card-carrying member of the Party?”

“Well, sir, like this: one, he spoke at the Forum. Two, he included no criticism of the Soviet Union in his remarks. Three, he spoke of connections with the Communist Party of India, which would have been unlikely if he were not a member of the American Party. Four, he spoke without notes —”

“What exactly do you mean by ‘without notes'?” the Federal attorney asked.

“I mean, sir, he appeared thoroughly trained in his subject — which for the most part was an attack upon an ally of the United States, namely Great Britain.”

“I see. Now does that sum up — is that the extent of your feeling that Mr. Bacon is a Communist?”

Bruce, sitting behind the defense table alongside Sylvia Kline, could not believe that what his eyes and ears perceived was actually happening. Never would he have believed that a process so crude, so lugubrious, so inept, could be taking place in the capital of his own country, the United States of America. Thinking of the trial before it took place, he had imagined some brilliant and intricate contrivance, done with wit and Machiavellian intrigue, a parade of glossy false witnesses who would weave a web of destruction about him. But instead, a stupid and unbelievable little plot was being spelled out to a bored, blank-faced jury who were obviously indifferent to the matter at hand. The Federal attorney's small invention would have stumbled badly if not for a friendly judge, and the placing on the witness stand of a man so witless and indifferently corrupt as Lucas Gregory was an act of desperation — where no desperation was required.

“There was a fifth reason,” Gregory said, smiling, “but it appears to have slipped my mind.”

“No matter, Mr. Gregory, your four good reasons are sufficient for our purpose.” He turned to Sylvia with a slight bow. “Your turn, Miss Kline.”

“Thank you,” Sylvia said, not rising immediately but sitting and staring at Lucas Gregory as if he were something she could not comprehend. Then she sighed, shook her head sadly, and rose and walked slowly around the table. She stood staring at the table for a long moment, and then she picked up a clipping of newsprint and said to Gregory:

“This is a clipping from the
Daily Worker
, an issue in October of nineteen forty-five. I will enter it as evidence, and then I have certain questions pertaining to it.” She handed the clipping to Judge Wilson, who read through it and then handed it to Button. The clipping was entered and stamped, and then Button asked permission to approach the bench. Both he and Sylvia then went to the bench, where Button entered strong objections to the reading of the clipping.

“I know how you feel, Mr. Button,” the judge said, “but you called Mr. Gregory as an expert witness. This speaks to his work in the Party.” He handed the clipping back to Sylvia, who then read it aloud to the jury:

“From the
New York Daily Worker
, October twenty-seventh, nineteen forty-five: ‘I have spoken to pastors of four Christian faiths, and all of them agree that the incredible defeat and destruction of the Wermacht of Nazi Germany by the Red Army of the Soviet Union must be seen as an act of divine providence. If we are to say that God is in history and that God moves with history, then certainly the communist movement is an expression of the will of the Almighty. This is not my construction, but one that reflects the thinking of the four Christian ministers I interviewed. Of course, my thinking is Marxist in content, and I might put it differently.' This is something that you wrote at that time, Mr. Gregory, is it not?”

“I can hardly remember every piece I've written. But if you say it carries my byline, I wrote it.”

“And the opinion it offers of the Communist Party is quite different from the opinion you expressed a few minutes ago under the questioning of Mr. Button, is that not so?”

“If you say so.”

“I do say so,” Sylvia said, turning to the jury. “And the opinion it offers on the Red Army and the Soviet Union is also quite different from what you expressed here in this courtroom. Is that not so?”

“My eyes were blinded to the full reality — as were the eyes of many, including the President —”

“A plain yes or no will do. The opinion was different. Is that not so?”

“Yes.”

“Is it true, Mr. Gregory, that you became an agent for the FBI while you were still pretending to be a loyal Party member?”