She arrived a moment later, and, taking the paper with him, he walked into the makeup room and sat in the plushly upholstered barber’s chair. He glanced at the front page while the makeup girl did her work.
His secretary walked into the room. “Shirley,” she said to the makeup girl, “Will you excuse us for a moment?”
“Sure, Connie,” the woman replied. “I’ll be outside.”
“What’s up, Connie?” Vance asked. She had a funny look on her face.
She held out a letter. “This was with your mail,” she said.
55
Sid Brooks left his Washington hotel with an hour to spare before the hearing. He thought that, since he was early, he’d take a look around the Capitol. The only time he had been there before was for the first hearing.
It was rush hour in Washington, and cabs were scarce. There was a line of people waiting for the doorman to get taxis, so Sid walked up to Pennsylvania Avenue to look for his own cab. He did not notice that two men were following him.
He stopped at the corner and put a nickel into a newspaper vending machine for a Washington Post, and as he straightened up, something hit him on the side of his head, behind the ear. The blow staggered him, but he kept his feet and managed to square off against his attackers. They were both bigger than he and wearing business suits and hats, and both had clenched fists as they came at him again. He threw his newspaper in the face of one of them, and that gave him time to kick the other man in the knee, effectively taking him out of the fight. The other man recovered and came at him. He caught Sid high on the cheek, but Sid counterpunched with a straight left to the man’s nose, hoping to draw blood. He had been taught at the settlement house as a boy that an attacker’s sight of his own blood would discourage him, and it worked. The man ran, one hand over his face.
He turned back to the other man, who was struggling to his feet and hobbling away. He looked back at Sid and shouted, “Fink!” Sid did not pursue them. He gathered his paper together and got lucky finding a cab. By the time he arrived at the Capitol he had stopped trembling, and his breathing was normal. He walked slowly around the rotunda for a while, looking at the pictures and the sculptures, then he found the hearing room, and a guard checked his name off a list and admitted him.
The hearing room was smaller than the last one he had visited. There were few people in attendance and only one photographer, who took his picture as he seated himself in the front row.
Shortly, the committee members filed in, and, after discussing some procedural matters, the chairman instructed a guard to call the first witness.
“Sidney Brooks!” the man intoned.
Sid stood, walked to the table before the committee and sat down.
“Mr. Brooks,” the chairman said, “are you represented by counsel?”
“No, Mr. Chairman.”
“Do you wish to be represented by counsel?”
“No, Mr. Chairman.”
“Then be sworn.”
Sid took the oath, then addressed the committee. “Mr. Chairman, I would be grateful if I could make a short statement before questioning begins.”
“All right, Mr. Brooks, proceed.”
Sid took a deep breath. “Mr. Chairman, some time ago I appeared briefly before this committee as what was known as an unfriendly witness. Since that time I have had an opportunity to reflect at length on my situation, and a number of life-altering events have occurred that have helped me in my thinking: I became unemployable, my wife left me, many people I had looked upon as friends stopped speaking to me and I was twice physically attacked, most recently when I was on the way to this hearing this morning.
“Perhaps if I were a more stubborn person, these events would have only increased my resolve; instead, they have made me see that, if I am to choose sides in this matter, I initially chose the wrong one. I am here today to rectify that.
“In 1935, when, like millions of Americans, I was depressed over the state of the country, I joined the Communist Party, because I thought that, based on their written statements, they might do something to improve things. I was wrong about that, of course; they have improved nothing and have been the cause of the disruption of a great many American lives. I am happy to say that, during the ensuing years, I have been a very bad Communist. Now, starting today, I am going to try to be a better American.
“Finally, let me say that I have not changed my mind that this committee has no constitutional right to question any American on his political views or to punish him for not answering. However, I have decided to freely volunteer to answer all of your questions today. I do so in the knowledge that having alienated half the people in my life, I will now alienate the other half, but I can live with that. Please ask your questions.”
The chairman designated a man to his left as the first questioner.
“Mr. Brooks, you’ve already told us that you are a Communist, is that right?”
“I’m sorry, Congressman. I neglected to mention that I recently resigned from the party, so I am no longer a Communist.”
“I’m glad to hear that. Sir, do you regret having joined the Communist Party when you did so?”
“I certainly do, Congressman. The experience over the years has given me much pain and little joy.”
“You said that you were impressed by the written statements of the party and that caused you to join. Which statements impressed you?”
“Congressman, I have discovered that the party is very good at co-opting those things about this country that are good, like free speech and free association. I have also discovered that none of the things they advocate in this country would ever be allowed in the Soviet Union or any other Communist country. All the party has achieved in those places is to make its ordinary citizens more miserable than ever, and I am sure that, given the opportunity, they would do exactly the same here.”
Sid was then asked to name names, and he dutifully recited those that he had been given.
“Are you aware, sir, that all those names were previously known to this committee?”
“I am.”
“Is that why you chose to name them?”
“The names were proposed to me by committee staff.”
“All right. Let’s talk a minute about a name that was not included in your recitation, that of Alan James, the movie actor.”
“The late movie actor.”
“Yes, the late movie actor. Was Mr. James, to your knowledge, a member of the Communist Party?”
“Yes, sir. He joined on the same day that I did.”
“Do you have any knowledge that he, in any of the films he made, voiced Communist propaganda?”
“No, sir, I do not. And may I point out that actors do not make up the words they speak in films; they read the scripts that are written by people like me.”
“And have you ever voiced Communist propaganda in writing your scripts?”
“No, sir, I have not.”
“Have you ever been asked to by other Communists?”
“On two occasions, sir, I was asked to include rather innocuous statements about the good life in the Soviet Union, and I declined to do so on both occasions, because I knew these statements were lies.”
“Who asked you to do this?”
Sid paused for a moment. “I’m afraid I don’t recall; it was a very long time ago, when I first began writing for pictures. I don’t even remember if it happened at the studio or at some party function.”