Afterward he looked “dejected,” and Stuckey invited him to have a drink. They went to Comeaux’s, a bar down the street from the station, where Lee slowly nursed a beer. When Stuckey pointed out that he was not doing well with his beer, Lee answered that actually he was accustomed to vodka—his father-in-law, a colonel in the Red Army, had taught him to drink it straight.[10]
Lee told other lies, as well as one or two truths, to impress Stuckey. And in general Stuckey was impressed. He thought Lee was open, friendly, relaxed, and perhaps even relieved that his Russian past at last was out in the open. But Stuckey also got the impression that Lee, without being arrogant exactly, felt he was living in a world of clods, of men and women who were his intellectual inferiors.[11]
In fact, Lee was far from relieved. “Damn it,” he said to Marina when he returned home, “I didn’t realize they knew I’d been to Russia. You ought to have heard what they asked me! I wasn’t prepared, and I didn’t know what to say.”
Still, he was anxious to hear what he had said. He called the Murrets to let them know about the program. They were not amused. An irate Dutz said later that they had not heard the whole of the program, “but enough.”[12]
Long before the program was to go on the air, Lee switched on the radio and sat in the kitchen waiting. “Come quickly,” he called out to Marina. “I’m about to speak now.”
Marina did not understand who was saying what, but she could tell who was on what side and that Lee was claiming to be secretary of an organization. She also could tell from his voice when he was lying.
Afterward she asked, “Are they such fools there at the station that they actually believe you have an organization? One man is chairman, secretary, and sole member!”
“Maybe the debate will help, and others will join,” Lee said.
“I doubt it,” Marina replied. Her reaction was not one of pride at hearing her husband speak, but of amusement at the way he sat, “proud as a rooster,” listening to his own voice.
“Twenty minutes!” he said, when the program was over. “And I spoke longer than any of them. Every minute costs a lot on radio. And I talked by far the most.”
Whatever euphoria he may have felt at the moment, after thinking it over, Lee seems to have realized that his position as a political organizer in New Orleans had been drastically changed as a result of his exposure as an ex-defector. All through August he had continued to write Vincent Lee of the FPCC and Arnold Johnson of the Communist Party. He had sent both a small clipping from the New Orleans Times-Picayune of August 13 about his arraignment for “disturbing the peace” and had also written Vincent Lee about the August 16 demonstration and his original appearance on Stuckey’s program. But he had had no response.
Now he was baffled. Having been exposed as Marxist and possibly pro-Soviet, was it any use to go on trying to organize an FPCC chapter, or had he been totally discredited? He made a strange decision. He would seek advice, but instead of appealing to the FPCC, the organization that he feared he had compromised, he would write to the Communist Party. Since he was going to write the party, it would have been logical to write Arnold Johnson. Instead he decided, typically, that he would go straight to the top, to the Central Committee—the party’s highest governing body. It was a breach of protocol, for he was not a party member. But it shows how seriously he took himself and his dilemma. It also reveals that, as usual, he felt entitled to special consideration, even when he might have done wrong.
The letter itself was presumptuous. It opens with the greeting, “Comrades,” and closes: “With Freternel [sic] Greeting,” both party salutations that Lee was not entitled to use since he was not a member. The letter is likewise remarkable for its execrable spelling, a sign that Lee was upset, and for its totally uncharacteristic tone of humility. Lee wrote that he had lived in the Soviet Union and, on his return, had organized a branch of the FPCC in New Orleans, “a position which, frankly, I have used to foster communist ideals.” But now that his previous history had been made public in a radio program, he wondered whether he could continue to wage the struggle against “anti-progressive forces above ground,” or whether he would have to go underground. The letter closes: “I feel I may have compromised the F.P.C.C., so you see that I need the advice of trusted, long-time fighters for progress. Please advise.”[13]
As so often happened with Lee, his letter did go to the top. It reached Elizabeth Gurley Flynn, secretary of the Communist Party, and she asked Arnold Johnson to reply. Lee received an answer three weeks later. It was soothing in tone, suggested that the FPCC was broad enough in character so that Oswald might be able to work in the “background” without going “underground” and added, in response to still another letter that had been received from him, that the Communist Party might find a way to get in touch with him later.[14]
Throughout August Lee must have been considering his next move. And after the radio debate of August 21, he was ready to face the situation. He had passed out nearly a thousand handbills and membership applications, had engaged in public demonstrations, and had spoken twice over the radio. And he had not yet attracted a single follower. Nor had he had a single word of encouragement from the FPCC. He had to face the fact that for him, in New Orleans, the FPCC was a lost cause. So once again he fell back on an old plan that had been at the back of his mind for years. He would go to Cuba to fight for Castro.
The obstacles were formidable. Lee had saved a little money, but possibly not enough to get to Cuba. Moreover, the State Department had banned travel to Cuba by American citizens, and all that summer the Militant had been filled with stories about Americans who faced imprisonment and fines on their return. That was only a minor deterrent, however, for Lee did not intend to return. He hoped to stay in Cuba. Or if he did not like it there, he would go to China, or else seek readmission to Russia, where he would rejoin Marina. But the problem was how to get to Cuba in the first place.
Finally, Lee came up with a solution. About the third week in August, possibly just after his exposure in the radio debate, he announced to Marina that he had decided to go to Cuba. Since there was no legal way to get there, he was going to hijack an airplane.
“I’ll be needing your help,” he added.
“Of course I won’t help,” came the wifely response.
Lee immediately started exercising to strengthen his muscles—deep knee bends and arm exercises. Each evening he tore through the apartment in his undershorts for half an hour, making practice leaps as he went. June, who thought he was getting ready to play with her, jumped up in bed, followed him everywhere with her eyes, and burst out laughing.
Marina could not help laughing, too. “Junie,” she said, “our papa is out of his mind.”
Lee pretended not to hear.
“With shoulders like yours, exercises couldn’t hurt,” Marina commented helpfully.
Lee came up to her and flexed his muscles. “You think I’m not strong? Just feel those arms. You think I’m weak and not a man?”
“Of course. You’re just a foolish boy.”
“And whose is that?” he asked, pointing to June. “I made her.”
“That didn’t take much time,” Marina answered tartly. “I spent nine months of my time and health on her. I made her.”
Lee kept up his exercises for a couple of weeks, causing much merriment in the household. Afterward he rubbed himself all over with strong-smelling liniment, took a cold shower, and came out of the bathroom as red as a lobster.
13
Exhibit No. 1145, Vol. 22, pp. 168–169. The letter raises an intriguing question. For once, Oswald had been caught in a misrepresentation, and for the moment, at least, he showed himself chastened and willing to change course. If he had been caught oftener in his lies, or if he had suffered a good scare after his attempt on General Walker, his armor of omnipotence might have suffered a dent or two, and the magic circle of invulnerability of which he believed himself the center might have been punctured briefly. If so, would this have restrained him in the future?