Advise and Consent (38 page)

“Because I don’t think he should be Secretary of State,” the witness said, shooting another quick glance at the nominee, who ignored it.

“Why not?” Seab asked. “Just because you think he discharged you unfairly from his agency and you want to get revenge on him, is that it, Mr. Gelman?”

“No, sir,” the witness said with a sudden surprising show of indignation. “I don’t think any man should be Secretary of State who is like Mr. Leffingwell.”

Seab Cooley paused for a moment while along the committee table his colleagues leaned forward intently and silence held the room.

“What is Mr. Leffingwell like, Mr. Gelman?” he asked softly.

“I don’t believe he is a loyal citizen of the United States,” Herbert Gelman said.

“And you are, Mr. Gelman?” Seab asked bluntly.

“Yes, sir,” the witness replied.

“How do we know that, sir?” Senator Cooley asked. “Just on your own say-so, is that how? Just because you say so?”

“I guess it comes down to that,” the witness said quietly.

“Some of us, you know,” Seab said, “may want more proof than that, Mr. Gelman.”

“Ask me about what I told you,” the witness suggested, “and maybe that will convince some people.”

“Yes, sir,” Senator Cooley said. “I just wanted you to know that it isn’t always easy to convince people when it’s a matter of matching your word against another man’s, particularly a man so popular and with so many friends in Washington and in the press as Mr. Leffingwell has. I’ve tried to match my word against his sometimes, myself,” he added with an amiable grin that again brought tension-lifting laughter to the room, “and I know.”

“It’s been about a draw, Senator,” the nominee offered with a smile, and Seab smiled back.

“About,” he said. “Where did you go to college, Mr. Gelman?”

“The University of Chicago,” the witness said.

“Did you take any courses from Mr. Leffingwell?”

“I did.”

“How many?”

“His administrative government course,” Herbert Gelman said, “and the following year a seminar for graduate students.”

“How many were in the seminar?” Senator Cooley asked.

“Ten,” the witness said.

“Oh,” Seab said with an air of sardonic surprise. “I thought there might have been three hundred. Did you get to know Mr. Leffingwell on a friendly basis in the seminar?”

“I did.”

“Had he asked you, in fact, to take the seminar?”

“Yes, he did,” Herbert Gelman said. “I had been one of his top students in the administrative government class the year before.”

“You know Mr. Leffingwell says he doesn’t know you and has never even heard of you,” Senator Cooley said.

“He is lying,” Herbert Gelman said quietly, and there was a startled gasp in the room.

“In fact, he knew you so well that he gave you top marks in one class and invited you to take another with him,” Seab said.

“Yes, sir.”

“What happened then?”

“He invited me to his rooming house on several occasions after the seminar, which was held in the evenings,” the witness said. “We talked about government and politics mostly.”

“What night of the week?” Seab asked.

“Thursday,” Herbert Gelman said. Bob Leffingwell looked surprised and once again turned around to catch his wife’s eye, grinned, and waved. She waved back, and a little comfortable stir of friendliness flickered through the audience.

“What happened then?” Seab asked.

“On the third occasion he suggested that he knew an informal group that liked to get together and chew the fat on these things and he wanted to know if I would like to go with him. He said it met at ten o’clock on Thursday nights after the seminar. I said yes, so we went.”

“What was the address of his rooming house?” Senator Cooley asked.

“It was 2726 Madison Street,” the witness said promptly.

“And where was the meeting held?”

“At 2731 Carpenter,” Herbert Gelman said.

“Jesus,” the
Herald Tribune
whispered. “This looks bad.” “It’s only the opening round,” the
Post
assured him calmly. “Wait awhile.”

“What was the meeting?” Senator Cooley asked.

“It was a campus Communist cell,” the witness said quietly.

“You realize, Mr. Gelman,” Brigham Anderson remarked, “that you may be jeopardizing your government employment with these statements.”

“They’re the truth,” the witness said stubbornly. “I’d be jeopardizing it if I committed perjury too, wouldn’t I?”

“You would,” Senator Anderson said.

“All right,” Herbert Gelman said.

“And the nominee, Mr. Leffingwell, nominated for this great office of Secretary of State, attended these Communist cell meetings with you,” Seab resumed.

“He did,” the witness said.

“Was he an active participant?”

“He was,” Herbert Gelman said.

“What was his party name, so-called?” Senator Cooley asked.

“Walker,” the witness said, and there was again a gasp from the audience.

“Was there anyone else of particular prominence in the cell?” Seab asked. The witness paused thoughtfully.

“I only saw him four or five times,” he said. “He was wearing a beard then, so I probably wouldn’t know him if I saw him now. His name was James Morton. I don’t know what became of him.”

“What was your password at these meetings, Mr. Gelman?” Senator Cooley asked.

“‘They’ll understand in Dubuque,’” Herbert Gelman said.

“How did you arrive at that?”

“That came about,” the witness explained, “because we had a saying sort of based on that old saying about
The New Yorker
magazine—you know, that it wasn’t for the old lady in Dubuque. Our saying was that when the revolution came it would be sufficiently drastic so they’d even understand it in Dubuque. In time this got shortened to just, ‘They’ll understand in Dubuque.’ I know it sounds kind of corny.”

“Just corny enough,” Seab told him softly, “so that it just might be true, Mr. Gelman. And you actually said,” he added in a disbelieving tone, “when the revolution comes?”

“I suppose that sounds silly now too,” the witness said with an apologetic smile, “but we did. We meant it too, in those days.”

“And those days,” Seab said, “were after World War II when the Communist conspiracy against the free world was apparent to all thinking men.”

“They were,” Herbert Gelman said.

“Is there anything you wish to add, Mr. Gelman?” Seab asked.

“No, sir,” Herbert Gelman said.

“You are aware of your oath to tell the truth,” the Senator said.

“I am,” the witness said.

“And you have told the truth in every particular?”

“In every particular,” the witness replied.

“No further questions, Mr. Chairman,” Seab said. “I release the witness to the subcommittee if you care to question him.”

“Yes, Mr. Chairman,” Arly Richardson said quickly. “I would like to interrogate a little.”

“Go ahead, Senator,” the chairman said.

“You sent me the telegram that I read into the record yesterday,” Arly said.

“I did,” Herbert Gelman said.

“Why didn’t you come to me in person?” Arly demanded.

“He’s just jealous,” the Chicago
Daily
News
whispered. “Wants to be in the act,” the Des Moines
Register
agreed.

“Well, I—”

“Why didn’t you come to me in person?” Senator Richardson repeated.

“I was reluctant, Senator,” the witness said. “I wasn’t really sure I wanted to do this, but I thought if you traced me through the university and found me, then I would have to.”

“And this would have solved some moral problem in your own mind, Mr. Gelman,” Arly said.

“I felt it would, yes, sir,” the witness replied.

“What was that problem?” Senator Richardson asked.

“I didn’t want to testify against a man who had been my friend,” Herbert Gelman said in a low voice.

“Yet you called yourself deliberately to the attention of this subcommittee, so that you would sooner or later have to testify, isn’t that right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“That strikes me as a rather peculiar procedure, Mr. Gelman,” Senator Richardson said.

“It might be for a strong man,” Herbert Gelman said with his apologetic little smile, “but I’m afraid I’m not very strong, Senator.”

“You appear to me to be quite strong enough to have done Mr. Leffingwell considerable damage here today,” Arly Richardson said dryly. “And when you learned the university said it had no record, you decided then to go to the Senator from South Carolina. You realize, of course, Mr. Gelman, that you are making extraordinarily serious charges against a man who has filled public office under this government for thirteen years with generally high regard and respect from the country, don’t you?”

“I do, sir,” the witness replied.

“And you know he has been appointed to an office involving the most profound trust and honor, in which he will have the fate of this country in his hands in many international dealings?”

“That’s why I’m here, sir,” Herbert Gelman said quietly.

“
Why
are you here, Mr. Gelman?” Arly asked.

“For what I’ve done,” the witness replied.

“And what was that?” Arly asked. “Did you start any riots? Did you touch off any bombs? Did you kill anybody for the cause?”

“No, sir,” Herbert Gelman said.

“How many of you were there in this so-called cell?” Senator Richardson asked.

“Four,” the witness said, and there was a skeptical titter from somewhere in the audience. “Mr. Leffingwell, myself, one other who is dead, and James Morton.”

“That’s not a very big group to overturn the government,” Arly suggested.

“No, sir,” Herbert Gelman said.

“And you didn’t plot anything?”

“Not to my knowledge, no, sir,” the witness said.

“In short, you just talked, didn’t you?” Senator Richardson said.

“Yes, sir,” the witness said.

“And that’s all you did. A few ineffectual meetings fourteen years ago. Is that all?”

“I’ve felt badly about it, Senator,” the witness said with a certain stubborn quietness.

“And you aren’t just out to get Mr. Leffingwell because he got you fired from the FPC?” Orrin Knox asked.

“No, sir,” Herbert Gelman said.

“You’ve forgiven him for that,” Orrin said dryly. The witness smiled his little half smile.

“No, sir,” he said.

“But revenge isn’t a sufficient motive in your mind to warrant such grave charges as these?” Senator Knox inquired.

“No, sir.”

“How do we know you’re not crazy?” Senator DeWilton demanded suddenly from his end of the table, and the witness smiled again.

“Do I seem crazy?” he asked quietly.

“You’re telling a crazy story,” Johnny DeWilton said.

“Do I sound crazy?” Herbert Gelman asked.

“I don’t know,” Johnny DeWilton confessed. “I can’t tell.”

“I don’t think you’re telling us all you know, Mr. Gelman,” Senator Winthrop said, and again the witness smiled.

“Maybe Mr. Leffingwell can bring it out when he questions me,” he suggested.

“Are there any further questions by the subcommittee?” Senator Anderson asked. “If not, I think we will let Mr. Leffingwell cross-examine.”

“Mr. Chairman,” the nominee said quietly, “perhaps Senator DeWilton is in doubt, but I am not. This man is obviously insane, and while I certainly do intend to cross-examine, I would like to ask that it go over until tomorrow, when I shall have been able to gather together certain material I wish to use as a basis for questioning.”

“You realize, of course, Mr. Leffingwell,” Senator Anderson said, “that if you let his testimony stand overnight without challenge the press perforce will have to carry it without your rebuttal for nearly twenty-four hours before your side can be told.”

“I realize, Mr. Chairman,” the nominee said quietly, “but I am going to throw myself on the mercy and the sense of fair play of my countrymen and trust that they will withhold judgment until I have had a chance to develop my defense.”

“The subcommittee is perfectly willing to have you cross-examine now,” the chairman repeated, “or have you make any preliminary statement you care to make.”

“I prefer to wait, Senator,” Bob Leffingwell said.

“Very well,” Brig said, “the subcommittee stands in recess until ten o’clock tomorrow morning.”

The room exploded into an excited babble of sound as the audience began to leave and Herbert Gelman, looking neither to right nor left, darted hastily out like some small secretive animal while the nominee watched him go with an expression of half amusement, half contempt in his eyes.

“Well,” Brigham Anderson said as Dolly and her guests came forward to the table, “some show, eh, Robert?”

“Yes,” the Majority Leader said thoughtfully. “I wonder why he didn’t want to cross-examine now.”

“Think of the build-up in interest and tension in twenty-four hours,” Senator Anderson said. “He knows what he’s doing.”

“My, it’s exciting!” Kitty Maudulayne said. “Do you really think this little man is right? Do you really think Mr. Leffingwell is a Communist? Wouldn’t that be exciting, you with a Communist for Secretary of State!”

“The thought,” Brig said dryly, “makes me positively giddy. What do you think, Tom?”

“I don’t know what to think,” Senator August said in his gentle, worried way. “It certainly upsets things, doesn’t it?”

“It certainly doesn’t smooth them down,” Bob Munson said. “But I never thought it would be easy.”

“I can see I’d better get interested in this, now that Dubuque’s been brought into it,” Lafe Smith said with a grin.

“You’re right on that,” Bob Munson remarked to Seab as he came slowly along to join them. “It is just corny enough so that it might be true.”

Seab smiled sleepily and made no answer, but instead bowed elaborately to the ladies.

“I hope you all weren’t disappointed,” he said.

“You gave us our money’s worth, Senator,” Dolly said. “We'll be back for the sequel tomorrow.”

“Good,” Senator Cooley said. “I just suspect—I just suspect it may be a leetle dramatic. Just a leetle.”

“That’s a safe prediction,” Verne Cramer observed. “When egghead meets egghead it’s no yolk, right, Robert?”