Ike and McCarthy

by David A. Nichols

  Senator Joe McCarthy had launched a frontal assault on General Dwight D. Eisenhower’s army.

  CHAPTER 4

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  THE SECRETARY AND THE SENATOR

  The implications of Joe McCarthy’s decision to pursue communists in the United States Army were profound. Henry Cabot Lodge, a frequent Eisenhower adviser, believed it proved McCarthy was out to destroy Eisenhower. Lodge told Army Secretary Robert Stevens in early 1954 that he had “no doubt” that McCarthy had picked on the Army “because Eisenhower was in the Army.”1

  But Lodge ascribed a coherence to McCarthy’s decision making that others contradicted. Deputy Attorney General William Rogers asserted, “Joe never plans a damn thing.” However, the threat was implicit, if not explicit. Roy Cohn was determined to punish the army for its treatment of David Schine, and some pundits agreed with Eisenhower that McCarthy had “the bug to run for the presidency in 1956.”2

  STEVENS TAKES CENTER STAGE

  This situation put Robert Stevens in the eye of the storm. He heard about McCarthy’s August 31 hearing about communists in the army while on vacation at his Montana ranch and quickly wired McCarthy that, as soon as he returned to Washington, he would call the senator’s office “to offer my services in trying to assist you to correct anything that may be wrong.” That action was typical for Stevens; he cherished the illusion that he could charm McCarthy into being prudent about his investigation.3

  Eisenhower knew that Stevens would need supervision. On September 7, a week after McCarthy’s first interrogation of army personnel, the president summoned Stevens to Denver. His objective was to establish a clear policy to address McCarthy’s insistence on obtaining the names of the people on the “loyalty boards”—the Truman-era panels that had cleared the senator’s August 31 witnesses for service. In addition, he apparently briefed Stevens about Fred Seaton’s new role in the Pentagon.

  After talking with the president, Stevens outlined to the press the dual strategy Eisenhower had ordained. The secretary promised “wholehearted cooperation” with McCarthy’s investigation but added that existing presidential executive orders—referring to Truman’s 1948 directive—might require him to withhold confidential loyalty information. “So far as Communist infiltration of the Army is concerned,” he said, “I’ll oppose it to the limit of my ability.” Asked if he would be willing to testify, Stevens responded, “Oh, sure.”4

  That was the plan. Officials would smilingly cooperate with McCarthy—but only to a point; then, citing the Truman ruling, they would dig in their heels about the names of panel members and the release of confidential personnel records. Herbert Brownell later called Eisenhower’s strategy “a turning point” in dealing with McCarthy. It would be subsequently codified in an executive order in November that laid the foundation for a future claim of executive privilege, to be used against McCarthy.5

  However, Steven’s reflex was to negotiate personally with McCarthy. Upon returning to his Washington office the next day, he set up a luncheon meeting with the senator. Afterward the secretary again invoked Eisenhower’s policy of cooperation—again, only to a point. He assured the press that there would be no “cover-up” or “whitewash” but said he might have to take the issue to the White House for resolution.6

  Immediately, a trio of Eisenhower’s key operatives began checking up on Stevens, fearing he might go overboard in accommodating McCarthy. The morning after Stevens’s luncheon with McCarthy, Rogers called the secretary, ostensibly about an army personnel issue. “I feel a little like Joe McCarthy, calling you on this matter,” he quipped. That was Rogers’s glib lead-in to ask about the luncheon meeting and “How are you getting along with Jumping Joe?” Stevens’s response was upbeat: “I would say I got along perfectly well yesterday. I am not the kind of a fellow to go around borrowing trouble.” He proclaimed himself “perfectly willing” to yield on small matters but, “when it comes to major policies backed by Executive Orders of the President, we are going to stand tightly and see what happens.” Rogers responded, “I think half the battle is to have a good relationship with him.”7

  Struve Hensel, the Pentagon’s general counsel, was less sanguine. On September 10, he phoned Stevens to inform him that he had discussed McCarthy’s demands regarding the loyalty boards with Assistant Attorney General Lee Rankin. Rankin had urged that they develop “an over-all policy” endorsed by both the attorney general and the White House and that Truman’s executive order prohibiting the sharing of personnel information should be rewritten. Fred Seaton provided handwritten notes on that conversation to Sherman Adams, presumably for the president’s eyes; apparently, he had been listening in on the call, five days prior to his scheduled swearing in.8

  Then McCarthy escalated his charges against the army, announcing that he had secured a “restricted” army document entitled “Psychological and Cultural Traits of Soviet Siberia.” The article had been distributed to the Army Far East Command “to develop an understanding of the Soviet people which will be militarily useful in case of war.” McCarthy described the document as “the best Communist propaganda I’ve seen in some time”—“95 per cent Communist propaganda. Two or 3 or 5 per cent is a slap on the wrist for communism.”9

  The army struck back, accusing McCarthy of releasing a “restricted” military intelligence document—an offense that, on conviction, could result in a $10,000 fine and up to ten years in prison. McCarthy confessed that he had not known the seventy-five page document was “classified,” but he was not intimidated. General Matthew Ridgway, the army chief of staff, informed Stevens that McCarthy was demanding that an officer appear before his subcommittee, “prepared to furnish details regarding this pamphlet.” Stevens wondered if he should go to New York “and see Joe or the staff and see what it is they want and when they want it and get the thing back on track.”10

  As a result of Stevens’s efforts to appease McCarthy, Doris Walters Powell, who had testified on August 31, was suspended. McCarthy called Powell “a 100 per cent Communist,” although her attorney insisted that she had never joined the Communist Party, “nor did she ever consider herself a Communist.” McCarthy called Powell’s suspension “another good, strong indication that the secretary of the army was sincere in his statement that he was going to cooperate in getting rid of Communists and alleged Communists.”11

  The Pentagon was a cauldron of fevered activity in preparation for the president’s return from vacation and McCarthy’s mounting confrontation with the army. On September 14, Stevens met with key Pentagon and military leaders. The participants agreed that it was imperative to uphold Eisenhower’s twofold strategy; the memorandum summarizing the meeting stated, “Senator McCarthy should be informed by Mr. Stevens that he (Mr. Stevens) does not intend to recommend to the President that the loyalty and security files of the employees in question nor the names of individuals who may have granted or withheld security clearances in their cases, be released.” However, the secretary would “make every effort to communicate his position to the Senator in as straightforward but friendly a manner as possible.” The conferees fully expected that, upon receiving such news, “Senator McCarthy will probably explode in the press.”12

  Three days later, Roy Cohn called Stevens to ask what time on Monday “would be convenient” for the secretary to testify at a hearing on communists in the army. Cohn’s second agenda item was about David Schine. “We are a little pressed for time on that personal matter,” Cohn said, referring to Schine. Stevens had no news to share. That was one of Cohn’s numerous calls during the month, piggybacking his queries about “that personal matter” onto subcommittee business.13

  SEATON TAKES CHARGE

  On September 15, Ike’s “reserve division” was officially deployed. Fred Seaton was sworn in as assistant secretary of defense and installed in an office next door to Secretary Wilson and general counsel Struve Hensel. Seaton had already surmised that Army Secretary Stevens was conducting a quixotic c
rusade to single-handedly manage the army’s relationship with McCarthy. That evening, Stevens flew to New York with Wilson and Treasury Secretary George Humphrey for a dinner in Stevens’s honor. At 9:45 the next morning, Stevens breakfasted with McCarthy at the Waldorf Towers suite of David Schine’s parents.14

  The day following Stevens’s breakfast meeting with McCarthy, Seaton tried repeatedly to get a phone conversation with the secretary. Finally, at 5:39 p.m., Stevens called him back. Though he was superficially friendly, Seaton’s intent was to assert his role and restrain Stevens’s penchant for personal diplomacy with the dangerous McCarthy. Seaton asked the secretary for “your own appraisal” of the meeting with the senator. Stevens asserted that “so far the thing has gone along surprisingly well.” He had agreed to provide McCarthy the names of the people who had reviewed one case involving an alleged homosexual, but “I refused, of course, on the loyalty files and things of that kind. Joe was definitely pleased with the conference; so I feel I had accomplished quite a bit.”

  It was not encouraging that Stevens had thrown McCarthy a low-level personnel bone. Mixing flattery with questions, Seaton revealed that he, too, had talked with McCarthy. “You must have done a bang-up job with him,” he said to Stevens. “He complimented you highly.” However, Seaton pointedly added, “The only thing I was surprised at was that he said he had established a liaison.” That was a sticking point; Eisenhower’s explicit assignment to Seaton was to serve as Pentagon liaison with Congress, especially McCarthy—a matter the president had surely discussed with Stevens in Colorado. However, Stevens had recruited John G. Adams, Struve Hensel’s assistant general counsel, as “the Army’s liaison with McCarthy and his committee.”15

  Stevens backpedaled, assuring Seaton that Adams, as his personal representative, would be “reasonably close to you.” Therefore, “if McCarthy calls up, and I am not here and he calls you, you take it on and see what it is and we will talk about it later.” He claimed he understood what was expected. “We will keep that”—meaning relations with McCarthy—“coordinated with you in any way you want. In other words, we will not go off here by ourselves.” The secretary exuded a nervous optimism: “I think we are getting along well with Joe,” although, he added, “I don’t know how long it will last.”

  Seaton mixed more flattery with a subtle warning. “You have done such a good job,” he said, “that you may find yourself a representative of everybody in the Department of Defense. Have you thought of that?” That was his smooth way of warning “Be careful what you do.” When Stevens said he would be pleased to be of service, Seaton responded, “I was half-serious and half-facetious.” “At the moment we are in good shape,” Stevens tried to assure him, adding “I am sure glad you are there.” Indeed, reinforcing that fact had been Seaton’s purpose for the conversation.16

  THE GENERAL RETURNS TO THE FRONT

  About 7:40 p.m. on September 19, the president’s plane, the Columbine, touched down at National Airport. Front-page pictures of the smiling, waving Ike supported a New York Times reporter’s conclusion that the president “had the ruddy look of a man who had spent much time out-of-doors.”17

  At 10:30 a.m. on September 21, McCarthy held another closed-door hearing. Afterward, he charged that material written by Russian authors containing “calculated misinformation” had been used by the US Army in courses for officers. However, he noted that Robert Stevens had been present at the hearing and that the secretary “was eager as was the subcommittee” to eliminate any Soviet propaganda in those courses.18

  On the day of that hearing, Eisenhower spoke in Boston at a Republican fund-raising dinner and addressed McCarthy’s favorite issue, “making certain that every government employee is a loyal American.” Once again, without using the senator’s name, he denigrated McCarthy’s methods. He expressed pride that “we have opposed the confusing of loyalty with conformity, and all misguided attempts to convert freedom into a privilege licensed by censors.” Eisenhower warned, “We must, even in our zeal to defeat the enemies of freedom, never betray ourselves into seizing their weapons to make our own defense.” He envisioned an America that “is too strong ever to acknowledge fear—and too wise ever to fear knowledge.” “This,” the president concluded, “is the kind of America—and the kind of Republican Party—in which I believe.”19

  On September 29, Senator Joseph McCarthy and Jean Kerr, a research assistant on his office staff, were married at the Cathedral of St. Matthew the Apostle. Vice President and Mrs. Nixon attended; so did Robert Stevens. The president and Mrs. Eisenhower sent regrets. Three White House aides, including Sherman Adams, represented the president. Ike had more pressing business. The next day, he conducted his first news conference since leaving for vacation in Colorado and began by stating “I intend to designate Governor Earl Warren as Chief Justice of the United States.” Given the importance of that news, reporters did not bring up McCarthy’s investigation of the army.20

  The issue of internal security—McCarthy’s issue—hovered over almost every presidential meeting. At the October 2 cabinet meeting, C. D. Jackson, Eisenhower’s psychological warfare advisor, shared that Theodore Streibert, the new USIA head, “had separated 2500 people since taking charge of the new Information Agency.” Eisenhower exploded: “If there are 2500 security risks in one office, I am going to quit!” Jackson hastened to explain that not all of the 2,500 were security risks, and that the number reflected a general reduction in personnel.21

  In spite of constant urging to crack down on McCarthy, Eisenhower resolutely maintained his commitment to speak about “principles, not personalities.” Still, some of the president’s most fervent supporters could not comprehend his refusal to speak out. His brother Milton shared a letter with Ike from Nicholas Roosevelt, an author, diplomat, and distant cousin of Theodore and Franklin. Roosevelt implied that the president had become the captive of his party’s reactionary wing, personified by Joe McCarthy, “neo-fascist, insanely ambitious and utterly unprincipled.” Roosevelt lamented “the President’s failure to stand up to McCarthy.” Ike wrote Milton “a personal and confidential” response to Roosevelt’s letter, encouraging him to write his own letter summarizing the president’s thoughts.

  Eisenhower’s reaction to Roosevelt’s critique was harsh: “The writer labors under the false but prevalent notion that bullying and leadership are synonymous; that desk-pounding is more effective than is persistent adherence to a purpose and winning to that purpose sufficient support for its achievement.” “As for McCarthy,” he continued, “only a short-sighted or completely inexperienced individual would urge the use of the office of the Presidency to give an opponent the publicity he so avidly desires.” He said he had repeatedly spoken out, “without apology or evasion,” for upholding “the right of the individual, for free expression of convictions, even though those convictions might be unpopular, and for uncensored use of our libraries, except as dictated by common decency.” The president asserted, “There would be far more progress made against so-called ‘McCarthy-ism’ if individuals of an opposing purpose would take it upon themselves to help sustain and promote their own ideals, rather than to wait and wait for a blasting of their pet enemies by someone else.”

  Eisenhower wrapped up his argument: “I have no intention whatsoever of helping promote the publicity value of anyone who disagrees with me—demagogue or not!” “I have not changed,” he declared. “I stand for exactly the same things that I have stood for for many years.” As president, he had “never indulged in bitter personal indictment or attack. To my mind, that practice smacks more of the coward and the fool than the leader.”22

  The president’s anger reflected his growing impatience with both McCarthy and those who were harassing him to crack down on the senator. Still, Roosevelt had touched a nerve; Ike passed the letter to Bryce Harlow, his congressional liaison aide, who responded, “in some respects this man is wrong, in my opinion; in some respects, he should be listened to.” Harlow’s counsel was
not to openly confront McCarthy but instead to present a major legislative program to Congress for debate during 1954. In an election year, Congress “will weasel, procrastinate, compromise, bicker and frustrate. In the process, it will probably fail to do much that you seek to have done and will probably do quite a number of things you will find very distasteful.” That, he argued, would provide the moment to confront the demagogues by appealing to the American people. “If you make the fight when the gauntlet is thrown, the Nation, I believe, will rally to you and not to the Congress.” During the subsequent two months, Eisenhower largely adopted Harlow’s strategic vision; he began to put together an ambitious legislative program that would be a direct challenge to the conservative wing of his party.23

  ASSAULT ON FORT MONMOUTH

  Fred Seaton had good reason to worry about Robert Stevens. On October 2, the Army secretary made a major concession to McCarthy’s staff. Roy Cohn and Frank Carr, the McCarthy subcommittee’s executive director, had selected Fort Monmouth in New Jersey, where Julius Rosenberg had worked, as a prime target for investigation. The two men came to Stevens’s office to complain that Major General Kirk V. Lawton, the post commandant, was stonewalling their requests for personnel to testify. In their presence, Stevens phoned Lawton about his employees who were “under a cloud” and stated, “I now authorize you in my name to give permission in any cases that may be involved.” Stevens was confident that “nothing but good will come out of it.” Though the Truman executive order forbade sharing personnel files, Stevens emphasized that “if a properly accredited representative of one of the committees of Congress wants to call a member of your establishment to talk to them there or have him appear before a hearing, I want to make him available.”24