Six Crises

by Richard Nixon

  And since we live in an age in which individual reaction to crisis may bear on the fate of mankind for centuries to come, we must spare no effort to learn all we can and thus sharpen our responses. If the record of one man’s experience in meeting crises—including both his failures and his successes—can help in this respect, then this book may serve a useful purpose.

  SECTION ONE

  The Hiss Case

  The ability to be cool, confident, and decisive in crisis is not an inherited characteristic but is the direct result of how well the individual has prepared himself for the battle.

  “IF it hadn’t been for the Hiss case, you would have been elected President of the United States.” This was the conclusion of one of my best friends after the election of 1960.

  But another good friend told me just as sincerely, “If it hadn’t been for the Hiss case, you never would have been Vice President of the United States or candidate for President.”

  Ironically, both of my friends may have been right.

  The Hiss case was the first major crisis of my political life. My name, my reputation, and my career were ever to be linked with the decisions I made and the actions I took in that case, as a thirty-five-year-old freshman Congressman in 1948. Yet, when I was telling my fifteen-year-old daughter, Tricia, one day about the subjects I was covering in this book, she interrupted me to ask, “What was the Hiss case?”

  I realized for the first time that a whole new generation of Americans was growing up who had not even heard of the Hiss case. And now, in retrospect, I wonder how many of my own generation really knew the facts and implications of that emotional controversy that rocked the nation twelve years ago.

  It is not my purpose here to relate the complete story. What I shall try to do in these pages is to tell it as I experienced it—not only as an acute personal crisis but as a vivid case study of the continuing crisis of our times, a crisis with which we shall be confronted as long as aggressive international Communism is on the loose in the world.

  The Hiss case began for me personally on a hot, sultry Washington morning—Tuesday, August 3, 1948—in the Ways and Means Committee hearing room of the New House Office Building. David Whittaker Chambers appeared before the House Committee on Un-American Activities to testify on Communist infiltration into the federal government. Never in the stormy history of the Committee was a more sensational investigation started by a less impressive witness.

  Chambers did not ask to come before the Committee so that he could single out and attack Alger Hiss, as much of the mythology which has since grown up around the case has implied. The Committee had subpoenaed him in its search for witnesses who might be able to corroborate the testimony of Elizabeth Bentley. Miss Bentley had caused a sensation three days earlier when she named thirty-two government officials who she said had supplied her with classified documents which she, as courier for a Soviet spy ring, had then put on microfilm and passed to Russian agents in New York for transmittal to Moscow. The individuals named by Miss Bentley had been called before the Committee. The majority of them refused to answer questions on the ground that the answers would tend to incriminate them. Others categorically denied having given assistance to any spy ring. The charges were significant and sensational—but unsubstantiated.

  We then learned from other sources that Whittaker Chambers, a Senior Editor of Time, had been a Communist functionary in the 1930’s, and we subpoenaed him to testify on August 3. I first saw Chambers in a brief executive session which was held in the Committee office prior to the public hearing. Both in appearance and in what he had to say, he made very little impression on me or the other Committee members. He was short and pudgy. His clothes were unpressed. His shirt collar was curled up over his jacket. He spoke in a rather bored monotone. At first, he seemed an indifferent if not a reluctant witness. But his answers to the few questions we asked him in executive session convinced us that he was no crackpot. And so we decided to save time by going at once into a public session. None of us thought his testimony was going to be especially important. I remember that I considered for a moment the possibility of skipping the public hearing altogether, so that I could return to my office and get out some mail.

  There were relatively few in the hearing room when Chambers began his public testimony. The spectator section was less than one-third full and the only reporters present were those who covered the Committee as a regular beat. The public address system was out of order and Chambers constantly had to be reminded to keep his voice up so that the Committee members and the press could hear what he was saying. He identified himself and began reading a prepared statement in a rather detached way, as if he had an unpleasant chore to do which he wanted to get out of the way as quickly as possible. As he droned on, I found my thoughts wandering to other subjects. He was halfway through the statement before I realized that he had some extraordinary quality which raised him far above the run of witnesses who had appeared before our Committee. It was not how he spoke; it was, rather, the sheer, almost stark eloquence of phrases that needed no histrionic embellishment.

  He explained that he had joined the Communist Party in 1924 because he had become convinced that Communism was the only sure way to progress, and that he had left the Party in 1937, at the risk of his life, when he became convinced that it was a form of totalitarianism which meant slavery to all mankind.1 And then, speaking with what seemed to me almost a sense of sadness and resignation, he said: “Yet so strong is the hold which the insidious evil of Communism secures upon its disciples that I could still say to [my wife] at the time—‘I know that I am leaving the winning side for the losing side but it is better to die on the losing side than to live under Communism.’” From that moment, I came more and more to realize that despite his unpretentious appearance, Chambers was a man of extraordinary intellectual gifts and one who had inner strength and depth. Here was no headline-seeker but rather a thoughtful, introspective man, careful with his words, speaking with what sounded like the ring of truth.

  Chambers went on in his statement to name four members of his underground Communist group whose purpose, he said, was not espionage but rather “Communist infiltration of the American government.” The four were: Nathan Witt, former Secretary of the National Labor Relations Board; John Abt, former Labor Department attorney; Lee Pressman, former Assistant General Counsel for the Agricultural Adjustment Administration, later Counsel for the Works Progress Administration, and later still, General Counsel for the CIO; and Alger Hiss who, as a State Department official, had had the responsibility for organizing the Dumbarton Oaks world monetary conferences, the U. S. side of the Yalta Conference, and the meeting at San Francisco where the UN Charter was written and adopted.

  Under further questioning, Chambers also identified two more as Communists: Donald Hiss, Alger’s brother, who had been in the Labor Department; and Henry Collins, who had also been in the Labor Department, and later served with the U. S. Occupation Forces in Germany. He named as a “fellow traveler” Harry Dexter White, who had reached the position of Assistant Secretary of the Treasury before leaving government service. Most of the questioning that day, in fact, pertained to White because Elizabeth Bentley had also named him and because he had held the highest government position of all those she had accused of espionage activity. Chambers said that Mrs. Alger Hiss, too, was a Communist, but just as categorically he stated that Mrs. Donald Hiss was not. This was not a man who was throwing his charges about loosely and recklessly. Still, because his accusations did not involve espionage, they made little impression on me or the other Committee members.

  This was the first time I had ever heard of either Alger or Donald Hiss. My attention that morning centered on another phase of Chambers’ testimony, and it was the only point on which I questioned him during the time he was on the stand. What disturbed me was that Chambers testified he had told his story to government officials nine years before—and nothing had happened. Not only that, but Chambers stated that on thr
ee other occasions since then he had repeated the story to representatives of the government—at their request—and still, so far as he knew, no action had been taken to investigate his charges.

  Chambers testified that he left the Communist Party in 1937 but said nothing to government officials about his past affiliation for two years thereafter. But in 1939 the signing of the Hitler-Stalin pact was so frightening to him that he felt he could no longer keep silent. Even though he was risking his own reputation and safety, he went to Washington as a “simple act of war” and told his story to Adolf A. Berle, Jr., who was then Assistant Secretary of State for Intelligence. Berle, whom Chambers was careful to identify as an anti-Communist, became very distraught by what he heard and took extensive notes on the conversation. But Chambers’ charges were so incredible and the temper in Washington at that time was such that when Berle reported the story to his superiors, he was told in so many words to “go jump in the lake.” Years passed during which Chambers heard nothing whatever about what action, if any, had been taken with regard to his charges.

  Then, in 1943, agents from the FBI visited him at his farm in Westminster, Maryland, and Chambers repeated his story in detail. Again, nothing happened. In 1945, and in 1947, he told the same story to FBI agents but, to his knowledge, no action was taken. It should be emphasized that during this period, J. Edgar Hoover, to his eternal credit, was conducting constant investigations of Communist infiltration in the United States generally and the government in particular, despite the fact that the official Administration policy was to “get along with Stalin.” But Hoover had the power only to conduct investigations. He could not follow them up with prosecutions or other required action without the approval of his superiors in the Justice Department and in the White House.

  As Chambers testified that morning in his low, rather monotonous voice, most of the Committee members and the reporters at the press table yawned, took sporadic notes, and waited for the “spy stories” which never came.

  His testimony made headlines the next day, but they were not nearly as sensational as those Elizabeth Bentley had drawn. For my own part, I gave very little thought to Chambers or his testimony that evening or the following morning, until Robert Stripling, the Committee’s chief investigator, phoned me to say that the Committee had received a telegram from Alger Hiss requesting an opportunity to appear in public session to deny under oath all the allegations made about him by Chambers. Hiss was the only one named by Chambers who volunteered in this way. His request was granted immediately, and his appearance was set for the next day, August 5.

  Hiss’s performance before the Committee was as brilliant as Chambers’ had been lackluster. The hearing was held in the caucus room of the Old House Office Building, which was much larger than the room in which Chambers had testified. It was filled to capacity. The press section was crowded with newsmen, many of whom were acquainted with Hiss and had gained respect for the ability he had demonstrated as head of the Secretariat at the San Francisco Conference which set up the UN organization. In this position, one of his jobs had been to brief the press and, in the process, he had earned their respect for his intelligence and over-all competence.

  When he appeared on the morning of the fifth, Hiss immediately went on the offensive.

  He told the Committee in a clear, well-modulated voice: “I was born in Baltimore, Maryland, on November 11, 1904. I am here at my own request to deny unqualifiedly various statements about me which were made before this Committee by one Whittaker Chambers the day before yesterday.

  “I am not and never have been a member of the Communist Party. I do not and never have adhered to the tenets of the Communist Party. I am not and never have been a member of any Communist front organization. I have never followed the Communist Party line directly or indirectly. To the best of my knowledge none of my friends is a Communist.”

  Hiss next reviewed his government career, and it was impressive to everyone in the room. After graduating from Johns Hopkins University and the Harvard Law School, he had served for a year as Clerk to Supreme Court Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes, a signal honor for any Harvard Law graduate, had practiced law for three years, and then had come to Washington—in 1933—and became Assistant General Counsel (along with Lee Pressman) to the Agricultural Adjustment Administration. In 1934, he became Counsel to the Senate Committee Investigating the Munitions Industry (the Nye Committee). From there, he went to the office of Solicitor General Stanley F. Reed, who was later to be appointed to the U. S. Supreme Court. In September 1936, at the request of Assistant Secretary Francis B. Sayre, he joined the State Department, where he remained until January 1947. He resigned from government to accept the presidency of the Carnegie Endowment, one of the most respected private organizations in the field of foreign affairs. Its Board Chairman was John Foster Dulles.

  Dulles, at the time of this hearing, was the chief foreign policy adviser to the Republican nominee for President, Governor Thomas E. Dewey. Hiss told the Committee that it was Dulles who had asked him to take the job at the Carnegie Endowment.2

  Hiss described his work in the State Department—including his preparing the draft of the U. S. position for the Yalta Conference and then accompanying former President Roosevelt to the conference. His manner was coldly courteous and, at times, almost condescending.

  Had he concluded his testimony at this point—after denying any Communist affiliations or sympathy—he would have been home free. Hundreds of witnesses had denied such charges before the Committee in the past and nothing more had come of it because it was then simply their word against that of their accusers. In fact, this was one of the primary reasons the Committee itself was under such attack in the press at that time.

  But here Hiss made his first and what proved to be his irreversible mistake. He was not satisfied with denying Chambers’ charge that he had been a Communist. He went further. He denied ever having heard the name Whittaker Chambers. “The name means absolutely nothing to me,” he said.

  When Robert Stripling, the Committee’s chief investigator, handed him a photograph of Chambers, he looked at it with an elaborate air of concentration and said, “If this is a picture of Mr. Chambers, he is not particularly unusual looking.” He paused and then, looking up at Congressman Karl Mundt, the acting Chairman of the Committee, added: “He looks like a lot of people. I might even mistake him for the Chairman of this Committee.”

  Hiss’s friends from the State Department, other government agencies, and the Washington social community sitting in the front rows of the spectator section broke into a titter of delighted laughter. Hiss acknowledged this reaction to his sally by turning his back on the Committee, tilting his head in a courtly bow, and smiling graciously at his supporters.

  “I hope you are wrong in that,” Mundt shot back quickly.

  “I didn’t mean to be facetious,” Hiss replied, “but very seriously I would not want to take oath that I had never seen that man. I would like to see him and then I would be better able to tell whether I had ever seen him. Is he here today?”

  He then looked from side to side, giving the impression that he did not have the slightest idea who this mysterious character might be and that he was anxious to see him in the flesh.

  “Not to my knowledge,” answered Mundt.

  “I hoped he would be,” said Hiss, with an air of apparent disappointment.

  It was a virtuoso performance. Without actually saying it, he left the clear impression that he was the innocent victim of a terrible case of mistaken identity, or that a fantastic vendetta had been launched against him for some reason he could not fathom. But even at that time I was beginning to have some doubts. From considerable experience in observing witnesses on the stand, I had learned that those who are lying or trying to cover up something generally make a common mistake—they tend to overact, to overstate their case. When Hiss had gone through the elaborate show of meticulously examining the photograph of Chambers, and then innocently but also somewha
t condescendingly saying that he might even mistake him for the Chairman, he had planted in my mind the first doubt about his credibility.

  Karl Mundt, an experienced and skillful investigator, came back at Hiss strongly. He said, “You realize that this man whose picture you have just looked at, under sworn testimony before this Committee, where all the laws of perjury apply, testified that he called at your home, conferred at great length, saw your wife pick up the telephone and call somebody who he said must have been a Communist, pleaded with you to divert yourself from Communist activities, and that when he left you, you had tears in your eyes and said, ‘I simply can’t make the sacrifice.’”

  “I do know that he said that,” replied Hiss. “I also know that I am testifying under those same laws to the contrary.”

  And so it went through the balance of the hearing. He so dominated the proceedings that by the end of his testimony he had several members of the Committee trying to defend the right of a congressional committee to look into charges of Communism in government.

  But looking over my notes on his testimony, I saw that he had never once said flatly, “I don’t know Whittaker Chambers.” He had always qualified it carefully to say, “I have never known a man by the name of Whittaker Chambers.” Toward the end of his testimony, I called Ben Mandel, one of the members of our staff, to the rostrum and asked him to telephone Chambers in New York and find out if he might possibly have been known under another name during the period he was a Communist functionary. The answer came back too late. After the hearing was over, Chambers returned the call and said that his Party name was Carl and that Hiss and the other members of the Communist cell with which he had worked had known him by that name.

  As the hearing drew to a close, Karl Mundt, speaking for the Committee, said, “The Chair wishes to express the appreciation of the Committee for your very co-operative attitude, for your forthright statements, and for the fact that you were first among those whose names were mentioned by various witnesses to communicate with us, asking for an opportunity to deny the charges.”