by Irwin Shaw
“Yes,” Archer said, thinking, one thing I never imagined was going to happen this afternoon was that I was going to get a lecture on international affairs.
“Now,” Hutt went on, “I think of myself as a loyal American. My family arrived here in 1710. Ancestors of mine have been in Congress from three states.”
“My grandfather,” Archer said, absurdly, “fought in the Civil War.” As he said it he was ashamed of bringing the dead old man into the conversation.
“Good,” Hutt said generously, posthumously decorating the hero of Cold Spring Harbor with his approval. “So I take it, you are as devoted to preserving this country as I am.”
No, Archer thought, I am not going to keep yessing him, parading my patriotism and the patriotism of my grandfather to please him.
“The Secretary of State,” Hutt said, “has invented a phrase to describe our defensive activities in this period. Total diplomacy,” Hutt licked his lower lip, relishing the words. “Total diplomacy means exactly what it says—it means all the powers of this country, all the strength of its citizens, are combined in this single effort. Nothing,” Hutt said slowly and gravely, “and nobody is left out or exempt. Not you or me or O’Neill or the five ladies and gentlemen we are being forced to release. In total diplomacy, Archer, as in total war, we must be ready to discipline all citizens who give aid and comfort to the enemy … or,” he took the cigarette holder out of his mouth, with a definite, emphasizing gesture, “any citizen who potentially might give aid and comfort to the enemy.”
Here, Archer thought, we reach the crucial ground. “I am not convinced,” he said, “that Pokorny or Herres or any of the others are giving or will give aid and comfort to Russia.”
“You are making an individual judgment,” Hutt said pleasantly, “that does not coincide with the stated policy of the Government of the United States. These people all belong to organizations which the Attorney-General has declared to be subversive.”
“I may disagree with the Attorney-General,” Archer said.
“I do not,” said Hutt crisply. “And what’s more—if I may say so without offense—your agreement or disagreement is not of very great importance. During the war, when the Army ruled that a certain area of a town was out of bounds—say the Casbah in Algiers—the fact that the individual soldier saw no harm in the Casbah did not prevent him from being picked up by the MP’s and punished if he was found there. Even in the freest society, Archer, the opinions of the individual are finally limited by the decisions of authority.”
“You’re talking about a wartime situation,” Archer said, “when certain rights have to be put in abeyance …”
“We live in a curious age,” Hutt said, smiling warmly, “when grown, sensible, well-educated men and women cannot agree whether they are at war or not. Once more, forgive me if I look to authority in this matter. The Government, and remember, again, Archer, it is a government which you helped put in power, the Government says we are at war. In 1941, when the Government said we were at war, you believed it, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Before December 7, 1941, you would not have dreamed of firing a shot at a Japanese soldier, would you? And, after August 14, 1945, you would again refrain from firing at such a soldier. But in between, if you happened to be where it was possible to do so, you would have killed as many soldiers of the Japanese Army as you could, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes,” Archer said helplessly, thinking, this gentleman must have gone to Harvard Law School.
“So, as you agreed,” Hutt said, lighting another cigarette, “in this field you forego the right to make personal decisions. What was true in 1941 cannot be any less true in 1950.”
“Let’s drop that angle for the time being,” Archer said, feeling cornered, “and let’s look at the people themselves.”
“If you insist,” Hutt said regretfully.
“I insist,” Archer said. He stood up and started to walk around the office, trying to break out of the grip of Hutt’s logic. “For one thing—we don’t even know whether they belong to those organizations you mention.”
“I know,” Hutt said.
“How?”
“I’ve read the article accusing them and I’ve been in touch with the editor and I’m satisfied.”
“You haven’t asked the people themselves, have you?”
“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Hutt said.
“I do,” Archer said.
Hutt smiled and shrugged. “Each one to his taste,” he said. “I am deferring to yours to the extent of two weeks.”
Archer rubbed the top of his head nervously, then pulled his hand away, fearing that Hutt, who missed nothing, would realize that it meant he was uncertain of himself. “Also,” Archer said, striding up and down in the bare office, over the thick cold rug, “the organizations aren’t all the same. It’s one thing to belong to the Communist Party, although I won’t even admit that that’s grounds for punishment yet, and another to belong to the League of Women Shoppers.”
“The Attorney-General,” Hutt said, “does not draw quite so fine a line.”
“I am annoyed with the Attorney-General,” Archer said.
“A good Democrat,” Hutt grinned. “An appointee of your friend, the President.”
“Again,” Archer said, staring at O’Neill, who was, slumped deep in his chair, with his eyes closed, “there is the question of time and the question of intention. It is one thing to have joined the Friends of the Soviet Union in 1943, when they were our allies, and another to join it in 1950. And it is one thing to join an organization for the purpose of promoting peace, say, and another to join for the purpose of promoting revolution.”
“Those are theoretical differences,” Hutt said, “and practically, I’m afraid they diminish every day.”
“I’m interested in theory,” Archer said. “I’m a very theoretical man.”
“It’s a luxury I wish I could afford,” Hutt whispered. He smiled agreeably up at Archer, standing before his desk. “Unfortunately, I am in a position in which I can only afford to be interested in results. In a way, Archer, I find your defense of these people admirable. No. …” he waved his hand as though to dismiss Archer’s remonstrances, “I really am. It springs out of two admirable qualities, loyalty to your friends and an abstract sense of justice. If you want to know the truth, I’m a little ashamed of myself that I cannot indulge fully in those qualities. There are certain classes of people, who for one reason or another, find themselves, in certain situations, indefensible. That’s harsh—but it does no good to pretend otherwise. Actors, radio actors especially, are members of that class. They are like the old gladiators in the Roman circus. If they please the public and the emperor by their performance, they are spared when the sword is at their throat. Thumbs up. But if they, for any reason whatsoever,” Hutt said deliberately, “displease the public and the emperor—thumbs down. I understand O’Neill explained this to you.”
“O’Neill explained it,” Archer said flatly. “Without the classical allusions.”
“Now, actors are terribly vulnerable,” Hutt went on evenly, “because their art is personal. It is their bodies and their voices and their personalities that they must make agreeable to their public, directly. So, if I were an actor, I would be most careful to remain politically neutral at all times. That is,” Hutt smiled thinly, “if I intended to pursue my career fully. I would realize that I could not afford to antagonize any section of my audience. Each man must look realistically around him and mark out the limitations of his personality and profession, and content himself with working within them. If he doesn’t …” Hutt shrugged. “He must not be surprised when he is hurt. Like crime, unreality does not pay. And actors, for another reason, should be discouraged by their friends from entering the political arena. Actors, almost by necessity, must be rather childish, undeveloped, emotional, unstable, irrational …” Hutt looked obliquely up at Archer to see how he was taking this. “And politi
cs demand reason, stability, coldness of outlook. You can almost be certain that any actor who engages in politics, on any side, is going to wind up by behaving like a damn fool. At other times, when the general atmosphere was more relaxed, they could be forgiven. Today, we are too pressed to be in a forgiving mood. Today, Archer, and please remember this, because you will finally have to make certain choices yourself, we are living in a fearful, vindictive, unforgiving time. The rules of the game are being changed. One strike and out.”
“Don’t you think the players should have been warned about the new rules,” Archer asked, “before they got up to bat?”
“Perhaps,” Hutt said carelessly. “But that isn’t the way it works. In this field, the rules are always made behind closed doors and on the spur of the moment. And you’re likely to find out that they’ve really been in existence, secretly, for ten years, and that your side has actually been retired a long time ago, although you’ve been permitted to go through the motions of competition again and again.”
“That’s horrible.”
“We live,” Hutt said gaily, “in a horrible world. Now—I’m going to ask you—just once—and without trying to apply any pressure—to waive your two weeks and release those people immediately.”
“No,” said Archer. “I can’t do it.”
“Just exactly what do you hope to accomplish?” Hutt asked.
“On my terms,” Archer said, sitting down again, because he felt it would help him overcome his increasing nervousness, “I may find out that all five of the people are innocent. And even on your terms, I may be able to prove that one or two or three of them deserve to be spared.”
“I can assure you,” Hutt said, “that there is almost no hope of that. They have been accused and that is just about enough. I don’t say that means that they are all equally guilty—but I do say that it means that they are no longer—” he paused, “—useful.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Hutt,” Archer said, “I can’t go along with that. I can’t accept a blanket indictment. They’re five different, individual people I know and I’ve worked with, with five different histories, five different crimes or five different alibis.”
“Once again,” Hutt said, “let me go back to the premise that you keep avoiding. The premise that we are at war. In a war, actions are approximate, not individual. When we dropped bombs on Berlin, we did not carefully pick out SS colonels and members of the Nazi diplomatic corps as our targets. We dropped them on Germans, because Germans were, in general, our enemies. We never managed to kill Hitler, did we, although we killed thousands and thousands of women, children, and old men who were, I suppose, by peaceful standards, quite innocent. Become modern,” Hutt said cheerfully. “Learn to be approximate.”
“That’s a disease,” Archer said. “I prefer not to be infected.”
“Perhaps you’re right,” said Hutt. “But remember that it’s a disease that the Communists started. Not us.”
“I’m also opposed to the theory,” Archer said, “that one must always embrace the enemy’s sickness. Look, Mr. Hutt, maybe we’re just wasting each other’s time …”
“Oh, no,” Hutt whispered hastily, “I’ve found this most interesting. We never have gotten a chance to really talk seriously about things, Archer. And I must confess I’m not as sure as I sound. And this little conversation has helped clarify quite a few matters for me. I hope it has done as much for you. And for O’Neill.”
“I was out late last night,” O’Neill mumbled, in his corner. “I’m sleepy. Nothing is clear to me except that I must go to bed early tonight.”
Hutt chuckled, indulging his lieutenant. “Perhaps,” he said gently to Archer, “perhaps we may have to resign ourselves to an unhappy fact. Perhaps we live in a time in which there are no correct solutions to any problem. Perhaps every act we make must turn out to be wrong. You might find some comfort in that, Archer. I do. If you’re resigned in advance to knowing that you can’t act correctly, no matter what you do, maybe you will be relieved of some of the burden of responsibility.”
“I have not yet reached that austere height,” Archer said, “and I doubt that you honestly feel that you have, too.”
Hutt nodded. “You’re right. Not yet. Not yet.”
“I have to ask you one thing, Mr. Hutt. And I expect an honest answer.” Archer saw Hutt’s face stiffen at this, but he continued bluntly. “I want to know if anything can change your mind about any of these people. If I can prove that some of them are not Communists or fellow-travelers, and are, in fact, anti-Communist, would you still say they have to be fired?”
“As I said before,” Hutt said, “I don’t believe you’ll be able to prove that.”
“If I can prove it, will it make any difference in the way you act?”
“It’s all so conditional, Archer …”
“Because,” Archer said, interrupting, “if not, I’d rather know it now.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ll quit now. This afternoon.” He felt his hands begin to shake and despised himself for the fluttering weakness. He stared coldly at Hutt. Hutt leaned back in his chair, looking at the ceiling, the cigarette holder at a jaunty angle in the corner of his mouth, the well-made suit creasing easily across his shoulders.
“There’s no need to do that,” Hutt whispered finally, his face pointed toward the ceiling. “I’m open.” He swung back to face Archer and smiled. “Not very open. But enough.”
“Good,” Archer said. “Now, may I ask you another question?”
“Of course.”
“What about the sponsor? Does he know about this?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” Hutt said. “He was sent the article and a letter from the magazine the same day I was.”
“What is his reaction?”
“He called me that morning and told me to fire the five people immediately. Really, Archer, you can’t blame him.”
“I’m not blaming anyone—yet,” Archer said. “Now—what if I went to the sponsor with absolute proof and he …?”
“That would be quite out of the question,” Hutt said coldly. “It is the policy of this office to keep all problems about the programs within the organization. You may speak to the sponsor only at his request, when he wishes to invite you on social occasions. On all other matters I am his one and only contact. I hope that’s perfectly clear, Archer. Two years ago, on a much smaller matter, I was forced to release an account executive who broke this rule and out of misplaced enthusiasm went over my head to talk to a sponsor. You understand what I’m saying?”
Archer nodded, registering the threat. He stood up. “Well,” he said, keeping himself calm, “that does it for now, I guess.”
Hutt stood up politely. “I wonder,” he said, with uncharacteristic hesitancy, “if I might deliver a small warning, Archer. For your own good.”
“Yes?” Archer said, putting on his coat and picking up his hat.
“Be careful. Don’t be hasty,” Hutt said earnestly. “Don’t expose yourself. Don’t be quixotic, because the world doesn’t laugh at Quixote any more; it beheads him. Be discreet in your methods, and in your choice of friends whom you wish to defend. Don’t depend too much upon reason, because you are being judged by the crowd—and the crowd judges emotionally, not reasonably, and there is no appeal from an emotional conviction. Avoid the vanguard because you will attract attention up front, and it is hard to survive attention these days. You’re a valuable man and I admire you and I don’t want to see you destroyed.”
“Wait a minute,” Archer said, puzzled. “I haven’t done anything. Nobody’s accused me of anything.”
“Not yet.” Hutt came around from his desk and put his hand lightly and in a friendly manner on Archer’s elbow. He seemed dapper and insignificant standing up, away from the cold bulwark of his desk. “But if you become known as a partisan of an unpopular group—for whatever innocent reasons—you must expect to have the searchlight put on you. Your reasons will be investigated—everything
about you will be investigated. People you’ve forgotten for ten years will come up with damaging misquotations, memories, doubtful documents. Your private life will be scrutinized, your foibles will be presented as sins, your errors as crimes. Archer, listen to me …” Hutt’s voice sank even lower and it was hard for Archer to hear him even though he was standing next to him. “Nobody can stand investigation. Nobody. If you think you can you must have led your life in deep freeze for the last twenty years. If there were a saint alive today, two private detectives and a newspaper columnist could damn him to hell if they wanted to, in the space of a month.” Hutt dropped his hand from Archer’s arm and smiled, to show he was through being serious. “There is a motto,” he said, “I am thinking of putting up over the doorway here—‘When in doubt, disappear.’ ”
“Thanks,” Archer said, shaken and disturbed because he saw that Hutt was really trying to help him and that Hutt actually did like him—or liked him as much as he could like anyone. “I’ll keep all this in mind.”
“It was very good of you to come up this afternoon,” Hutt said, moving to the door and opening it. “I’ve enjoyed our little talk.”
“Good-bye,” Archer said. He waved to O’Neill. O’Neill grunted in the darkness as Archer went out of the office. Hutt closed the door softly behind him.
5
ARCHER GOT OUT OF THE ELEVATOR IN THE LOBBY OF THE TALL BUILDING in which Hutt had his office and went over to a phone booth in an alcove to one side. He sat down on the little curved bench and stared at the instrument before him. There were four people whom he would have to call some time within the next week and he wondered if there was some particular order which would be most profitable. He felt incompetent and shaken. The two weeks that he had to work in seemed ridiculously short and inadequate. I have a hard enough time deciding what I believe myself, he thought. How can I ever find out what four other people believe in only fourteen days? This is the year, he thought, for a man to be ignorant, confident and rich.