When the witness raised his head after reading the names on the list, Bailey asked his first question. “Do you recognize any of the names on that list?”
“Yes,” said Mr. Bill. “Several are friends of mine. I have worked with some of the others professionally, and some I only know by reputation. All of them are highly respected, hardworking members of Southern California’s motion picture industry.”
“Very well, Mr. Weyl. Now, will you please tell the committee which of these people you know to be members of the Communist Party, have attended Communist cell meetings, or you have observed discussing Communist activities?”
The next morning, a shocking headline appeared in many of the nation’s largest newspapers.
“Indicted for Contempt of Congress”
Written by Walt Matthews
Refusing to answer questions of the House Un-American Activities Committee regarding his friends’ involvement with the Communist Party, Mr. William W. Weyl, a decorated naval aviator and celebrated screenwriter and novelist, was charged with contempt of Congress. If convicted, he can expect to spend 6 months to 2 years in a minimum-security prison.
In a private interview with Mr. Weyl, this reporter has learned that he has been terminated by his employer and that his name has been added to the Hollywood Blacklist. If convicted of contempt of Congress, he will forfeit his military and Social Security benefits in addition to doing jail time in a minimum-security prison.
After witnessing this civil rights debacle, this reporter feels compelled to ask, “If a law-abiding, highly decorated war hero, a distinguished writer of plays and movies, can be terminated by his employer and stripped of his protection under due process of law, how can we, with our more limited knowledge of the law and limited financial resources, be expected to defend ourselves against the tyranny of our own government?”
* * *
THAT SAME MORNING, SITTING AROUND THEIR CONFERENCE TABLE, members of the House Un-American Activities Committee were discussing the events of the prior day’s hearing.
“Well, Dick,” said the chairman, “I guess the bad news is that we didn’t obtain all the information we sought. On the positive side, we certainly received a lot of publicity. One thing for certain, any future witnesses will understand what can happened if they expect to protect themselves with the First or Fifth Amendments. On balance, I would say we had a pretty good day.”
CHAPTER 11
Natalie’s New Mission
LOS ANGELES, SEPTEMBER 1948
Revolted by the content of the newspaper article written by Matthews, anybody in Hollywood who wasn’t already aware of the committee’s attack was on high alert. In this environment, news of Natalie’s refusing two coveted roles rapidly spread throughout the motion picture industry. When asked about her decision, she was quoted to have said, “I regard Hollywood’s use of inquisition tactics as a corrupt and overreaching attempt to unnecessarily scare the American people about an unproven threat of Communist influence.”
Almost immediately, she started receiving calls and letters from people who wanted to compliment her on her courageous stand. Appreciative of their comments, Natalie made the time to write notes that expressed her appreciation of their support.
When she started to receive invitations requesting David and her to attend small dinner parties in private homes of some of the more prominent members of Southern California’s entertainment industry, they made an effort to accept as many as possible, so David and Natalie rearranged their busy schedules. They would depart from the Oakland train station on Thursday nights and wake up in Los Angeles on Friday mornings.
Over enjoyable meals and expensive wines served in the luxury of private homes, David and Natalie would discuss the latest developments with the seriously concerned luminaries of the film industry. The more they listened, the more they learned about how the lives of many of the more liberal personalities who might have been attracted to the politics and economics of socialist Communism were being threatened by Hollywood’s studio system and the House Un-American Activities Committee.
* * *
BACK AT THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, BERKELEY, NATALIE WAS becoming aware of her students’ interest in her weekend trips to Southern California. They were curious to learn more about what was going on behind the scenes. The suggestion that personal liberties were being attacked, copies of the blacklisted personalities were being circulated, and people were losing their jobs represented big news in the university’s liberal student environment.
One day after class, a small group of her more proactive students asked Natalie to join for an after-class cup of coffee at their small, off-campus local hangout. The growing companionship reminded her of her early life in London when she, together with her aspiring actor friends, would gather for a small cup of coffee and a lot of shop talk. There was one big difference, however. Her students were in the habit of asking highly intelligent and very penetrating questions.
Over the course of several weeks, their conversation was dominated by her students asking questions and her struggling to provide worthwhile answers. Then one day, one of her students asked, “How difficult could it be to determine if these out-of-work, established actors might find work in England’s motion picture industry?”
The comment reminded her of the same question she had previously asked David one night over dinner. His lack of response had confused her. She wondered if he did not have an opinion, or if he regarded her possible interest as a threat to their lifestyle.
Intrigued by the question, Natalie responded by asking the group for their opinion on what they thought she should do. Everyone had ideas. When she felt an idea had merit, she would attempt to focus the group’s attention on that particular idea. What had started as casual conversation quickly turned into a Socratic debate. Not wanting to forget any of the constructive questions and answers, Natalie removed a pen and notepad from her briefcase. Concentrating on writing notes, she would frequently interrupt to ask questions of clarification.
When her students began to excuse themselves, Natalie remained behind, ordered another cup of coffee, and began to study her notes. Only halfway through, a different kind of thought occurred to her. What was happening? Were we discussing all the different ways David and I might be able to solve the blacklisting problem, or were my students conducting a very interesting method of teaching and learning?
* * *
HAD NATALIE NOT BEEN SO EXCITED TO TELL DAVID ABOUT WHAT HAD happened, she might have noticed the ever-tightening expression on his face. Sitting at the dinner table, he dabbled at his food and was unresponsive. After a time, Natalie couldn’t help but notice his lack of interest or the absence of any insightful questions. Afraid she might say something she might regret, she excused herself and began to clear away the dinner dishes.
Bent over the kitchen sink, scrubbing the last of the pots, she began to think, Why shouldn’t he be interested in my new ideas? I certainly have demonstrated my interest and support for his.
When the last of the dinner dishes had been dried and put away, she started to leave the kitchen to join David for their nightly cup of tea. Some instinct told her, Why don’t you remain in the kitchen a little bit longer and think through what kind of conversation you are planning to have with David?
Pretending to sharpen the kitchen knives, she was free to let her mind run, think about things she had seen but not taken conscious notice of when they were conducting his tour of the British Commonwealth Banks. When she replayed the different meetings, she could remember the more complex questions directed toward her, the kind of questions designed to expose her more limited knowledge of the oil industry. I can still recall seeing the looks of surprise when I answered their questions, and then asked a question of my own. If I have gone to all the trouble to be properly prepared, give up my career on the stage to travel and support a man I love, why is it so wrong to assume he should be willing to at least take an interest in what I am doing?
&n
bsp; In the next moment, she would recall the conversation they had during their ride over the bridge. In one breath, he talked about how much he depended upon my constant companionship, and in the next, he talked about being supportive of anything I wanted do. What was I supposed to have believed? Have I allowed our relationship to deteriorate? Why hasn’t David said anything?
For the first time, Natalie was beginning to feel twinges of guilt over the time and energy she had been devoting to the Hollywood problem. Hopefully, things can remain on hold until I finish launching Natalie’s Bridge.
* * *
NATALIE WAS RAPIDLY BECOMING A FAMILIAR AND POPULAR FIGURE IN the City of Angels. Within a month, she had opened a small office near the corner of Wilshire Avenue and Rodeo Drive in West Los Angeles. The combination of the heavy foot traffic and the temporary sign announcing her pending opening brought much traffic, agents, and friends from the trade, who were making an effort to walk around and over the debris to talk to the famous actress.
* * *
BEFORE THE EMERGENCE OF NATALIE’S BRIDGE, NATALIE AND DAVID had been in the habit of reserving their weekends for each other. They would spend their private, quality time enjoying each other. There were no people from the entertainment industry, no curious fans, and no investment managers to distract them or interfere with exploring the many wonders of Northern California.
Moored at the Berkeley Marina was their heavy wood-planked construction, a wide-beamed boat powered by two dependable diesel engines. The sturdy seaworthy craft represented their vehicle of escape. Friday nights would be spent on board, safely moored in ship’s home birth. Friday afternoons were spent unloading and carefully storing the bounty of their afternoon spent purchasing all the supplies they would need for their next 2 days at sea. Well established habits called for Natalie to unload and store their newly purchased favorite foods and wines, clean the highly polished mahogany walls, the teak-floored galley, and the master stateroom. When she finished, she would arrange all the dinner accoutrements on the small dining table in preparation for their first dinner on board. Her work complete, she would unpack their clothes, check their bedding, and make certain everything was properly arranged in the bathroom.
Knowing how David liked to tinker in the engine room, she would open a bottle of her favorite wine, place a long-playing record on their phonograph, and proceed to her favorite on-deck chair. After she had collapsed in its comfort, she would begin to enjoy the wine, watch the sun set beyond the Golden Gate Bridge, and think about tomorrow’s start of their 2-day cruise.
Preparing the boat for their weekend cruise was one of David’s responsibilities. After opening the hatch to the engine room, he would disappear for what seemed to Natalie to be a very long time. First, he would unload his purchases from the marine store, then check each item against his list. He would then proceed to check the bilge, making certain nothing strange or unusual had leaked in the space below the powerful diesel engines and bottom of the hull. With the aid of the ever-present red shop rags, he would carefully wipe down the surface of both engines, the generator, the fuel pumps, and fuel lines. Next, he would carefully inspect the rubber motor belts, the electrical connections, and the capacities of the cooling system, oil reserves, and the fuel tanks. Pronouncing the boat seaworthy, he would proceed to replace or repair each of the items he had carefully recorded in his log book upon his last postcruise inspection.
* * *
RETURNING ABOVE DECK, HE WOULD POUR HIMSELF A GLASS OF WINE and turn the record over before joining Natalie on deck. No matter how many times he had repeated the same sequence, he always stopped to study Natalie dressed in her white dungarees, blue canvas tennis shoes, and her red and white checkered shirt neatly tied around her slim waist. When he carefully studied her, he could still see the signs of her lightly muscled body tone developed from her many years of dancing.
Studying her face as he climbed the few steps from the galley to the aft deck, he still saw the short, curly, light brown hair and her green eyes that had excited musical theater audiences in New York and London. Then there was always that moment when he had to pause and reassure himself that all this was real, not some part of a dream.
After refilling her glass, he always asked, “Well, my dear, what will it be? Would you like to sail around the bay, stopping at our favorite pier-side restaurants? Or, weather permitting, we can sail outside the bay and argue if we should turn left or right. Or, if you prefer, we can sail into the mouth of the delta and proceed along either the Sacramento or the San Joaquin rivers.”
Questioning her about her choice of destination was a game they always played over dinner. Her predictable response would always be, “What do you prefer?”
He would then respond by suggesting they visit someplace he knew she wouldn’t want to go. Smiling inwardly, he would patiently wait for her predictable response.
“Didn’t we visit there last month? Unless your mind is set on going there, why don’t we take advantage of the weather and sail north to Bodega Bay? We could moor, walk around the village, and see if they are serving sand dabs, or abalone at the small little restaurant that enjoys such a lovely cliff-side view? I think a very cold, very dry martini, and a couple of servings of fresh oysters might be a very appropriate way to start our first night at sea!”
* * *
ONE BRIGHT, SUNNY MORNING, NATALIE WAS WORKING IN HER NEW office in Los Angeles when the front door creaked open to reveal a nice-looking older lady dressed in a simple smock and chalk-white tennis shoes. The woman greeted Natalie kindly and introduced herself as Gloria Adams.
“Pleased to meet you,” said Natalie as the name registered in her brain. “Are you the Mrs. Cyril Adams who hosted all those parties Bill Weyl was being questioned about by the House Un-American Committee?”
“The one and only,” Gloria said with a knowing smile.
Not more than a few minutes of casual chatter was required before Natalie realized this was a woman with whom she wanted to become better acquainted. Asking Gloria to join her for a cup of coffee, she soon learned that this sunny woman had once been considered one of Hollywood’s most beautiful starlets, and many years ago, she had starred in a number of low-budget films. A recent widow of one of Hollywood’s more successful writers, she had remained an active participant in many of the entertainment community’s social and charitable causes.
Despite their age difference, Natalie and Gloria soon discovered they had a lot in common and shared many of the same values. From that day forward, they became fast friends—to the pleasure and the benefit of both, as they would soon discover.
Sensitive to Natalie’s busy schedule, Gloria would wait and drop by her office late in the afternoon to inquire whether Natalie had a few minutes to join her at the nearby neighborhood tavern for a glass of wine. On one such afternoon, Natalie and Gloria sat facing each other in a small booth near the far end of the bar, two glasses of chilled chardonnay sitting between them. Uncharacteristically, Gloria, the sunny woman, was agitated. Her normal, unshakable positive demeanor was giving way to something of grave concern.
After a long pause, Gloria said, “Many of these blacklisted people are friends of mine. I can no longer stand aside and watch what is happening to them. Isn’t there something I can do to be of assistance?”
CHAPTER 12
Dinner Is Served
NEW YORK, NOVEMBER 1949
When Cecelia announced dinner was being served, the Sentinels knew they were expected to stop talking, take their seats at the table, and prepare to enjoy the special meal that she had undoubtedly spent the day preparing.
After waiting for Mike to finish filling the last glass from the well-chilled, napkin-covered bottle of white wine, Jacques prepared to address his Sentinel colleagues. Taking his time, he allowed his gaze to shift from one face to another. With the exception of David Marcus, who, for some unknown reason, appeared to be upset and preoccupied, everyone else seemed to be eager to start the real business of th
e evening.
Mike suggested, “Why don’t we ask Natalie and Tony to tell us what they have been doing. Word has it that they have busy doing some very interesting things.
“Before I ask Tony to bring us up to date on the latest developments at Sentinel Vineyards, I think it might be helpful if I filled the new members in on how we came to invest $25 million in such an ambitious national premium wine experiment.
“Several years ago, in 1944, as an integral part of our plan to prevent the German industrialists from using part of their $2½ billion profits of war to finance the organization of a future Reich, we were required to do a number of things. We convinced them that the best way for them to smuggle $2 billion of gold out of Germany was to convert their wealth into more easily transported gold bearer bonds. Their adoption of our idea was contingent upon our obtaining Western World Bank approval of such a large issue to assist a sworn enemy of war. Had we failed to convince the participating banks the transfer of wealth into the Western banking system was preferable to allowing Hitler to use their money to secure the loans he needed to finance his war effort, I seriously doubt we would have received their support.
* * *
“ONCE THE ACTUAL GOLD-BEARER BONDS WERE PRINTED, WE executed the second part of our plan. Thanks to Mr. Sean Meyer, the dapperlooking English gentleman seated to my left, and Claudine Demaureux, my future wife, and the creative and highly regarded Swiss banker, we succeeded in duplicating the $100 million of the issued but un-cashed gold bearer bonds. Once we succeeded in cashing a nominal sum of our duplicate bonds, we determined bank authenticators were not able to distinguish between our forged bonds and the authentic bonds cashed by the German owners, we were ready to proceed with the third phase of our plan.
“The third part of our plan called for us to smuggle the hundred million dollars of duplicate gold-bearer bonds in $10 million increments, into 10 different Western bank centers, and present them for cashing. We were counting upon the fact that it would only be a question of time before banks, confused by the presence of identical bonds, would refuse to cash any additional bonds of that particular series. When that occurred, we would have achieved our original objective of preventing the German industrialists from using their ‘fortunes of war’ to finance the organization of a future Reich.
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