This was the first of hundreds of points of order McCarthy would introduce during the course of the hearings. He may have thought this was an effective way to interrupt the proceedings and inject his thoughts and opinions. The members of the subcommittee soon came to resent the interruptions. As for the television viewers at home, most were shocked at first, and then annoyed, by Joe's rude behavior. It wasn't long before radio and TV comedians began to imitate the senator's flat, droning voice saying "point of order" over and over. If Joe was aware that he was being laughed at, he didn't let on.
Secretary Stevens took the stand on April 24 for the first of what would be thirteen days of testimony. Under subcommittee counselor Ray Jenkins's relentless cross-examination, Stevens came across as sincere but often confused and awkward in his answers. He replied to one of Jenkins's questions about a phone call from Roy Cohn by saying, "I don't think I did, probably." The Army's counsel, Joseph Welch, knew he had to turn the situation around somehow before Stevens became a laughingstock on the witness stand.
At last, on April 27, Welch saw an opening. That morning, Ray Jenkins introduced as evidence a photo taken in late November 1953, shortly after David Schine had begun basic training at Fort Dix. McCarthy, Roy Cohn, and Frank Carr had met Secretary Stevens in New York to discuss the ongoing Fort Monmouth investigation. Afterward, Cohn had said he'd like to visit David Schine at nearby Fort Dix, and Stevens quickly arranged the trip. When they arrived, a photograph was taken of the group with Colonel David Bradley, a key officer at the base. In the picture, Schine stood between Stevens and Bradley.
Roy Cohn remembered the photo when he was gathering evidence for the hearing. He thought it would indicate that Stevens and Schine had been on good terms, since both men were smiling. Ray Jenkins agreed and asked a subcommittee staff member to obtain a copy of the "picture of Stevens with Schine." The man promptly did so, but then he had the picture altered so that it showed only Stevens and Schine. He said later he thought that was what Jenkins wanted.
During the hearing on April 27, Ray Jenkins displayed the picture to everyone present, unaware that it had been changed. Jenkins went on to allege that Secretary Stevens had specifically asked to have his picture taken alone with Schine. This, Jenkins said, proved there were no ill feelings between Stevens and Schine at the very time the Army claimed Roy Cohn had begun harassing the Army secretary.
It so happened that Joseph Welch, in preparing for the hearings, had seen the original photograph and remembered it. Now he charged that Ray Jenkins had presented as evidence "a doctored or altered photograph ... as if it were honest." He went on to contend that, in the original, "Stevens was photographed in a group" and that he was smiling at Col. Bradley, not at Schine.
Welch's revelation created a tremendous stir in the hearing room and in the media. The subcommittee spent long hours trying to find out who had done the doctoring and for what purpose—or purposes. Reporters and columnists remembered how Joe had used an altered photograph to help defeat Senator Millard Tydings, and they speculated that he was behind this attempt to sway public opinion in favor of David Schine.
As for Welch, he had achieved his goal of swinging the spotlight away from Secretary Stevens's inept testimony. He also had beaten McCarthy at his own game. Joe long ago had learned that unproved charges (and doctored photos) had a far greater effect on public opinion than lengthy recitals of the facts later on. Now, before the facts were in, Welch had used the altered photo of Stevens and Schine to cast doubt on the subcommittee's case.
McCarthy protested that he had had nothing to do with the doctoring. In this instance he was probably telling the truth, but the American people had already formed their opinion, and most of them did not believe him. Joe wasn't about to give in, however. His frustration and anger rose to the surface when Welch had James Juliana, an aide to Roy Cohn, on the witness stand. Welch was questioning Juliana about the photo, which, before it was altered, had hung on the wall of David Schine's New York office. "You did know what hung on Schine's wall when that was handed to you, sir."
"I did not know what hung on Schine's wall," Juliana said.
Welch held up the picture, which had been introduced as evidence. "Did you think this came from a pixie? Where did you think this picture that I hold in my hand came from?"
Joe interrupted the proceedings to say, "Will counsel for my benefit define—I think he might be an expert on that—what a pixie is?"
McCarthy probably thought his question would fluster Welch and shift the gathering's focus away from the photo, but it had the opposite effect. Welch quickly replied, "Yes. I should say, Mr. Senator, that a pixie is close relative to a fairy."
Laughter broke out in the hearing room. Everyone present knew that James Juliana worked for Roy Cohn. They also knew that "fairy" was a slang word for homosexual. They inferred that the Army's counsel was calling Cohn a fairy—and they laughed.
"Shall I proceed, sir?" Welch asked Joe. "Have I enlightened you?"
There was no way McCarthy could top Welch, so he merely repeated himself. "As I said, I think you may be an authority on what a pixie is." The senator sat back in his chair, and Welch continued his questioning of Juliana.
Joseph Welch (left) raises a point with Sen. McCarthy (right) during the Army-McCarthy hearings. The Library of Congress
This sort of exchange was repeated over and over in the days and weeks that followed. Joe would continually interrupt the presentation of the Army's case with a point of order or some other objection. His goal was obvious: to wear down the opposition—in this case, the Army and its counsel, Joseph Welch—until they were so tired of the fight that they would, in effect, surrender and let him have his way. That was why he kept calling the Army's case against Cohn and Schine a mere "distraction." He wanted to put it behind him, he said, so he could get on with the "serious business" of rooting out Communists in defense plants.
But the Army and Welch were just as determined not to let McCarthy emerge victorious this time. They had a strong case against him and Cohn, and they intended to pursue it to a successful conclusion, no matter how long it took. Backing them up, silently but strongly, was President Eisenhower, who still hesitated to intervene personally but made his position clear to Vice-President Nixon and others he met with behind the scenes.
Not every Republican agreed with the president. Conservative senators like Karl Mundt and Everett Dirksen feared that the hearings were damaging the party's image among voters. Many Republican senators and congressmen would be up for reelection in the fall of 1954. Dirksen and Mundt worried that the longer the hearings went on, with their charges and countercharges, the more the Republican candidates' chances for victory would suffer.
The senators had good reason for their concerns. TV viewership of the hearings increased as the hearings continued instead of declining, as some had predicted. The Army-McCarthy telecasts proved to be a new kind of phenomenon, and a preview of TV news spectaculars to come. Viewers might not grasp all the details of what was discussed, but they became involved with the central figures in the hearings as if they were characters in a soap opera. Secretary Stevens was the sincere and kindly uncle who meant well even when he couldn't express himself clearly. Roy Cohn was the fast-talking, shifty-looking wise guy whom you'd have doubts about if he tried to sell you a house or a car. By contrast, lawyer Welch was the good neighbor with a crinkly smile and a sharp wit who always made you laugh.
And Joe—well, Joe just wasn't appealing on television, especially when you saw him every day. You began to notice his wrinkled suit, and the combover that only made him look balder, and the dense five-o'clock shadow that gave him the appearance of a man who hadn't shaved in a couple of days. Then there was the glowering expression he wore most of the time, and the low, threatening monotone of his voice. It was no wonder his poll ratings kept going down while Welch's went up.
During the hearing on May 4, McCarthy made a rash move that got him into more trouble. He and Cohn had been try
ing to establish that Secretary Stevens had attempted to block their Fort Monmouth investigation. Now Joseph Welch introduced as evidence a letter from Army files proving that Stevens had done everything he could to facilitate the investigation.
Cartoonist Herblock's comment on the manufactured "evidence" that McCarthy introduced at a key point in the Army-McCarthy hearings. The Library of Congress
Not to be outdone, Joe fell back on a ploy he had often used when he wanted to change the subject. He reached into his briefcase and pulled out what he said was a copy of a letter J. Edgar Hoover had sent to an Army general on January 26, 1951. According to Joe, the letter was one of several the FBI had sent to top Army officials, warning them of security lapses at the Fort Monmouth Signal Corps laboratories. Waving the piece of paper in front of him (as he had once waved documents he said listed the names of Communists at work in the State Department), Joe charged that whoever had received the letter "was derelict when these repeated warnings from the FBI were ignored."
Such dramatic gestures had worked for Joe in the past, but not this time. Welch denied any knowledge of the letter, calling it "this purported copy." When asked, Joe maintained that he had not gotten it from anyone at the FBI but had been told that the original could be found in the Army's files. Responding quickly, Army staffers spent hours that evening searching for the letter, but found no trace of it. Meanwhile, Robert Collier, a subcommittee staff member, took McCarthy's copy to the FBI to show to J. Edgar Hoover himself.
The next morning, Collier reported that the FBI had no such letter in its files, either. But it did have a copy of a top-secret, fifteen-page memorandum that was sent by Hoover on the same date and to the same general as Joe's one-and-a-half-page "letter." Collier said the FBI had told him the letter contained a number of paragraphs with the exact same wording as paragraphs in the memorandum. But it was in no way a copy of the much longer document.
Sen. McCarthy displays a range of emotions while he listens to testimony in the Army-McCarthy hearings. The National Archives
Joe responded by bluffing. He claimed that the letter was a copy of the memorandum, with classified security information omitted. Collier immediately contradicted McCarthy. He had raised that possibility in his meeting with J. Edgar Hoover, he said, and the FBI director had ruled it out.
While Joe was trying to think of a reply, Welch chuckled and said, "Mr. Collier, as I understand your testimony, this document that I hold in my hand is a copy of precisely nothing, is that right?" Collier was forced to agree.
The next day, Ray Jenkins, the subcommittee's counsel, called Joe to testify as to how he had obtained the so-called letter. Joe stated that it had been given to him in the spring of 1953 by a young Army Intelligence officer. The officer was disturbed, he said, because nothing was being done about clear indications of Communist infiltration in the top-secret radar laboratories at Fort Monmouth.
Ray Jenkins accepted Joe's explanation, but Joseph Welch had serious reservations about it. In his cross-examination, he tried to get McCarthy to reveal the name of his informant, but Joe refused. Then Welch took another tack, asking Joe to whom he had shown the document after receiving it. McCarthy evaded the counsel's questions by saying "I don't remember," or "I don't recall," or "I wouldn't know." But Welch was relentless; as soon as McCarthy ducked one question, the Army's counsel lobbed another at him. Their exchange was eerily similar to the many occasions when Joe had badgered a witness unmercifully during one of his investigations. Only this time he was on the receiving end.
As the hearings continued, Joe maintained a seemingly impossible schedule. Almost every morning at seven-thirty or eight, he and Jean met with Cohn and Carr over breakfast at their home to plot their strategy for the day. The quartet left the McCarthy house promptly at nine to walk the few blocks to the Senate Office Building, where the hearings were held. Both Joe and Roy Cohn had received anonymous threats, so they were surrounded by bodyguards supplied by the Washington police department.
When the hearing broke for lunch, the group usually went to the dining room at a nearby hotel. Joe's suit jacket would be soaked with perspiration by then, so he'd hang it over his chair back to dry while he gulped down his lunch and a few drinks.
The hearing generally ended for the day around four-thirty. Joe, his aides, and Jean would then retire to his Senate office, where they went over the day's proceedings and made plans until seven or seven-thirty. Dinner followed, sometimes at Joe's home but more often in a favorite restaurant. During the meal, Joe would down one straight shot of vodka after another. After dinner, they all went back to Joe's office to work some more. Jean, Roy Cohn, and Carr usually left for home before eleven. But Joe would stay on, hunting for documents he intended to refer to, or reading the transcripts of earlier hearings. And all the while he was drinking.
Occasionally Mark Catlin, an old friend from Wisconsin who was now a Washington lobbyist, would stay with Joe during one of his all-night working binges. Later, Catlin recalled how Joe would often talk about whom he was going to "get" during the next day's hearing. Or he would ramble on in a deadly serious tone about all the Communists who still were at work in the government, eating away at the nation's strength and security.
Catlin had known Joe four years earlier, when he had just embarked on his anti-Communist crusade. At that time, Catlin thought the pursuit of Communists was a sort of game for Joe—a game he enjoyed playing because it brought him publicity and fame. But now Catlin sensed that Joe had come to believe completely in his struggle against Communism. He seemed like a man with a mission, a man obsessed.
Every so often as the night wore on, Joe would doze off at his desk for a few minutes. But then he would wake up abruptly, reach for his glass, and go back to work. When Catlin finally left the senator's office around six A.M., Joe would still be there, napping and waking up and then napping again. As far as Catlin could tell, that was the only sleep Joe got before going home for breakfast and the next day's strategy session.
By May 7, the hearings had been going on for twelve days, with no end in sight. Republican Party leaders were anxious to halt the proceedings before they did any more harm to the party's image. They sought the help of Wisconsin party leader Tom Coleman, who had aided Joe in the early stages of his political career. Coleman agreed to approach a friend of Roy Cohn's with a proposal: If Cohn would resign from his position with the subcommittee, John Adams would at the same time resign from his position with the Army. They'd each say they were making a personal sacrifice in order to bring the hearings to a close, save the taxpayers further expense, and serve the best interests of the nation.
Joe reluctantly agreed to the proposal. He hated the thought of losing Cohn but realized it was probably the only way to get the Army off his back so he could resume his anti-Communist investigations. With Joe's assent, Cohn began writing his letter of resignation. But the Army refused to go along with the plan. Secretary Stevens and other top Army brass did not want the hearings to be cut short before all the evidence they had gathered against Joe and Roy Cohn had been presented in a public forum.
G. David Schine (left) and Roy Cohn (right) listen intently while Sen. McCarthy (center) asks a question in the Army-McCarthy hearings. Wisconsin Historical Society
Angry and frustrated, Senator Everett Dirksen appealed to the administration to put pressure on the Pentagon to get the Army to change its mind. But the White House refused to intervene. This made it unmistakably clear to Dirksen—and to McCarthy—that the president remained firmly behind the Army in the dispute. And so the hearings continued as originally planned, with one minor change. Each day's proceedings were extended by an hour and a half in the hope that the hearings would move along at a faster pace.
25. "Have You No Sense of Decency, Sir?"
ARMY LEGAL ADVISOR John Adams took the stand on May 12. His testimony, unlike Secretary Stevens's, was concise and to the point. In two days of examination and cross-examination, he offered a vivid account of Roy Cohn'
s repeated attempts to get special treatment for David Schine. Joe indicated his contempt for Adams by reading newspapers during much of the testimony.
The rest of the audience paid close attention to Adams when he described situations like a luncheon at which Cohn had behaved strangely: "Mr. Cohn became extremely agitated, became extremely abusive. He cursed me and then Senator McCarthy. The abuse went in waves. He would be very abusive and then it would kind of abate and things would be friendly for a few moments. Everybody would eat a little more, and then it would start again. It just kept on."
Adams added that, besides being abusive, Cohn's language was frequently obscene. "The thing that Cohn was angry about, the thing that he was so violent about, was the fact that, one, the Army was not agreeing to an assignment for Schine and, two, that Senator McCarthy was not supporting his staff in an effort to get Schine assigned [to duty] in New York."
The media made the most of Adams's lively testimony, and it was obvious to many observers that Adams's remarks were doing serious damage to McCarthy's case. To counteract the negative impact, Sen. Dirksen and Sen. Mundt went on the attack when it came their turn to cross-examine Adams. Dirksen testified that Adams had come to see him in January and had requested that the subcommittee stop issuing subpoenas to Army personnel. Adams had also brought up the problems the Army was having with Roy Cohn. Later, Sen. Mundt told much the same story. Neither senator claimed that Adams had been trying to blackmail them, but that clearly was the implication.
The Rise and Fall of Senator Joe McCarthy Page 23
