The Big Nowhere

Mal said, “We know, and it’s their past activities that we’re interested in.”

“And they are the only people that you want to know about?”

Mal lied, thinking of Le

“And what are these repercussions you speak of?”

Mal drummed the table. “Open court badgering. Your picture in the—”

Dudley interrupted, “Mr. Eisler, if you do not cooperate, I will inform Howard Hughes that you are authoring RKO films currently being credited to another man. That man, your conduit to gainful employment as a writer, will be terminated. I will also inform the INS that you refused to cooperate with a sanctioned municipal body investigating treason, and urge that their Investigations Bureau delve into your seditious activities with an eye toward your deportation as an enemy alien and the deportation of your wife and children as potential enemy aliens. You are a German and your wife is Japanese, and since those two nations were responsible for our recent world conflict, I would think that the INS would enjoy seeing the two of you returned to your respective homelands.”

Nathan Eisler had hunched himself up, elbows to knees, clasped hands to chin, head down. Tears rolled off his face. Dudley cracked his knuckles and said, “A simple yes or no answer will suffice.”

Eisler nodded; Dudley said, “Grand.” Mal got out his pen and notepad. “I know the answer, but tell me anyway. Are you now or have you ever been a member of the Communist Party, U.S.A.?”

Eisler bobbed his head; Mal said, “Yes or no answers, this is for the record.”

A weak “Yes.”

“Good. Where was your Party unit or cell located?”

“I—I went to meetings in Beverly Hills, West Los Angeles and Hollywood. We—we met at the homes of different members.”

Mal wrote the information down—verbatim shorthand. “During what years were you a Party member?”

“April ‘36 until Stalin proved him—”

Dudley cut in. “Don’t justify yourself, just answer.”

Eisler pulled a Kleenex from his shirt pocket and wiped his nose. “Until early in ‘40.”

Mal said, “Here are some names. You tell me which of these people were known to you as Communist Party members. Claire De Haven, Reynolds Loftis, Chaz Minear, Morton Ziffkin, Armando Lopez, Samuel Benavides and Juan Duarte.”

Eisler said, “All of them.” Mal heard the kids tromping through the living room and raised his voice. “You and Chaz Minear wrote the scripts for Dawn of the Righteous, Eastern Front, Storm Over Leningrad and The Heroes of Yakustok. All those films espoused nationalistic Russian sentiment. Were you told by Communist Party higher-ups to insert pro-Russian propaganda in them?”

Eisler said, “That is a naive question”; Dudley slapped the coffee table. “Don’t comment, just answer.”

Eisler moved his chair closer to Mal. “No. No, I was not told that.”

Mal flashed Dudley two fingers of his necktie—he’s mine. “Mr. Eisler, do you deny that those films contain pro-Russian propaganda?”

“No.”

“Did you and Chaz Minear arrive at the decision to disseminate that propaganda yourselves?”

Eisler squirmed in his chair. “Chaz was responsible for the philosophizing, while I held that the story line spoke most eloquently for the points he wanted to make.”

Mal said, “We have copies of those scripts, with the obvious propaganda passages a

No response. Mal said, “Mr. Eisler, would you say that you have a good memory?”

“Yes, I would say that.”

“And did you and Minear work together in the same room on your scripts?”

“Yes.”

“And were there times when he said things along the lines of ‘This is great propaganda’ or ‘This is for the Party’?”

Eisler kept squirming, shifting his arms and legs. “Yes, but he was just being satirical, poking fun. He did not—”

Dudley shouted, “Don’t interpret, just answer!”

Eisler shouted back, “Yes! Yes! Yes! Goddamn you, yes!”

Mal gave Dudley the cut-off sign; he gave Eisler his most soothing voice. “Mr. Eisler, did you keep a journal during the time you worked with Chaz Minear?”

The man was wringing his hands, Kleenex shredding between fingers pumped blue-white. “Yes.”

“Did it contain entries pertaining to your Communist Party activities and your script work with Chaz Minear?”

“Oh God, yes.”

Mal thought of the report from Satterlee’s PIs: Eisler coupling with Claire De Haven circa ‘38—’39. “And entries pertaining to your personal life?”

“Oh, Gott in himm… yes, yes!”

“And do you still have that journal?”

Silence, then, “I don’t know.”

Mal slapped the table. “Yes, you do, and you’ll have to let us see it. Only the germane political entries will be placed in the official transcript.”

Nathan Eisler sobbed quietly. Dudley said, “You will give us that journal, or we will subpoena it and uniformed officers will tear your quaint little abode apart, gravely upsetting your quaint little family, I fear.”

Eisler gave a sharp little yes nod; Dudley eased back in his chair, the legs creaking under his weight. Mal saw a Kleenex box on the windowsill, grabbed it and placed it on Eisler’s lap. Eisler cradled the box; Mal said, “We’ll take the journal with us, and we’ll put Minear aside for now. Here’s a general question. Have you ever heard any of the people we’re interested in advocate the armed overthrow of the United States government?”

Two negative shakes, Eisler with his head back down, his tears drying. Mal said, “Not in the way of a formal pronouncement, but that sentiment stated.”

“Every one of us said it in anger, and it always meant nothing.”

“The grand jury will decide what you meant. Be specific. Who said it, and when.”

Eisler wiped his face. “Claire would say ‘The end justifies the means’ at meetings and Reynolds would say that he was not a violent man, but he would take up a shillelagh if it came to us versus the bosses. The Mexican boys said it a million different times in a million contexts, especially around the time of Sleepy Lagoon. Mort Ziffkin shouted it for the world to hear. He was a courageous man.”

Mal caught up on his shorthand, thinking of UAES and the studios. “What about the UAES? How did it tie in to the Party and the front groups you and the others belonged to?”

“The UAES was founded while I was out of the country. The three Mexican boys had found work as stagehands and recruited members, as did Claire De Haven. Her father had served as counsel to vested movie interests and she said she intended to exploit and… and…”

Mal’s head was buzzing. “And what? Tell me.”

Eisler went back to his finger-clenching; Mal said “Tell me. ‘Exploit’ and what?”

“Seduce! She grew up around movie people and she knew actors and technicians who had been coveting her since she was a girl! She seduced them as founding members and got them to recruit for her! She said it was her penance for not getting subpoenaed by HUAC!”

Big time triple bingo.

Mal willed his voice as controlled as Dudley’s. “Who specifically did she seduce?”

Eisler picked and plucked and tore at the tissue box. “I don’t know, I don’t know, I honestly do not know.”

“A lot of men, a few men, how many?”

“I do not know. I suspect only a few influential actors and technicians who she knew could help her union.”

“Who else helped her recruit? Minear, Loftis?”

“Reynolds was in Europe then, Chaz I don’t know.”

“What was discussed at the first UAES meetings? Was there some kind of charter or overview they worked on?”

The Kleenex box was now a pile of ripped cardboard; Eisler brushed it off his lap. “I have never attended their meetings.”

“We know, but we need to know who besides the initial founders were there and what was discussed.”