Irving Wallace - The Man

“And then, Miss Watson?”

“He took the papers, threw them aside, and grabbed hold of me. He tried to kiss me. I refused, and that enraged him. He wouldn’t let go of me, and I tried to get free. He tore my dress, and then he became brutal, and I slapped him, and he pushed me down on the bed. Then he was after me again, and his hands, he bruised and scratched me-you have the photographs the doctor took that night-and finally I said I’d scream if he wouldn’t let go, and pulled away and stumbled to the door, unlocked it, and escaped. I never went back to the White House again.”

“What happened immediately afterward, Miss Watson?”

“I-I told some people high up in government-I was afraid to tell my father-I didn’t want him to do something terrible-and my friends then acted, decided to take action, against the President, and they told my father, and he agreed, and that was all.”

“You’ve been under the strict care of your family physician ever since?”

“I was in a state of shock. I have been confined to our house. The doctor comes by daily.”

“Miss Watson, you have performed a service to your country. Thank you for your soul-rending testimony.”

Zeke Miller bowed his head, and then turned away. Keeping his head low, shaking it sorrowfully, he returned to his table.

There was a buzzing through the Senate Chamber, much twisting, turning, consultation, as Sally Watson rose from her chair to leave.

Chief Justice Johnstone’s stentorian voice halted her. “The witness will remain in her place for the cross-examination by the President’s managers.”

Surprised, Sally Watson sat down.

The Chief Justice called out, “The senators will please be attentive. Gentlemen of counsel for the President, if you desire to cross-examine, you will proceed.”

Nat Abrahams had taken up a manila folder of documents and come out of his seat. “Mr. Chief Justice, by your leave, the defense does have a number of inquiries to make of the witness.”

Abrahams confronted Sally Watson. He had in his mind Dilman’s story of the night in question. He had, in his folder, the thorough research accomplished by Priest and Hart. Abrahams knew that he would not be able to shake her from her story, for as one psychiatrist had pointed out to him, by now she believed it to be true, as was often the case with latent paranoid schizophrenics. If he attacked her ego, her id would make the response. His task was formidable. If he overplayed, and she became hysterical, she might gain sympathy for herself while building more resentment toward President Dilman. Abrahams knew that he would have to feel his way, push where there was give, withdraw where there was resistance, and stop hastily if she got out of hand.

“Miss Watson,” he said, his tone chatty rather than severe, “like the honorable manager who preceded me, I appreciate what an ordeal this appearance must be for a young lady such as yourself. I will do my part in making it as endurable, and brief, as possible.”

Sally Watson eyed Abrahams suspiciously. “Thank you.”

“Be tolerant of me if I cover some of the same ground covered by the learned House manager. Now let me see, according to my notes, you stated that you volunteered, applied, to the President for the position of his social secretary, because-what was it now? Oh, yes-because you wished to serve your country. Is that correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Very laudable. When you applied in person-I believe you saw President Dilman in the Oval Office of the White House-did he hire you immediately? Or do I understand correctly that he had some doubts about your qualifications until you said that there was a personage of importance in the government who would give you the strongest of recommendations? Is that true?”

“Yes-yes, it is.”

“Who was the person in government who recommended you?”

“The Secretary of State.”

“Secretary of State Arthur Eaton? I see. He recommended you for the position? He knew you personally and said you would be perfect for it?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“As a result of Secretary Eaton’s favorable recommendation, you were hired as White House social secretary?”

“Well, there were also my other qualifications.”

“Of course, Miss Watson, your other qualifications. Let me see.” Abrahams opened his folder and examined the photocopies of documents already entered as exhibits in the trial. “Miss Watson, you spoke of attending Radcliffe. The record shows you attended the college for ten months, and then you were dropped, no cause for the school’s action being given. Can you enlighten us?”

“I tested very well, or I wouldn’t have been there, but my grades slipped. I was impatient with school. The girls were too immature. My mind was on a career. I wanted to go out and have a career. So I moved to New York.”

“Yes, I see. You had one job there. With the advertising agency, which is headed by Senator Hoyt Watson’s former law partner. You received a sizable salary for a young lady who had no advertising experience. Yes, an excellent job, I must say. I am surprised it lasted only six months. Why was that, Miss Watson?”

“There was too much drinking and fooling around. I couldn’t stand it. Besides, I wanted to take voice lessons. I was told I could sing unusually well, and that I might have a future in that field.”

“Yes, there is some evidence you possessed a devotion to popular music. I see here that you were married to a young man connected with a Greenwich Village orchestra. Further documentation makes it clear that the marriage was annulled two weeks later. The young man with whom you eloped, evidently he was deported to his native Puerto Rico.”

“When I learned about his bad habits-he was a dope addict-I sought the annulment and disclosed his vice to-to certain people. I guess that was why he was deported. I think it is a good thing, too.”

“I have no doubt. Such vigilance is admirable… Now, Miss Watson, we have in our possession evidence that, in the next several years, you were attended by three different psychoanalysts, and for one short period you were confined to a mental institution. In itself, nothing wrong. Such treatment is not uncommon. In fact, it shows good sense to take corrective measures when you are emotionally ill. Naturally, and properly, your psychoanalysts and the mental institution would not open their confidential files on your illness to us. We have only the information that you were placed in an institution because you made an attempt upon your own life, made an attempt to commit suicide by self-inflicted wounds that-”

Zeke Miller’s voice shrieked, “Objection, Mr. Chief Justice! The testimony the manager is trying to elicit is irrelevant and immaterial to the case on trial, and an obvious effort to damage the character of the witness.”

Abrahams appealed to the Chief Justice. “Your Honor, I believe this line of questioning is highly relevant. I am not interested in damaging the character of the witness, beyond bringing to light the factual evidence of her consistent instability, and therefore her lack of capacity for the position for which the President had hired her.”

“The President did hire her!” Miller shouted.

“Because he was misled as to her qualifications by Secretary of State Eaton, and for reasons that have a direct bearing on this case,” said Abrahams.

“Objection sustained,” announced the Chief Justice. “Mr. Manager Abrahams, henceforth confine yourself strictly to questions that will bring out testimony concerned with the charges in Article III.”

Abashed, Abrahams closed his folder, walked over and handed it to Tuttle, then returned to Sally Watson.

“Miss Watson, since Arthur Eaton was partly instrumental in helping you become the President’s social secretary, I am curious to know how long and how well you have known him.”