Douglas Kennedy - The Pursuit of Happiness

'"Since when has denouncing innocent people been considered an act of patriotism?" I asked.

'"Communists are not innocents," Ross shouted at me.

'"The one-time Communists I know certainly are."

'"Ah," Agent Sweet said, "then you admit that you do know Communists."

'"Former Communists, like me."

'"Eric," Frankel said, "if you could just provide Agent Sweet with a few of their names..."

'"And destroy their lives in the process?"

'"If they are as innocent as you claim to be, then they have nothing to fear."

'"Unless, of course, they also refuse to name names. That's the game here, isn't it? You scare me into naming names. Then, after I commit an act of moral cowardice and shop a couple of people, you go to them and play the same game. Give us names, and we'll leave you alone. The problem is, after you leave me alone, I have to deal with myself. And I might not like the person with whom I am now left alone."

'"Are you saying you won't name names?" Ross asked.

'"I am saying that, as I do not know any active Communists, giving you a bunch of names would be a pointless exercise."

'"Let us be the judge of that, Mr Smythe," Sweet said.

'"And if I refuse?"

'"You can kiss your job goodbye," Ross said. "Not just at NBC, but at every network, movie studio, advertising agency, or college across the country. You'll be completely unemployable. I'll make certain of that."

'I met his stare. "I'm sure you will," I said.

'Suddenly, Bert Schmidt entered this Socratic dialog. "Eric, hear me out. You're one of the most talented comedy writers in America today. In my book, you're one of NBC's great assets; a major player in our industry, with a great prosperous future ahead of you. Put baldly, we don't want to lose you. I know this is unpleasant stuff - but everyone here is being asked the same questions. So even if you refuse to name names, somebody else will give us those names. And, unlike you, they will still be in a job. What I'm saying here is: don't make things hard for yourself. Tell Agent Sweet what he needs to know, and you can put the whole business behind you. Anyway, no one will ever learn that it is you who gave the names... isn't that right, Agent Sweet?"

'"Absolutely. Your signed affidavit will be marked Confidential and will only be for the eyes of Bureau officers, and certain investigators working for HUAC - the House UnAmerican Activities Committee."

'"So I too will never know who exactly shopped me to the Feds?"

'"No one shopped you, Mr Smythe," Agent Sweet said. "They simply did the proper American thing. Which is all we ask of you now."

'"I have a contract with this network. You can't just fire me on the spot."

'Golden and Frankel both began to leaf through their copies of my contract. Frankel spoke first. "According to clause twenty-one (a) of Terms and Conditions of Employment, you can be dismissed from the National Broadcasting Corporation on the grounds of moral turpitude."

'"Now that is total crap."

'"It would be up to a court of law to decide that," Frankel said. "You'd have to sue us - which, as you well know, would cost you a lot of money. Though I don't want to sound threatening here, the fact is that our pockets are deeper than yours, Eric. And the case would drag on for years - during which time you'd still be out of a job... and, as Mr Ross pointed out, sadly unemployable."

'I couldn't fathom what I was hearing. Kafka comes to Rockefeller Center. I decided I had to stall for time. So I said, "I need to think about this carefully."

'"Of course," Agent Sweet said. "We're happy to give you seventy-two hours to contemplate your decision. Do understand, though - if you refuse to cooperate, not only will NBC have grounds for dismissal, but the Bureau will also be beholden to report you to HUAC. Without question, you will then be subpoenaed to testify in front of the committee. Should you refuse to do so - or should you go to Washington and refuse to answer any of the committee's questions under oath - you will be found in contempt of court, and sentenced to a term of imprisonment'.

'"My, what a pretty picture you paint of my future."

'"This doesn't have to be your future," Agent Sweet said, "as long as you cooperate."

'Then he played his trump card. Opening up his file, Sweet pulled out a picture of Ronnie and held it up. My stomach started doing backflips. I had to hide my hands below the table, because I didn't want anyone to see them shaking.

'"Do you know this man?" Sweet asked me.

'"Yes, I know him." My voice sounded jittery.

'"How do you know him?"

'"He's a friend."

'Sweet leaned forward. "What kind of friend?"

'You should have seen this asshole's judgmental gaze - as if I was Sodom and Gomorrah rolled into one. I looked over at Bert Schmidt for support, but once again, he gave me one of those desperate looks which said, I can't help you here.

'Sweet didn't like my silence. "Please answer the question, Mr Smythe. What kind of friendship do you have with this man:

'All eyes at the table were on me. Ross was smirking. I found it difficult to speak. "We're just friends," I finally said.

'Sweet let out this big sigh. Then he pulled a small file out of my big file, opened it up, and started reading from it:

'"Ronald Garcia. Born, Bronx, New York. Age: thirty-one. Profession: musician. No prior convictions, no criminal record. Current address: Suite 508, Hampshire House, 150 Central Park South, New York, New York. That also happens to be your address, Mr Smythe."

'"Yes, it's my address."

'"So Mr Garcia, in essence, lives with you."

'"As I said before, we are friends. We know each other through the entertainment business. Ronald was between apartments. Money was tight, so I offered him a place to stay for a while."

'"And where does he sleep in your apartment?"

'"On the sofa. It's one of those pull-out-into-a-bed jobs..."

'Sweet studied the file again. "According to two of the Hampshire House maids that we interviewed, your sofa bed has never been used. They both made statements, clearly stating that they had seen Mr Garcia's personal belongings on the table by your bed, his toiletries in your bathroom. What's more, the... uh... condition of the linen on your bed indicated that... uh... two people were definitely sharing the bed, and engaged in..."

'Frankel cut him off. "I think we've all heard enough, Agent Sweet. And I'm certain Mr Smythe gets the point."

'I put my face in my hands. I really felt as if I was about to be sick. They had me in a corner. And the bastards knew it.

A hand touched my shoulder. Then I heard Bert Schmidt's voice.

'"Come on, Eric - let's get a cup of coffee."

'He helped me up from the table. I was in shock. I couldn't bear to look at any of those shits again. But as we walked out, Agent Sweet said, "Seventy-two hours, Mr Smythe. No longer. And I do hope you'll do the right thing."

'Schmidt and I rode down in the elevator to the lobby. He got us a cab outside, and told the driver to take us to the Carnegie Deli on Fifty-Sixth and Seventh.

'"I'm not exactly hungry, Bert," I said.

'"I just want to get away from that fucking building," he said.

'At the Deli, we got ourselves a booth right at the back. After the waitress showed up with our coffee, Schmidt started talking to me in a low, conspiratorial voice.

'"I'm sorry," he said. "You don't know how sorry I am."

'"What did you tell them?"

'"They didn't investigate me."

'"Bullshit. Of course they questioned you. Because I've heard you brag about your days with Odets and Harold Clurman at the old Group Theater... a real hive of political subversion if there ever was one..."

'"Unlike you, I wasn't a member of the goddamn Party..."

'"But you still knew plenty of people who were. And I bet, when pressed, you had to give those fuckers a couple of names, didn't you?"