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  If Solly had his way, he might have exterminated this scumbag, but only if he was told to do so. His first approach would have been to attempt to correct Hy’s thinking.

  Hershie concluded his testimony on Monday afternoon.

  “Your Honor, Hy speaking, shall we break for your synagogue attendance?”

  Hy turned to the jury. “His Honor is going to pray now in the ancient way of his people for generations,” Hy announced.

  “Beautifully put,” said Henky Rubin. “I couldn’t have said it better myself, Hy. This is what America is all about.”

  The sweat poured down Solly. Pools of it flooded his eyes and mouth.

  Marv Duboff asked Solly if he had told Hershie the Soviet Union had a better form of government. Solly held up a finger as he talked about the first land of socialism, just as he had done when lecturing many other politically backward elements. “You see,” said Solly, “I believed the Soviet Union was bearing the brunt of the war against Nazism. As every intelligent person of a progressive nature was prone to incline, I discussed the war with Hershie. And our discussion deepened. I explained how the Soviet Union had improved the lot of the underdog, ended illiteracy and most death as we know it. It had brought about reconstruction and given the workers free medical care, health care, and education.”

  Solly beamed, his finger up, bringing true understanding to Marv Duboff, Hy Briské, Judge Goldman, and the jury. “I felt that it was interesting that the Soviet Union was carrying the heaviest load, and I felt it was a little unfair. My people were being gassed in ovens, and here was this one country taking action against Hitler with insufficient help from the richest country in the world.”

  “Would you like to overthrow the American capitalist system?” said Duboff.

  “I heartily approve of our system of government, its Constitution and Bill of Rights. Oh no, Mr. Duboff, I just believe in live and let live and allowing The People to think for themselves and make up their own mind. I believe in The People. I know they will reach the correct conclusion if their minds are not clouded with irrelevant information.”

  “Mr. Rubell, were you a member of the Young Communist League?”

  “Well, gee, I guess I refuse to answer that question on the grounds it might tend to incriminate me.”

  “How about the Steinmetz Club at City College?”

  “I’d like to assert my constitutional privilege against self-incrimination,” Solly said.

  Judge Goldman addressed the jury: “You are to draw no inference whatsoever from the witness’s refusal to answer on his assertion of privilege.”

  “Huh! Course not!” Hy shouted.

  “Now, Mr. Rubell, let’s get back to your discussing with Hershie the Russian advances,” said Duboff.

  “Well, I meant their advances in the winter campaign against the Nazis.”

  “Didn’t you also talk about their economic and social advances, all the wonderful things they were doing for their people?”

  “Certainly. But I would also want to stress here that I felt deeply that the Russians contributed the heaviest share to eliminating Hitler.”

  “And you felt that the Russians should be getting more help than the Allies were giving to them?”

  “I felt it was vital that Russia get everything it needed to enable it to defeat the Nazi butchers.”

  “What was your opinion of Great Britain sharing in our secrets in 1944 and 1945? Didn’t you feel that Russia should share as well?”

  “I felt, Mr. Duboff, that we had an enemy we were all facing, and that we should help each other as much as possible to defeat that enemy.”

  “You wanted us all to fight just a little bit harder?”

  “It occurred to me that if we had a common foe we should get together commonly.”

  On the lunch break, Judge Goldman sat at his table at Lindy’s reading Howard Mayfield’s column on page 5 of the Echo.

  Did ju know Edna St. Vincent Millay, the love-poem writer, bought new sets of store teeth along Broadway every year? . . . America’s Swedeheart, Greta Garbo, is pouting … Whittaker Chambers, the Marx of Time, is back on the payroll … Sudden thawts: Joan of Arc was too sexy to wear dresses . . . A liberal is a fellow who has both feet firmly planted in the air. …

  Howard’s column mentioned the Rubells: “Out of the Frying Pan into the Fire.” There were orchids for the judge for keeping an open mind and for keeping the trial sailing along at a Hy Briské pace. Kudos to Hy and Duboff for dancing to a different drummer. And a kick in the pants to Commie-lovers, pinko pimps, and pansies.

  The judge did not like his picture in the column. He picked up the phone on the table and called his secretary. “Tell Howard if he wants a fresh photo of me, he may have one.” He hung up and called Hy. “I’m in a tough spot,” the judge said. “All this publicity, this spotlight. It should be just me, my God, and I. You know? Instead I’m the center of the universe. The picture of me in Howard’s column is a poor reflection. I need time to ponder away from the glare of publicity. I want peace, calm, breezes, water, goyish refinement, and good food. I’m thinking of the Concord for the weekend. Hy, I’m thinking sentences. What do you think?”

  Solly tried to eat his egg sandwich on white bread. The same tune always came back to him:

  Fly higher and higher

  Our emblem’s the Soviet Star

  And every propeller is roaring

  Red Front!

  Defending the USSR!

  It was “The Song of the Red Air Fleet.” For a moment he relaxed, waving his sandwich in the air. There was a smile on his face; his eyes were closed. It was the same daydream: Solly at the window, suddenly barless, sighting the star, and then the roar of the propeller, hovering overhead, Solly stepping through the window helped aloft by outstretched Soviet arms, and away he went.

  Solly opened his eyes.

  Duboff was refreshed for the afternoon session after a hot pastrami at Toots Shor’s.

  “Did you ever make any contributions to the Civil Rights Congress?”

  “Yes, I believe I did,” Solly answered.

  “That is known to be an organization deemed subversive by the attorney general.” Duboff paused significantly.

  Solly said, “I don’t know.”

  “Was that all you did?” Duboff asked, bowing deeply.

  “I don’t think I know what you mean, Mr. Duboff,” said Solly.

  “Don’t be coy with us, Mr. Rubell. Did you ever give money to the Communist newspaper, the Freiheit?”

  “I might have.”

  “Did you express yourself in other ways, soliciting, speaking?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Did you ever collect money in your neighborhood for the Civil Rights Congress or the Freiheit?”

  “I did give money; I didn’t collect it.”

  “No? Let the thimble be brought forth.”

  Hy Briské rushed down the aisle with quick little steps, holding a tray, his hand under it, gurgling. He extended the tray toward Solly. A tiny object perched on it. Holding his nose away from it and sniffing, Hy held up a thimble between his thumb and index finger.

  “What is this?” Duboff shouted at Solly.

  “Can you see it, My Honor?” Hy said to the judge. “It’s really awful. Show it to His Honor, Mr. Duboff.”

  “Wait a minute,” said Duboff. “What is this thing, Mr. Rubell?”

  Solly’s voice trembled. “A thimble. Just a thimble.”

  “It was in your home when the agents arrested you. What does it say on it?”

  “Morgen Freiheit” said Solly.

  “Mr. Rubell, there were hundreds in your home.”

  “They were given to new subscribers to the progressive newspaper, the Freiheit,” Solly said. “It was all legal.”

  “The Freiheit is known to be a newspaper deemed subversive by the attorney general,” Duboff said. “Let the thimble be shown to the jury.” Duboff handed the tray to the jury foreman.

  “Now
bring us the picture of the angry-looking Negro,” said Duboff. Hy handed it to Duboff.

  “This picture has the following words on the back: ‘Paul Robeson as Othello. Thank you for your contribution to the Civil Rights Congress. Stop All Lynchings.’

  “Now, Mr. Rubell, you did a little bit more than just contribute.”

  Solly said, “I just helped.”

  “Is it not a fact that the Civil Rights Congress is a Communist organization exclusively?” asked Duboff.

  “1 object to the form of the question,” said Henky Rubin.

  “The form is all right,” said Judge Goldman.

  “I don’t believe it is a Communist group,” said Solly.

  “When did you join it?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  “Who invited you to join it?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  “How did you first learn of it?”

  “Somebody asked me to join.”

  “Which somebody?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  “Perhaps that someone was a member of the Communist Party?”

  “I don’t know, no.”

  “Where were you solicited?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  “Mr. Rubell, were you a member of the Communist Party?”

  “I refuse to answer on the grounds that it might incriminate me.”

  “Were you also a member of the International Workers Order?”

  “I just have an insurance policy with it,” said Solly.

  “Is it a public insurance company?”

  “Yes, Mr. Duboff.”

  “Is it not a Communist organization?”

  “I don’t believe so.”

  “Is it not a fact that its members are exclusively members of the Communist Party?”

  “I don’t know whether that is a fact.”

  “How did you come to join it?”

  “I don’t recall.”

  “When did you become a member?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  “Who invited you to join it?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  “Mr. Rubell, do you remember that we are in the midst of a war in Korea against the Communists?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “How many years have you been a member of the International Workers Order?”

  “I can’t remember.”

  “What kind of insurance do you have?”

  “A two-thousand-dollar policy for life insurance.”

  “Where is the policy?”

  “My policy?”

  “Yes, your policy.”

  “Well, it was in my home.”

  “Where do you send premiums?”

  “To the secretary.”

  “Where was he?”

  “I sent it to his house.”

  “Where?”

  “Somewhere in New York City. I can’t recall.”

  “You’re telling us you send the money to the secretary at his house? Doesn’t the International Workers Order have an office, a room, a cell, something?”

  “Yes. I’m sure it does.”

  “But where?”

  “I don’t know, Mr. Duboff.”

  “Your policy is at your house?”

  “Yes, Mr. Duboff.”

  “Would you bring it with you when you come here tomorrow?”

  “But—”

  “Get the policy! Bring it here!”

  “But I have no home,” said Solly. “My home is gone. My things are somewhere else.”

  “No speech,” said Duboff. “Just the policy.”

  “I don’t have it,” said Solly.

  “He doesn’t have it,” said Henky. “I will try to get it. The Rubells no longer have an apartment. The lease was canceled. Their furniture was disposed of.”

  “We don’t want the furniture,” said Duboff. “The policy will be fine.”

  The trial was adjourned for the day. Solly collapsed on his bed.

  In his cell, he read the National Guardian. There was a Soviet cartoon illustrating the Soviet Union’s relationship to the People’s Democracies. Two sparrows wanted to live by themselves. But they ran into a lot of trouble with cats, dogs, and children. Finally, they realized they had to live with the other birds for their own protection. So it was that smaller nations needed to join the Soviet Union so that they could be protected.

  Solly clipped the cartoon for Dolly. He captioned it “Educational Reading.”

  Duboff resumed his cross-examination of Solly the next afternoon.

  “How long have you known Sophie Rich?”

  “I’m not sure exactly.”

  “How often have you seen her since you first met her?”

  “I don’t remember. She had been Joe Klein’s sweetheart, and he would come to the house with her. I think I also saw her at musicales.”

  “When did Joe Klein leave the country?”

  “I’m not sure, sir, but around 1948.”

  “When was the last time you saw Sophie?”

  “It’s hard to say.”

  “A couple of weeks before you were arrested?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “A week before your arrest?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  “What did you chat with Sophie Rich about the last time you saw her?”

  “The price of eggs, that sort of thing. I says, How are you, Soph?”

  “Did you talk with her about anything else?”

  “Nothing else in particular.”

  “Did you give her some money?”

  “Can’t say that I did, no sir.”

  “Did you send her on a trip to Pittsburgh?”

  “No, not at all, sir.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Didn’t you give her three thousand dollars to bring to someone in Pittsburgh?”

  “Totally untrue.”

  “You’re certain?”

  “I am certain.”

  “Where did you see Joe Klein?”

  “At his apartment in Greenwich Village.”

  “What was the address?”

  “I can’t remember the exact street. It began with a p. Either-”

  “Wasn’t it 29 Perry Street?”

  “Right, that’s it, Perry Street.”

  “Was that very hard to remember?”

  “I just told you it was.”

  “How often did you go to that apartment?”

  “A number of times.”

  “How frequently?”

  “Not very frequently.”

  “Were you there with Maury Ballinzweig?”

  “No, Mr. Duboff.”

  “Were you there with Jed Levine?”

  “No, not at all.”

  “When did you last see Klein?”

  “In 1948.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “In Brooklyn, I believe.”

  “You don’t know exactly where he is?”

  “No, I wouldn’t know for sure.”

  “Don’t you know that he is in Russia?”

  Henky jumped up. “I object to that upon the ground that it is incompetent, irrelevant, immaterial, and highly inflammatory—”

  “Oh, sure it is!” said Hy.

  “I move for a mistrial,” Henky said.

  “Denied,” Judge Goldman said.

  “Mr. Rubell, you were interviewed in this building the day after Hershie was arrested, weren’t you?”

  “Correct.”

  “You were interviewed by Mr. Steve Tabackin of the F.B.I.”

  “Yes I was, sir.”

  “And you were arrested a month later?”

  “That is right.”

  “Did you see Mr. Tabackin in the following weeks near your shop or home?”

  “I noticed Mr. Tabackin hanging around my shop. One day I saw him peering through the open window. His nose was in my shop. He winked at me.”

  “Did you think you were under surveilla
nce?”

  “I don’t have a thought on that.”

  “Didn’t you find it unusual that an F.B.I. agent was peering through the window of your shop?”

  “I thought that was his business, Mr. Duboff.”

  “And what were your thoughts?”

  “That he might be looking through the window in order to find something.”

  “What might he be hoping to find?”

  “I really don’t know.”

  “Weren’t you upset by his looking through your window or standing outside your shop?”

  “No, that was his business, Mr. Duboff. I didn’t manifest anxiety because I had no guilt.”

  “Why did you think he was standing there?”

  “It didn’t occur to me to think about it. That was his concern.”

  “It made absolutely no impression on you?”

  “It didn’t concern me.”

  “But it made no impression?”

  “I thought he was seeking something.”

  “But it had nothing to do with you?”

  “Perhaps yes, perhaps no, but I was not concerned.”

  “But did you think Mr. Tabackin’s nose, perched as it was in your window, or his standing outside your shop, had any connection to you?”

  “Perhaps yes, perhaps no. It didn’t occur to me to think about why he was doing it.”

  “You didn’t ask Mr. Tabackin why he was sticking his nose through your window?”

  “I wasn’t going to order the F.B.I. around, Mr. Duboff.”

  “You knew that your brother-in-law had just been arrested?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “Did you discuss with your wife the fact that an F.B.I. agent was hanging around your shop?”

  “Nope, never did.”

  “You didn’t mention it to her at all?”

  “Can’t say that I did.”

  “Even if you were innocent, Mr. Rubell, wouldn’t you have guilt-free anxiety about an F.B.I. agent watching you at a time when your brother-in-law had already been arrested?”

  “It couldn’t have anything to do with me, so I wasn’t concerned.”

  “But what if he was mistaken and thought it had something to do with you?”

  “I didn’t relate to it on a personal level.”

  Dolly followed Solly on the stand. She was no more a social bug there than anywhere else.

  She cocked her head and held it high because of the pain in her back and her migraine headache. But it made her look prissy—stiff and haughty. And she was very pale.