Smoke

Like a slow ribbon of cigar smoke in a smoky room, a story curled around the House of Representatives last week. It got in Congressmen's eyes, made them cough and blink. The story was as hard to take as a Wheeling stogie, and like a stogie, it carried a kick.

Two weeks ago, Congressman Frank Hook of Michigan had risen in the House to protest the continuation of the Dies Committee. As evidence that the Dies Committee was unworthy of further existence, he produced a batch of letters which he entered in the Congressional Record. The letters were supposedly written by William Dudley Pelley, whereabouts now unknown, the leader of a Fascist organization, The Silvershirt Legion of America. The letters showed, said Hook, a friendship between Pelley and Chairman Martin Dies which insured the Silvershirts, the Christian Front and other Fascist groups against investigation by the Committee. David Mayne, Pelley's Washington representative, was allegedly the recipient of this correspondence.

Chairman Dies lay ill in Texas, but his Committee's answer was to subpoena Mayne. Shortly it announced that the letters were forgeries, that Mayne had admitted writing them himself. How did they come into the hands of Congressman Hook? Few days later up popped three answerers, ready & willing to explain: wealthy Gardner Jackson, well known in Washington as an incorrigible crusader for many a liberal cause, Harold Weisberg, his collaborator on a forthcoming book about the Dies Committee, and a newspaperman named John Henshaw. Henshaw had told Weisberg about the Mayne letters, Weisberg had told Jackson. Jackson, indignantly believing they were the goods, put up the $105 Mayne wanted for them. Thereupon Jackson had invited a number of Congressmen, including Hook, to his home in Chevy Chase, showed them the documents with a triumphant smile. Hook looked, saw his duty clear, declared he would do it.

But this was only the profile of the plot. Washington buzzed with blacker hints. The New York Sun said right out loud that the Dies Committee's counsel, ex-G-Man Rhea Whitley, knew about the letters in December, even knew about the plan to air them on the floor of the House. Mayne himself had told him, charged the Sun, and Mayne had also reported to the Dies Committee his negotiations with Jackson. Why had not Mr. Whitley spoken up? Said Congressman Marcantonio of New York: "If this statement is true, then the counsel of this committee engaged in this conspiracy just as much as Mr. Mayne."

At week's end, Mr. Whitley's resignation lay in the office of the Dies Committee. Mr. Whitley himself was in Florida. Congressman Hook, not quite sure whether he was a hero or a fall guy, looked fiercely in all directions. Congress cleared its throat and felt in its pockets for a fresh cigar.

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