Exits & Entrances

Newbold Morris, an irrepressible reformer from the ranks of Manhattan's silk-stocking Republicans, tripped down to Washington last February, all aglow. On the invitation of the Administration, he was going to investigate corruption in the Administration. Last week, as Morris and his bumptious crusade came to a crashing end, it could not be said that the outcome was really a surprise to those who knew Newbold Morris and the chiefs of the Administration. But it was a spectacle, part political farce and part national humiliation, that Washington would remember. Morris launched his inquiry in his own inimitable style. He made snide remarks in public against such pets of Harry Truman as Major General Harry Vaughan. He talked loftily of starting his house-cleaning in the Department of Justice, of which he was technically a member. At the congressional hearings, he wrathfully resented personal questions seeking to clarify the part he had played and the cut he had taken in some gaudily profitable surplus tanker deals (TIME, March 24); he railed against "diseased minds" among the Senators instead of giving plain answers. Then, in his investigator's role, he turned right around and prepared to ask others a lot of questions.

A formidable document, the Morris questionnaire would have had selected federal officeholders list their net worth, plus the net worth of each member of their immediate families during the past five years or during the period of their federal employment, if less than five years. Morris also wanted to know all about such items as cash in banks and elsewhere, loans receivable, stocks & bonds, real estate, life-insurance equities, household and other assets; he even wanted to know how many fur coats there were in the family.

Tension at the Airport. Attorney General Howard McGrath at first seemed to go along, though reluctantly, with the idea of the questionnaire. But he refused to give Morris unrestricted access to departmental files or tax return data.

From then on, McGrath's opposition to Morris hardened quickly. Reportedly, he spoke up against the questionnaire at a Cabinet meeting; he was supported by other officials, and the President took the matter under advisement. Then last week McGrath told a House subcommittee that he had not yet decided whether to answer the questionnaire addressed to him. Asked if he would appoint Morris now if he had the chance again, he bluntly replied: "I would not."

A few days later, at the capital's airport waiting for the arrival of Queen Juliana, McGrath was seen in tense debate with Harry Truman and Presidential Aide Joseph Short. Snatches of talk were overheard:

Truman (his face a mask): "I'm not concerned about that part of it."

McGrath (wringing his hands): "It is the basic issue involved . . ."

Short (banging a fist against a palm): "The President does not want to be involved ..."

New York Timesman Arthur Krock subsequently reported that in this talk the Attorney General had conducted a running argument with the President. Its gist: since Truman and McGrath were agreed on holding up the Morris questionnaire and the need to dismiss Morris, it ought to be recorded in announcements by both the White House and the Justice Department. The President, said Krock, moved away from the argument. Later, McGrath and Short kicked it around some more; the presidential aide thought that both Morris and McGrath ought to go. The Attorney General protested that this would make him a "goat."

"Your Services Shall Cease." In the morning, McGrath sent a curt letter to Morris. "Please be informed . . . your services . . . shall cease at the close of business today." Morris, cocky as ever, replied, measuring the words: "I've--never--been--fired--before . . . I'm not mad at anybody ... I don't care very much, as long as my wife loves me." Later, during a soliloquy for the benefit of newsmen, while he fed peanuts to the pigeons in Lafayette Square, he added: "I've been fired, and now all the influence peddlers can come back again . . . Yes, sir, everything was going to be cozy, cordial and comfortable until they found out I meant business."

That afternoon the President's press conference was crowded. Truman entered in a grinning, joshing mood, but by the time he was ready for his big announcement, his voice was toneless. The Attorney General, he said, had resigned. And James P. McGranery, U.S. District Judge for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania, would take his place.

The President refused to say whether he thought Morris should have been fired; fee insisted that he had not yet seen the controversial questionnaire. When one reporter remarked, "We understood that Mr. Morris was your man," Truman retorted that Morris wasn't his man--he never was.

An hour or so later, at the Justice Department Building, Howard McGrath walked out of his office, his Homburg pulled forward, his double-breasted grey flannel rumpled, a glazed look in his eyes. His voice quavered as he talked to the waiting press; no tears rolled down his cheeks, but his eyes brimmed. Why was he fired? "I guess my usefulness came to an end." What advice did he have for his successor? "A fine man ... I have suggested that he ought to supply himself with an asbestos suit."

"What Right Have I?" A few hours later, a train arrived from Philadelphia bearing the new Attorney General-designate, James Patrick McGranery,*minus an asbestos suit. Fires were immediately lighted under him. Some Congressmen said they would try to hold up his confirmation as Attorney General until they had questioned him thoroughly in his role in the Amerasia case (see box). From another quarter came an even sharper attack ; Philadelphia District Attorney Richardson Dilworth, a fellow Philadelphia Democrat, predicted: "The regime of McGranery will be marked by incompetence, bias, favoritism and ward politics at its worst." McGranery shrugged off the assault: "If the Senate feels I am crooked, or it has no confidence in my abilities, it won't confirm me."

After a talk with Harry Truman, McGranery reported that he had been charged with a tall task: "To restore the confidence of the people in the integrity of the administration of justice." He added 1) that he would depend on the FBI to find out where corruption existed, 2) that he would not "waste any money" continuing the kind of inquiry Newbold Morris had pressed, and 3) that he had no plans to look into the conduct of Howard McGrath. "What right," he asked, "would I have to do that?"

*Until he is confirmed, McGranery will not be Attorney General. Meanwhile, the powers of the office are in the hands of Solicitor General Philip B. Perlman.

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