The Rookie Cop

Both a halo and a forked tail go with the headline-catching role of chairman of the House Committee on Un-American Activities. Every chairman from Martin Dies on has been a white knight to part of the public, an inquisitorial fiend in the eyes of another part. By last week the new committee chairman, Illinois' Harold Himmel Velde, had managed to dent his halo and seemed firmly hitched to his forked tail. Velde's trouble: too much talk, too little caution, not enough political horse sense.

Last month he got into a wrangle with Agnes Meyer, wife of the board chairman of the Washington Post, over his committee's investigation of Communists in education. Velde came off second best when he charged Mrs. Meyer with authoring a letter quoted in Pravda--only to discover later, on checking, that the letter had been written by a Mrs. Mayer of British Columbia (TIME, March 2). Then, one night last week, Velde took to the air with three Washington reporters on the nationwide Mutual network show, Reporters' Roundup. Midway in the program his foot slipped again:

Reporter Philip Potter of the Baltimore Evening Sun: "I've noticed the last couple of weeks that churchmen seem to be increasingly critical of the congressional investigation in [the education] field. Some see it as a preliminary approach in the church field. Is there any likelihood of this?"

Velde: I can't say at this time . . . I do think that this is very important to get across to the American people. The Soviet Union through the American Communist party is out to destroy all religious freedom in this country. I believe that our religious leaders should be made aware of that . . .

Potter: I notice that you don't preclude getting into that field, then, at some future time.

Velde: Oh, no, it's entirely possible.

Potter: Do you think that there is a field for investigation in that?

Velde: Yes, I do, I definitely do think there is a field. I cannot tell which direction that would take, whether it would be into some of the organizations which are affiliated with the various churches throughout the country or whether it would be individuals. I rather presume it would be individuals.

The next morning's papers headlined Velde's promise of an investigation of churches. The reaction was as unfavorable as anybody (except Velde) would have expected. Velde protested that he had been "misinterpreted," but even his fellow committee members were aghast at what he had actually said. The committee closed its doors and unanimously resolved that no new investigations would be announced or begun without approval of the full committee. Some Republicans in Congress were furious, and wanted to fire Velde from his chairmanship. Such talk ended abruptly when New York's Franklin D. Roosevelt Jr. offered a formal resolution asking the House to censure Velde and kick him out of his job. Junior's resolution (which will doubtless die in the Rules Committee) made Velde a party issue, and Republicans quickly closed ranks beside him. This will not disappoint the Democrats, who like to keep Velde's kind of bumbling Republican in the headlines.

Velde, 42, is a lawyer who worked his way through the University of Illinois law school in mid-Depression, repairing radios on the side to meet expenses. During the war he joined the FBI, was assigned to the important anti-sabotage unit which kept a watch on the Communist cell at the University of California's radiation laboratory in Berkeley, where basic research was under way on atomic fission. After the war, Velde went into Republican politics in Illinois' Tazewell County, was first elected to Congress in 1948. His FBI record helped his campaign.

Velde was assigned to the Un-American Activities Committee as soon as he came to Capitol Hill. He is personally pleasant, tall, broad-shouldered and handsome. He leaves most of the questioning to the committee counsel. Witnesses testify first in executive session, so that they will not be damaged publicly by the simple fact of their appearing. In public hearing, they are treated firmly but politely, and Velde indulges in no McCarthy-type browbeating and histrionics.

Velde may learn--but his two bad slips indicate that he is not one of the FBI's brighter products. A Congressman who thinks he is going to investigate churches needs to pound the beat a while before he gets promoted to the plain-clothes squad.

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