The First Day

Senator Joseph Raymond McCarthy grinned his acknowledgement to a spattering of applause, shouldered through the crowd and walked into the glare of television's spotlights. Near the end of a long, coffin-shaped table he found his place, marked by a white name card. He studiedly ignored Army Secretary Robert Ten Broeck Stevens, seated only a few feet away, supported in depth by star-studded Army officers. Between McCarthy and Stevens lay an unseen mountain of bitterness rising from the drafting into the Army of G. David Schine. the golden boy who became an unpaid consultant to McCarthy's committee. To judge the charges and countercharges, the Senate Permanent Investigations Subcommittee met last week in the marbled caucus room of the Senate Office Building.

"Take your places, take your places," urged Acting Subcommittee Chairman Karl Mundt, rapping sharply for order with a glass ashtray (Capitol police had removed the brown china ashtrays inscribed "If it's American, it's worth protecting'' which had been placed around the table by an enterprising high-tariff lobbyist). After delivering himself of a windy, 1,800-word speech on the problems and aims of the hearings, Mundt called for the first witness--and at that precise point. Joe McCarthy made his first move. Pulling his microphone close to him he objected strenuously to the fact that the Stevens side had said its charges were "filed by the Department of the Army." Stevens and his associates were acting as individuals, said Joe, his lips scarcely moving, his voice seeming to come out through his necktie, and they could not speak for the Army.

"He Knows Well Who I Am." Chairman Mundt. no lawyer though cast in a judicial role, solved the problem by avoiding an answer. Committee Counsel Ray Jenkins rumbled out the name of the first witness: Major General Miles Reber, former Chief of Army legislative liaison, now U.S. Army commander in Europe's Western area.

McCarthy immediately saw a chance to serve up another curve ball. Seated next to Reber was Assistant Defense Secretary H. Struve Hensel, whom McCarthy views as the hardest hitter in the Army lineup. Joe archly asked that Hensel identify himself. Bulky Struve Hensel arose, replied angrily: ". . . Senator McCarthy knows well who I am, and so does every-- one else here." Joe smirked.

As McCarthy listened intently to Reber's testimony, twin furrows appeared on the Senator's brow. Nervously he took notes, pausing from time to time to give ear to the excited whispers of his committee counsel, Roy Cohn, who is also accused by the Army of seeking.favors for Private Schine. Counsel Jenkins leaned close to the microphone, the corners of his cavernous mouth turned down, his Tennessee drawl booming throughout the room. He worked entirely without notes.

Balding General Reber told of the efforts to wangle a direct commission for Schine, beginning with a call from McCarthy's office last July 8 and continuing with as many as two or three calls a day from Cohn until the end of the month. Although he did not feel he had been high-pressured by Senator McCarthy, the general was of different mind about Roy Cohn. Said he: in his ten years as the Army's legislative liaison man, he could recall "no instance under which I was put under greater pressure."

"I Have a Right to Object." In crossexamination, McCarthy bided his time, feeling his way. Then, with ten minutes to go before the lunchtime recess, he pounced, not on the witness but on Samuel Reber, the general's brother and former Deputy U.S. High Commissioner in Germany. Joe wanted to know if General Reber was aware that his brother "repeatedly had attacked" Cohn and Schine and had them shadowed while they were on their sleuthing expedition through Europe last year. General Reber said he had not known it and, in any event, it would not have affected his testimony.

Counsel Jenkins broke in with objections to McCarthy's line of questioning. The hearing room grew tense; spectators in the rear stood on tiptoe. Could Jenkins, untried in the Washington jungle, accomplish the feat of cutting Joe McCarthy off? Not without a struggle. Joe insisted on his right to show "prejudice" on the part of the witness. Samuel Reber, he said, had made "vicious attacks" on Cohn and Schine. That brought Arkansas' Democratic Senator John McClellan, as spiny and tough as any razorback, into the dispute. Said McClellan: "You are giving testimony. I have a right to object at any time." Said Joe: "Don't object in the middle of my question." McClellan retorted: "I do not want you testifying . . . unless you want to take the witness stand, and I do not mind your saying it under oath." McCarthy, turning on a smile, muttered that Jenkins' original objection was "perhaps well taken"--and proceeded until recess time along a slightly modified line.

The Roaring Lions. At his usual corner table in the Carroll Arms Hotel, during the luncheon recess, McCarthy gulped down a Manhattan, a slice of lamb and coffee. His suit coat was off, his shirt clung to him, soaked through. The going had been hot & heavy, and there was more, much more, to come.

Returning to twist the dirk already thrust into the Reber brothers, McCarthy asked General Reber: "Are you aware of the fact that your brother was allowed to resign when charges that he was a bad security risk were made against him as a result of the investigation of this committee?" Jenkins roared in protest. McClellan roared in protest. McCarthy talked on, stuck to his question. General Reber sat in silence, gripping the edges of the witness table until his knuckles showed white. Finally, McCarthy, having made his point over radio and television, dismissed the entire question as unimportant, and grandly said he would withdraw it.

But West Pointer Reber would not have it so. In a voice thick with emotion, he asked to be allowed to answer the "very serious charge" made against his brother. After another long argument, Reber said simply: ". . . As I understand my brother's case, he retired, as he is entitled to do by law, upon reaching the age of 50 ... I know nothing about any security case involving him." With a sigh of relief, Chairman Mundt dismissed Reber, thanking him for his frank manner--a remark to which McCarthy, who seemed determined to resent any civility, made a formal objection.

An Immense Pride. Under Secretary of State Walter Bedell Smith, summoned to Capitol Hill from Foggy Bottom, made a terse appearance, crunching out his answers as decisively as he stumped out his cigarettes. Roy Cohn, he said, had come to him to ask help about getting a direct commission for Schine, but not with the Central Intelligence Agency, because the CIA "was too juicy a subject for investigation . . ." Ray Jenkins asked if young Cohn had tried to high-pressure Smith into action--a suggestion that must have seemed incongruous to the hardrock old soldier. Snapped Smith: "Not me, sir!" His inquiries about a commission for Schine, he said, met with no more success than had Reber's. Then Bedell Smith snuffed out a last cigarette. McCarthy asked him no questions.

Army Secretary Stevens--whose testimony had been briefly interrupted by Smith's--returned to the witness table. As he read his prepared statement, he nervously licked his lips and forced his smile; his was the bemusement of a gentleman caught in a wharf brawl. Yet he was the man on whom the Army's case largely depended, and it was behind him that the Army's top echelons had rallied.

Said Stevens: "First, it is my responsibility to speak for the Army . . ." There was in his voice an immense pride. McCarthy tried to shatter it, snarling: "When the Secretary says that in effect 'I speak for the Department of the Army,' he is putting the 99.9% of good, loyal men in the Army into the position of trying to oppose the exposure of Communists in the Army." Stevens continued.

The Perversion of Power. During his term as Army Secretary, he said, there was "no record that matches this persistent, tireless effort to obtain special consideration and privileges for this man [Schine]." Some of the charges made by Stevens in support of his statement:

P: Between mid-July, 1953, and March 1, 1954, David Schine was discussed between Army representatives and McCarthy or members of his staff in 65 telephone calls and at about 19 meetings.

P:CJ Roy Cohn, excluded from a secret radar laboratory at Fort Monmouth by an on-the-spot decision of Stevens, was "extremely angry" and was heard to say: "This means war . . . Don't they think I am cleared for classified information? I have access to FBI files when I want them* . . . They did this just to embarrass me. We will really investigate the Army now."

Stevens' conclusion: "The Schine case is only an example of the wrongful seeking of privilege, of the perversion of power. It has been a distraction that has kept many men from the performance of tasks far more important to the welfare of this country than the convenience of a single Army private."

-- After Stevens had testified, Cohn issued a statement denying that he had access to FBI files.

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