Show Business Is Murder Read Free Page B

into it until they softened into an orange-colored mass.
    Now Birch, her mouth nicely puckered from juicy dill tomato, asked the question she’d been trying to avoid. “Why did they boo that man? I thought he was okay in the movie.”
    The old man’s answering smile was as tart as the dill tomato. “He was a Friendly.”
    â€œYeah,” Patrick said, his lips white with powdered sugar from his blintz. “He ratted on people he thought were Communists.”
    â€œOnly most of them weren’t,” Scotty added. “And even the ones who were—I mean, being a Communist wasn’t illegal when they joined the party back in the thirties.”
    Birch spent the next five minutes being lectured to about the House Un-American Activities Committee, the Hollywood Ten, the blacklist, the graylist, Red Channels, a man named Dalton Trumbo, another man named Walter Winchell, and a lot of other ancient history that meant absolutely nothing to her.
    Mendy sipped his black coffee, grimaced, and reached into his pocket for a tiny pillbox. With yellowed smoker’s fingers, he lifted the lid, took out a small white tablet, andslipped it into his coffee. He stirred, drank again, and smiled at Birch, who was watching the operation closely.
    â€œMy grandfather had nitroglycerin pills for his heart,” she said in a low voice. “But his doctor wouldn’t let him drink coffee.”
    â€œThese aren’t nitro, kid,” the old man replied. “Just saccharin. I’m a diabetic, gotta watch my sugar.”
    â€œGinger Rogers, too,” Patrick said. “Wasn’t she a Friendly?”
    â€œNo,” Mendy said, his sharp eyes narrowing with bad memories, “that was her ma.” He shook his head. “Poisonous woman. Had a tongue on her so sharp it’s a wonder she still had lips.”
    â€œI always liked that Gene Kelly tried to fight the blacklist,” Scotty said. “Him and Bogie and Bacall.”
    â€œDon’t forget the divine John Garfield,” added Patrick. “They all went to Washington to protest the Committee. But then the studios cracked down and they all folded.”
    â€œThe whole thing scared the hell out of Kelly,” Mendy agreed. “The First Amendment committee, Bogie, Bacall, Eddie Robinson. They make their big statement and then come back to Hollywood and find out they’ll be fired unless they tell the world they were duped by the evil Commies. It killed Garfield, the whole mess. Friends on one side, friends on the other, people going to jail—it ate him up inside, and one day he just died.”
    Patrick asked the question on everyone’s mind: “Did you get called before the Committee, Mendy?”
    â€œBelieve it or not, I did. Went to a couple meetings, next thing I know I’m Public Enemy Number One. They hauled me up there, wanted me to name names. I said, hell no, I wasn’t gonna rat out my friends. Never worked again in the Industry. Not one day’s shooting did I get after that.”
    â€œWow,” Birch said, impressed. “But why didn’t you just tell them you were a Communist for a while but you didn’twant to name anybody else?” For some reason, she didn’t mind showing her ignorance before the old man. It was okay to know less than a guy who must be eighty years old.
    â€œWhat you have to understand,” Mendy said, “is that you couldn’t do that. Once you answered one question, you had to answer them all. That’s why the Ten took the Fifth.”
    Birch nodded as if this made sense. She supposed she knew what taking the Fifth meant, but who were the Ten?
    â€œThe Hollywood Ten,” Patrick whispered into her ear. “A bunch of writers. They refused to answer and they went to jail.”
    â€œSo if I’d gone in there and said, hell, yeah, I was a Commie and proud of it, or if I’d even said, I was a Commie and I’m