The Last Supper: And Other Stories Read Free Page A

think I’m man enough to confess that what I wrote in those years was wrong—yes, even subversive, the way we look at things today. I’m man enough to say that I’m sorry for what I wrote then—sorry and ready to disown it. In other words, I’ve found the humility that a creative artist must find at a certain point in his career, or stagnate. Humility. I’m not afraid of the word, Jack.”
    â€œHarvey.”
    â€œYes?”
    The lawyer shook his head and said, “Harvey,” again.
    â€œYou don’t believe me?”
    â€œOh, hell, I believe you. Of course, I believe you. Only—Oh, Christ, Harvey, the truth of the matter is that they don’t give a damn what you’ve written. They don’t read books. They don’t go to the theatre. This is a lot simpler and a lot more complicated. Yes, it’s the sins of your youth, but not the way you think. The fact is that someone has tipped them off to your past—either that you were a member of the Communist Party at one time or you associated with people who were, or maybe they think you still are. What this subpoena says is, come down to Washington and be, prepared to talk or we’ll ruin you. That’s all it says, Harvey, no more, no less.”
    â€œYou mean, they think I’m a member of the party?” Crane said slowly. “That’s fantastic.”
    â€œI think it’s fantastic, yes.”
    â€œBut how can you be so certain——”
    â€œBecause our firm has handled half a dozen of these cases. They run to form. We also are not without our own lines to Washington.”
    â€œThen can’t you fix it?” Crane demanded, his state of beatification beginning to dissolve. “If you have lines to Washington, can’t you put a fix in? God damn it, Jack, I pay you a retainer of five thousand dollars a year. That ain’t hay. If they think I’m a commie, that ought to be easy enough to disabuse them of. You know those politicians are crooked as hell. For a thousand dollars, you can buy a senator——”
    â€œI know, I know, Harvey. Don’t think I haven’t thought of that. But the subpoena is already served, and it’s no lead pipe cinch to fix it now. The point is, you have to be prepared to go down there and clear yourself, and, as I said this morning, to come out of this thing positively with your career unimpaired.”
    â€œAnd isn’t that what I was saying, Jack?”
    â€œNot quite. It may help to tell them that you’re sorry for what you wrote and that you were misled and misguided and even used as a tool. You can tell them how disillusioned you became with that whole commie crowd, and that will also help a little. But that’s background material, if you follow me. They are going to want to know if and when you were a member of the party and who else is or was. In other words, Harvey, they want cooperation. They want names. That’s how you wipe the slate clean. You name names.”
    â€œYou mean I become—an informer?”
    Henderson shook his head reprovingly. “I don’t even like the word, Harvey. We’ll think of cooperation , from here on.”
    â€œAnd if I refuse?” Crane asked, stiffening, head up, thinking to himself, God damn it, that’s the trouble with men like Henderson: Nothing but expediency! Everything gives way to expediency! They can’t understand that there’s such a thing as human dignity.
    â€œWell, if you refused—and I think we have to talk a good deal about this, Harvey—one of two things would happen. You could take a position on the Fifth Amendment and refuse to answer any questions, and then you’re through, finished, your career over. No play of yours could ever be produced again. Your name would never be mentioned on a dramatic page again. But—let me put it bluntly, Harvey—you would have to find other attorneys. We don’t