36
PARTISAN REVI EW
into his ear. I saw that Norman's hat was on the table. What was left of
his hair looked damp, and was pressed against the tanned surface of his
skull.
"Would you spell that for us, sir? Is it Jacobi with an
i
or a
y?"
"Yes," said our father. "It's with an
i.
J-a-c-o-b-i."
I
looked for Lotte, but everyone in the crowd behind the table was
blurred.
The same man, Mr. Walter according to the plaque on his high desk–
top, leaned into the microphone. "Mister Jacobi, we hope to take only
a few minutes of your time.
It
won't be necessary to do anything more
than repeat here the questions you agreed to answer in executive ses–
sion.
I
assume that arrangement sits well with you?"
My father nodded.
Mr. Walter: "You understand that your employer, Mister Jack
Warner, indicated that you were suspect in his eyes because, and
r
quote,
'He is always on the side of the underdog.' Do you wish to respond to
that? Or do you wish to make a statement?"
"No,
I
have no statement.
I
am ready to answer the questions."
"Mister Wood."
A second camera surveyed the congressmen in their leather chairs,
including the one who was just now putting on a pair of reading glasses.
"I
have just one question for the witness," he said, "though it comes in
two parts.
Have you ever been a member of a subversive organization?
That's part one. And part two is,
If so, what is the name of that orga–
nization?
May we proceed with your answers?"
It
was like a movie. The four of us, the two sons, the two servants,
watched entranced as the camera caught Norman in a medium close-up.
He nodded again. "In response to the first part of your question, the
answer is yes."
There was a gasp from the crowd, which was suddenly no longer out
of focus. The camera panned through the committee room: there were
the crouching reporters with their notepads, the photographers with
their flashbulb reflectors, the tangle of dark cords on the floor; and
there too were the rows of men and women, among whom, in a pillbox
hat and with slightly smeared lipstick, sat our mother. She was arm in
arm with Betty, her childhood friend.
"That's Lotte," said Bartie, putting his finger on the glass of the
screen. Then he put his lips there. "Here, Lotte. Here is a kiss for good
luck."
Arthur said, "Best turn the machine off, Mary. No good coming from
it. "
