The SF Hall of Fame Volume Two B (64 page)

While the print duplicators worked overtime Marrs worked
harder. The press and the radio shouted the announcement that, in every city of
the world we could reach, there would be held the simultaneous premieres of our
latest picture. It would be the last we needed to make. Many wondered aloud at
our choice of the word "needed." We whetted curiosity by refusing any
advance information about the plot, and Johnson so well infused the men with
their own now-fervent enthusiasm that not much could be pried out of them but
conjecture. The day we picked for release was Sunday. Monday, the storm broke.

I wonder how many prints of that picture are left today. I
wonder how many escaped burning or confiscation. Two World Wars we covered,
covered from the unflattering angles that, up until then, had been represented
by only a few books hidden in the dark corners of libraries. We showed and
named
the war-makers, the cynical ones who signed and laughed and lied, the
blatant patriots who used the flare of headlines and the ugliness of atrocity
to hide behind their flag while life turned to death for millions. Our own and
foreign traitors were there, the hidden ones with Janus faces. Our lipreaders
had done their work well; no guesses these, no deduced conjectures from the
broken records of a blasted past, but the exact words that exposed treachery
disguised as patriotism.

In foreign lands the performances lasted barely the day.
Usually, in retaliation for the imposed censorship, the theaters were wrecked
by the raging crowds. (Marrs, incidentally, had spent hundreds of thousands
bribing officials to allow the picture to be shown without previous censorship.
Many censors, when that came out, were shot without trial.) In the Balkans,
revolutions broke out, and various embassies were stormed by mobs. Where the
film was banned or destroyed written versions spontaneously appeared on the
streets or in coffeehouses. Bootlegged editions were smuggled past customs
guards, who looked the other way. One royal family fled to Switzerland.

Here in America it was a racing two weeks before the Federal
Government, prodded into action by the raging of press and radio, in an
unprecedented move closed all performances "to promote the common welfare,
insure domestic tranquillity, and preserve foreign relations." Murmurs—and
one riot—rumbled in the Midwest and spread until it was realized by the powers
that be that something had to be done, and done quickly, if every government in
the world were not to collapse of its own weight.

We were in Mexico, at the ranch Johnson had rented for the
lip-readers. While Johnson paced the floor, jerkily fraying a cigar, we
listened to a special broadcast of the attorney general himself:

". . . furthermore, this message was today forwarded to
the Government of the United States of Mexico. I read: 'the Government of the
United States of America requests the immediate arrest and extradition of the
following:

" 'Edward Joseph Lefkowicz, known as Lefko.'"
First on the list. Even a fish wouldn't get into trouble if he kept his mouth
shut.

"'Miguel Jose Zapata Laviada.'" Mike crossed one
leg over the other.

"'Edward Lee Johnson.'" He threw his cigar on the
floor and sank into a chair.

"'Robert Chester Marrs.'" He lit another
cigarette. His face twitched.

"'Benjamin Lionel Bernstein.'" He smiled a twisted
smile and closed his eyes.

" 'Carl Wilhelm Kessler.'" A snarl.

"These men are wanted by the Government of the United
States of America, to stand trial on charges ranging from criminal syndicalism,
incitement to riot, suspicion of treason—"

I clicked off the radio. "Well?" to no one in
particular.

Bernstein opened his eyes. "The rurales are probably on
their way. Might as well go back and face the music—" We crossed the
border at Juarez. The FBI was waiting.

Every press and radio chain in the world must have had
coverage at that trial, every radio system, even the new and imperfect
television chain. We were allowed to see no one but our lawyer. Samuels flew
from the West Coast and spent a week trying to get past our guards. He told us
not to talk to reporters, if we ever saw them.

"You haven't seen the newspapers? Just as well—How did
you ever get yourselves into this mess, anyway? You ought to know better."

I told him.

He was stunned. "Are you all crazy?"

He was hard to convince. Only the united effort and
concerted stories of all of us made him believe that there was such a machine
in existence. (He talked to us separately, because we were kept isolated.) When
he got back to me he was unable to think coherently.

"What kind of defense do you call that?"

I shook my head. "No. That is, we know that we're
guilty of practically everything under the sun if you look at it one way. If
you look at it another—"

He rose. "Man, you don't need a lawyer, you need a
doctor. I'll see you later. I've got to get this figured out in my mind before
I can do a thing."

"Sit down. What do you think of this?" and I
outlined what I had in mind.

"I think ... I don't know what I think. I don't know.
I'll talk to you later. Right now I want some fresh air," and he left.

As most trials do, this one began with the usual blackening
of the defendant's character, or lack of it. (The men we'd blackmailed at the
beginning had long since had their money returned, and they had sense enough to
keep quiet. That might have been because they'd received a few hints that there
might still be a negative or two lying around. Compounding a felony? Sure.)
With the greatest of interest we sat in that great columned hall and listened
to a sad tale.

We had, with malice aforethought, libeled beyond repair great
and unselfish men who had made a career of devotion to the public weal,
imperiled needlessly relations traditionally friendly by falsely reporting
mythical events, mocked the courageous sacrifices of those who had
dulce et
gloria mori,
and completely upset everyone's peace of mind. Every new
accusation, every verbal lance drew solemn agreement from the dignitary-packed
hall. Against someone's better judgment, the trial had been transferred from
the regular courtroom to the Hall of Justice. Packed with influence, brass, and
pompous legates from all over the world, only the congressmen from the biggest
states, or with the biggest votes were able to crowd the newly installed seats.
So you can see it was a hostile audience that faced Samuels when the defense
had its say. We had spent the previous night together in the guarded suite to
which we had been transferred for the duration of the trial, perfecting, as far
as we could, our planned defense. Samuels has the arrogant sense of humor that
usually goes with supreme self-confidence, and I'm sure he enjoyed standing
there among all those bemedaled and bejowled bigwigs, knowing the bombshell he
was going to hurl. He made a good grenadier. Like this:

"We believe there is only one defense possible, we
believe there is only one defense necessary. We have gladly waived, without
prejudice, our inalienable right of trial by jury. We shall speak plainly and
bluntly, to the point.

"You have seen the picture in question. You have
remarked, possibly, upon what has been called the startling resemblance of the
actors in that picture to the characters named and portrayed. You have remarked,
possibly, upon the apparent verisimilitude to reality. That I will mention
again. The first witness will, I believe, establish the trend of our rebuttal
of the allegations of the prosecution." He called the first witness.

"Your name, please?"

"Mercedes Maria Gomez."

"A little louder, please."

"Mercedes Maria Gomez."

"Your occupation?"

"Until last March I was a teacher at the Arizona School
for the Deaf. Then I asked for and obtained a leave of absence. At present I am
under personal contract to Mr. Lefko."

"If you see Mr. Lefko in this courtroom, Miss . . .
Mrs.—"

"Miss."

"Thank you. If Mr. Lefko is in this court will you
point him out? Thank you. Will you tell us the extent of your duties at the
Arizona School?"

"I taught children born totally deaf to speak. And to
read lips."

"You read lips yourself, Miss Gomez?"

"I have been totally deaf since I was fifteen."

"In English only?"

"English and Spanish. We have . . . had many children
of Mexican descent."

Samuels asked for a designated Spanish-speaking interpreter.
An officer in the back immediately volunteered. He was identified by his
ambassador, who was present.

"Will you take this book to the rear of the courtroom,
sir?" To the Court: "If the prosecution wishes to examine that book,
they will find that it is a Spanish edition of the Bible." The prosecution
didn't wish to examine it.

"Will the officer open the Bible at random and read
aloud?" He opened the Bible at the center and read. In dead silence the
Court strained to hear. Nothing could be heard the length of the enormous hall.

Samuels: "Miss Gomez. Will you take these binoculars
and repeat, to the Court, just what the officer is reading at the other end of
the room?"

She took the binoculars and focused them expertly on the
officer, who had stopped reading and was watching alertly. "I am
ready."

Samuels: "Will you please read, sir?"

He did, and the Gomez woman repeated aloud, quickly and
easily, a section that sounded as though it might be anything at all. I can't
speak Spanish. The officer continued to read for a minute or two.

Samuels: "Thank you, sir. And thank you, Miss Gomez.
Your pardon, sir, but since there are several who have been known to memorize
the Bible, will you tell the Court if you have anything on your person that is
written, anything that Miss Gomez has no chance of viewing?" Yes, the
officer had. "Will you read that as before? Will you, Miss Gomez—"

She read that, too. Then the officer came to the front to
listen to the court reporter read Miss Gomez's words.

"That's what I read," he affirmed.

Samuels turned her over to the prosecution, who made more
experiments that served only to convince that she was equally good as an
interpreter and lipreader in either language.

In rapid succession Samuels put the rest of the lipreaders
on the stand. In rapid succession they proved themselves as able and as capable
as Miss Gomez, in their own linguistic specialty. The Russian from Ambridge
generously offered to translate into his broken English any other Slavic
language handy, and drew scattered grins from the press box. The Court was
convinced, but failed to see the purpose of the exhibition. Samuels, glowing
with satisfaction and confidence, faced the Court.

"Thanks to the indulgence of the Court, and despite the
efforts of the distinguished prosecution, we have proved the almost amazing
accuracy of lipreading in general, and these lipreaders in particular."
One Justice absently nodded in agreement. "Therefore, our defense will be
based on that premise, and on one other which we have had until now found
necessary to keep hidden—the picture in question was and is definitely not a
fictional representatian of events of questionable authenticity. Every scene in
that film contained, not polished professional actors, but the original person
named and portrayed. Every foot, every inch of film was not the result of an
elaborate studio reconstruction but an actual collection of pictures, an actual
collection of newsreels—if they can be called that—edited and assembled in
story form!"

Through the startled spurt of astonishment we heard one of
the prosecution: "That's ridiculous! No newsreel—"

Samuels ignored the objections and the tumult to put me on
the stand. Beyond the usual preliminary questions I was allowed to say things
my own way. At first hostile, the Court became interested enough to overrule
the repeated objections that flew from the table devoted to the prosecution. I
felt that at least two of the Court, if not outright favorable, were friendly.
As far as I can remember, I went over the maneuvers of the past years, and
ended something like this:

"As to why we arranged the cards to fall as they did;
both Mr. Laviada and myself were unable to face the prospect of destroying his
discovery, because of the inevitable penalizing of needed research. We were,
and we are, unwilling to better ourselves or a limited group by the use and
maintenance of secrecy, if secrecy were possible. As to the only other
alternative," and I directed this straight at Judge Bronson, the
well-known liberal on the bench, "since the last war all atomic research
and activity has been under the direction of a Board nominally civilian, but
actually under the 'protection and direction' of the Army and Navy. This
'direction and protection,' as any competent physicist will gladly attest, has
proved to be nothing but a smothering blanket serving to conceal hide-bound
antiquated reasoning, abysmal ignorance, and inestimable amounts of fumbling.
As of right now, this country, or any country that was foolish enough to place
any confidence in the rigid regime of the military mind, is years behind what
would otherwise be the natural course of discovery and progress in nuclear and
related fields.

"We were, and we are, firmly convinced that even the
slightest hint of the inherent possibilities and scope of Mr. Laviada's
discovery would have meant, under the present regime, instant and mandatory
confiscation of even a supposedly secure patent. Mr. Laviada has never applied
for a patent, and never will. We both feel that such a discovery belongs not to
an individual, a group, a corporation, or even to a nation, but to the world
and those who live in it.

"We know, and are eager and willing to prove, that the
domestic and external affairs of not only this nation, but of every nation are
influenced, sometimes controlled, by esoteric groups warping political theories
and human lives to suit their own ends." The Court was smothered in sullen
silence, thick and acid with hate and disbelief.