A Few Scars

The end of the McCarthy-Army hear ings finally seemed at hand. What damage or good had they caused? The original charges and countercharges had become all but secondary issues, and, with the testimony largely in, they could easily be disposed of: CJ Did Senator McCarthy and his chief counsel, Roy Cohn, try to get favored treatment for Private David Schine? Despite McCarthy's denials (see above), most TV-viewers would agree that they did. They would also agree that for a sickeningly long time, Army Secretary Stevens went out of his way to accommodate McCarthy and Cohn.

t| Did the Army use Schine as a "hostage"? Not proved; once he was in service, the Army never threatened to abuse or discriminate against him, instead treated him with kid gloves.

C| Did the Army try to "blackmail" McCarthy out of his investigations by publishing its report on the Schine case?

Not proved.

But the real effect of the hearings cut a hundred ways from these detailed charges.

Politically, it damaged the Republican Party's prestige across the U.S. Reason: both the "good guys" and the "bad guys" were Republicans. Secretary Stevens, as the Administration's chief warrior, won sympathy as an earnest, long-suffering gentleman, but lost respect, perhaps irrevocably, when he told to what lengths he had gone to accommodate McCarthy, Cohn and Schine. Counselor Adams, the genial fixer, emerged as a sly fighter, but one whom Roy Cohn thought he could outwit--and nearly did.

On the congressional side of the argument, the face of the G.O.P.--as TV saw it--was a sad face indeed. Its composite features: genial Chairman Mundt, the "tormented mushroom"; Illinois' orating Everett Dirksen ("Old Bear Grease"); Idaho's Henry Dworshak, who didn't know when he was being insulted; Michigan's well-meaning but generally ineffective Potter; and, of course, McCarthy.

If the Republicans were hurt, the Democrats were probably helped. They made the most of their tactical position wherein they had nothing to lose by demanding all the facts. During lunch-hour recesses, John McClellan, the old Arkansas buzzard, whispered and joked on the Senate floor with the coach, Democratic Leader Lyndon Johnson.

Back at the hearings, he called the signals for his two committee colleagues, Washington's Henry ("Scoop") Jackson and Missouri's Stuart Symington. Occasionally, Jackson got out of hand by worrying a point to death; Symington was caught with his monitored telephone calls showing, and probably gained nothing from his wrangling with McCarthy. But John McClellan saw to it that the net Democratic effect was to the good.

Smear & Evasion. Far beyond politics, the central issue was the effect the hearings would have on McCarthy's influence in the Senate, in the Administration and in the nation. It might be years before this would be precisely measured, but already most of the U.S. was inclined to view McCarthy's legendary, shadowy power through the unimpressive shades of black & white television. Only a confirmed minority cast him as a dauntless fighter, chipping away singlehanded at the forces of conspiracy and ignorance.

Most televiewers saw not an embattled hero but an impetuous and indiscriminate attacker, who vented his fury on friends and bystanders no less than on his vaguely defined enemies. Having smeared, he impugned smear to others; having sidetracked, he bewailed diversion; having deceived, he charged deception. If he had once been a potential leader in the Republican Party, he now had clearly demonstrated that he lacked the self-discipline necessary in any political organization. If he had once been an effective Communist hunter, the effectiveness was now seriously damaged because he had revealed the nature of his own character.

During the hearings he confounded his own attack. He started out against Stevens and Army Counselor Adams. Later he dragged in Assistant Defense Secretary Hensel (admitting last week that he had assumed Hensel's implication by "adding two and two"), and then hinted that Deputy Attorney General William Rogers was the guilty party. Finally, he charged that he was the victim of a Democratic scheme, masterminded by Harry Truman's onetime counsel, Clark Clifford. By frequently shifting his target, McCarthy revealed his own lack of conviction in his charges.

Judge & Jury. By aiming his fire, for the nonce, away from Republicans and towards Democrats, McCarthy seemed to be luring the party leaders back to their old hope that he might be a good, useful party sharpshooter after all. When Vermont's Ralph Flanders introduced a motion in the Senate to remove McCarthy from committee chairmanships, Senate Majority Leader Bill Knowland told him it was a "mistake," pleading that it might "completely block" the legislative program. A top G.O.P. adviser stated the Administration's cautious new policy: "We'll watch everything McCarthy does, and when he's reasonable and behaving like a Senator, we'll cooperate."

At week's end Joe McCarthy flew out to the Wisconsin state Republican convention and told its cheering delegates that he would continue his tactics, "even if I leave a few scars on my own party." The scars on the party were already there for all to see. It was now up to the party to see that none would be left on the U.S. body politic.

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