Six Crises by Richard Nixon Page B

conversation to which Chambers had testified.
    I answered by saying, “If Chambers’ credibility on the question of whether he knew you or not is destroyed, obviously you can see that this statement that he had a conversation with you and that you were a member of the Communist Party, which was made on the basis of this knowledge, would also be destroyed. And that is exactly the basis upon which this questioning is being conducted. If we prove that he is a perjurer on the basis of his testimony now, the necessity of going into the rest of the matter will be obviated.”
    After a few more questions, I asked Chairman J. Parnell Thomas to declare a recess so that Hiss could phone his wife, Priscilla, and make arrangements for her to appear before the Committee.
    Five minutes later, when Hiss returned to the Committee room, he was ready to talk. He said: “The name of the man I brought in—and he may have no relation to this whole nightmare—is a man named George Crosley. I met him when I was working for the Nye Committee. He was a writer. He hoped to sell articles to magazines about the munitions industry.”
    This man Crosley, he went on, had sublet his apartment on Twenty-eighth Street and had moved in with his wife and “one little baby.” “My recollection is that he spent several nights in my house because his furniture van was delayed. The apartment wasn’t very expensive and I think I let him have it at exact cost.”
    â€œHis wife and he and little baby did spend several nights in the house with you?”
    â€œThis man Crosley, yes,” Hiss replied.
    â€œCan you describe his wife?” I asked.
    â€œYes, he answered. “She was a rather strikingly dark person. Very strikingly dark.”
    I was the only one in the room to whom that answer was significant. I had seen Esther Chambers and I knew that she was indeed strikingly dark.
    Hiss insisted, however, that he could not say that Crosley and Chambers were one and the same person. He described Crosley as a “dead-beat” who stayed in the apartment during the summer months of 1935 and never paid any rent.
    â€œWhat kind of automobile did that fellow have?” Stripling asked.
    â€œNo kind of automobile,” Hiss replied. “I sold him an automobile. I had an old Ford that I threw in with the apartment, that I had been trying to trade in and get rid of. A slightly collegiate model. It wasn’t very fancy, but it had a sassy little trunk on the back.”
    â€œYou sold him that car?” I asked.
    â€œI threw it in,” Hiss replied. “He wanted a way to get around and I said, ‘Fine. I want to get rid of it. I have another car. We kept it for sentimental reasons—not worth a damn.’ I let him have it along with the rent.”
    â€œYou gave this car to Crosley?” I asked.
    â€œI threw it in along with the apartment—charged the rent and threw the car in at the same time,” Hiss replied.
    â€œIn other words, added a little to the rent to cover the car?”
    â€œNo, I think I charged him exactly what I was paying for the rent and threw the car in in addition. I don’t think I got any compensation.”
    From there I went on with the other questions which I had asked Chambers. In virtually every detail, Hiss’s answers matched those of Chambers. He had a brown cocker spaniel which he boarded at a kennel near Rock Creek Park when he went on vacation to the eastern shore of Maryland. He used to fetch water from the Druid Hills spring as a boy of twelve to sell in Baltimore.
    â€œWhat hobby, if any, do you have, Mr. Hiss?” I asked.
    â€œTennis and amateur ornithology,” he replied.
    â€œDid you ever see a prothonotary warbler?” McDowell asked.
    â€œI have, right here on the Potomac. Do you know that place?” Hiss replied. “ . . . They come back and nest in those swamps. Beautiful yellow head. A gorgeous