From Hollywood

Some ten years ago, the late Jim McGuinness and I were in a huddle with a couple of the FBI boys on the Communist situation in Hollywood. Half a dozen names were named, and Mr. Hoover’s agents provocateurs asked for our evaluation of them. “Well,” I said, “Comrade A. is a born commissar. He would have no qualms in putting up the machine guns and ordering the faithful to mow down every house in the street. Comrade B. is a loyal robot who would unhesitatingly obey the order without perhaps realizing what he is doing. Comrade C.—” I hesitated. “At the last moment, I think Comrade C. wouldn’t fire; he is basically a decent fellow who has fallen for the line, but there is no blood lust in him.”

Jim McGuinness was pretty emphatic about Comrades D. and E., who, he said, would not only suffer no qualms but would delight in some bloodletting. About Comrade F., however, he was sympathetic.

MR

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Morrie Ryskind

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William F. Buckley Jr.

Some ten years ago, the late Jim McGuinness and I were in a huddle with a couple of the FBI boys on the Communist situation in Hollywood. Half a dozen names were named, and Mr. Hoover’s agents provocateurs asked for our evaluation of them. “Well,” I said, “Comrade A. is a born commissar. He would have no qualms in putting up the machine guns and ordering the faithful to mow down every house in the street. Comrade B. is a loyal robot who would unhesitatingly obey the order without perhaps realizing what he is doing. Comrade C.—” I hesitated. “At the last moment, I think Comrade C. wouldn’t fire; he is basically a decent fellow who has fallen for the line, but there is no blood lust in him.”

Jim McGuinness was pretty emphatic about Comrades D. and E., who, he said, would not only suffer no qualms but would delight in some bloodletting. About Comrade F., however, he was sympathetic.