A Question of Names

    The American Patriot Committee had solemnly convened. The three men sat behind a long, elevated table, imperious, in starched shirts and dark wool suits despite the simmering August heat. The ceiling fans clacked-clacked endlessly overhead, casting intermittent shadows across the flesh of their considerable foreheads. They were serious to the pointing of being grim, in no mood for any talk other than the defendant trying to explain himself.
    “You were involved with Local 37 of the electricians’ union, am I correct, Mr. Lehrer?” the man on the right said, not looking up from the sheaf of papers which he compulsively shuffled.
    “Yesss,” the defendant replied slowly, drawing out the syllable, stalling as he tried to figure out where the panel was going with this line of questioning. “I organized for them.”
    “Hmmm, yes, organized,” the man said. “Nice word for it, organized. You are also familiar then, Mr. Lehrer, with Joseph Messmer.”
    “Yes, he heads the local,” Nathan Lehrer replied flatly.
    “Yes he does. That and much more. It’s an established fact, Mr. Lehrer, that Joseph Messmer takes his orders directly from Moscow.”
    “I wouldn’t know anything about that,” Lehrer insisted, tension rising slightly in his voice.
    “You wouldn’t, eh? I think you do. I think you know quite a bit about it.”
    He said nothing. Here he was, about to be branded like the others.
    He had dinner with Messmer on just two occasions, even refusing the other’s offer of a nightcap the first time, so wary was he of Messmer’s reputation. All Lehrer wanted to do was sign up as many journeymen to the union as he could, and Messmer had intimated that he knew the right strategy for Lehrer to take. So Lehrer accepted the first dinner offer, only to have Messmer quickly dispense with all talk of organizing laborers in favor of more abstract discussion of class warfare and the justification of armed revolt.
    Messmer’s dangerous talk unnerved Lehrer, for whom the dinner couldn’t end quickly enough.
    Why he ever accepted Messmer’s second invitation he would never be able to explain. Messmer had been conciliatory, apologizing for how he had gotten off the subject Lehrer was interested in, and insisted that their next talk would consist of nothing but organizing.
    Lehrer joined Messmer again, warily this time, but Messmer quickly reverted to talk of revolt, and Lehrer excused himself and left before their soup even had a chance to cool.
    Just two meetings, one of them brief and neither one damning to Lehrer, and yet here he was before the Committee, trying to remain calm as his fate was coldly determined.
    “We don’t really want you, Mr. Lehrer,” the man on the right said, suddenly trying to sound reassuring. Lehrer wasn’t buying it, not by any means.
    “We’re more interested in people you may know.”