Marvel Cooke: Interview #6

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[Begin Tape 1, Side A]

Cooke: When I was a little younger, very much younger, we used to go to a lot of dances. Are you on?

Currie: Yes, we're on.

Cooke: Oh, I'm not going to talk, then. I'll tell you later.

Currie: Why not?

Cooke: I used to love to dress up. I had a beautiful evening dress, and some man told somebody, "You know, she was the most stunning person at that dance." And I used to see him coming down the street, and I would duck and go some other way around. I didn't want him to see me. [Laughter.]

Currie: How come?

Cooke: I felt embarrassed. I was just embarrassed.

Currie: You didn't like being regarded as an attractive woman?

Cooke: No, no. It upset me. I never thought I was. I said, "I don't want him to look at me." So I'd duck around corners to keep from running into him.

Currie: So you never thought of yourself as an attractive person?

Cooke: It was inbred in us, you know. The first thing was this [pointing to her head].

Currie: You had to be smart first.

Cooke: Yes, that's right.

Currie: That's interesting.

Cooke: Anywayó

Currie: I thought maybe we could go back to the Compass and talk a little more about your experiences there. Tell me if I'm missing anything. This is the point in an interview where I get real nervous that I'm missing something.

Cooke: What would you have missed?

Currie: I have no idea.

Cooke: We talked about the slave market.

Currie: Right.

Cooke: And I told you about the series on prostitution.

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Cooke: The Compass was the progressive newspaper. Oh, you mean the People's Voice?

Currie: No, the Compass. I guess what I'm trying to get at is, how did the other reporters treat you since you came from a newspaper that so clearly had a progressive stand? Did they regard that as a little bit illegitimate in terms of journalism?

Cooke: Not the staff. I think I told you that we thought we'd done this wonderful story on Brownsville, and the general manager, who was not a part of the editorial staff, was the boss. He didn't like it. He thought that weóanyway, no other paper had printed this story. "What do you mean by sympathizing with this young man who shot up the place?" We repeated the things the mother had said. Who believes in anyone shooting up? He should never have been released from the institution where he had been held for several years. He was not a well person. This came through in the story, blaming society, rather than blaming him.

Sol Abramson, who was the city editor, thought it was great, but Ingersollóhis name wasn't Ingersoll.

Currie: Corliss Lamont?

Cooke: No. Corliss Lamont owned the paper, but Ted Thackery was the general manager. I think that he thought maybeóoh, Corliss Lamont's a progressive, you know. I don't think he would haveóeven though he's a millionaire, he's a progressiveóI don't think he would have objected to the story. Corliss Lamont is on our board now, you know, American-Soviet Friendship Society.

Currie: I guess what I'm trying to ask is a different question, which is that other reporters, say, if you would go out on assignment and there would be a pool of reportersó

Cooke: It was such a small paper.

Currie: Reporters from other papers.

Cooke: Oh, from other papers.

Currie: Right. Say, reporters from the Daily News or the New York Times, how did they regard the reporters from the Compass?

Cooke: I think they thought we were a little mad, you know. Those that were members of the Guild, however, didn't feel that way. We were very close-knit in the Guild, in the early days of the Newspaper Guild.

Currie: When you say they thought you were a little mad, what do you mean?

Cooke: Well, that we were a little too progressive. But our friends in the other papers were all members of the Guild, so, you know, they didn't necessarily reflect the viewpoint of the papers they worked for. They were progressives that had to write the way they thought thatóthey knew the editors wanted it. But they were good trade unionists.

Currie: Other than that one experience with the Brownsville story, did you feel that on the Compass, you had room to express a progressive point of view?

Cooke: Oh, yes, yes. Editorially, it was progressive, and certainly when we went out into the street, we could report the way we saw it. Of course, there were discussions, and if there was anything that Sol, who was really one of us, thought was incorrect, after discussions, it was corrected. We had to be very careful, particularly in a series like the slave market. I think I said that before. Because I was in a Jewish community, and we didn't want it to be anti-Semitic.

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Currie: Can you describe how the Compass was set up physically?

Cooke: It was not too unlike the setup I described at the People's Voice, except it was a great deal larger and we occupied at least two floors of a big barnlike building in DuWayne Street. It's down in the Village area. The front of the building was the editorial departmentóit was very much like the People's Voice. There was the office for the sports editor. Jack McManus was the editor. Behind us, the general manager had an office. It was a big floor, and we worked out in the open. That's all. It wasn't fine like the offices are now, but it was a nice place to work.

Currie: So you all had desks side by side?

Cooke: No, no. We worked around a big round desk. The city editor, who was Sol Abramson, had a desk of his own, but we worked around a circular table. I worked side by side with two Dicks, Dick Armstrong on one side and Dick Carter on the other.

Currie: So it was one complete circular desk that you sat at?

Cooke: Yes.

Currie: You typed your own stories?

Cooke: Oh, yes. Typewriters, and underneath there was a section that you could put your papers and stuff. It's so long ago. I know it was like that, but to tell you the details, I couldn't.

Currie: A lot of news rooms are very busy kinds of places with lots going on.

Cooke: Yes, I guess. It had to be, because we had a morning shift, an afternoon shift, and a lobster shift. It was busy.

Currie: So the morning shiftóhow many editions did you have?

Cooke: Only one. Only one, but we worked almost around the clock, so that when a story broke, there would be somebody there to cover it.

Currie: Did you work the same shift all the time?

Cooke: No, we alternated, because when I was on the lobster shift, my husband would meet me up at the top of the hill. I came home around ten o'clock at night.

Currie: Whose work did you admire when you were working on the Compass? Which other reporters' work did you admire?

Cooke: Hugh Deane's, Richard Carter's, certainly. All of them. They were all very good craftsmen. They'd all worked around on different papers here, the Herald Tribune. I don't think anyone there, while I was there, was from the Times. But the Daily News, the Herald Tribune, the Post. They were glad to work at the Compassóthey were just a compatible group of people, very progressive-minded. I don't know their political affiliations, but they were progressive, good trade unionists, and it was just a very pleasant place to work.

Currie: When you say they were craftsmen, what do you mean by a craftsman?

Cooke: I mean they wrote well. They wrote well. It was a challenge for me, you know. I first thought, "My heavens, I can't do this. I don't have the expertise for this." But they were very helpful. Did I say that my problem was going from a weekly to a daily? And they realized it. I didn't realize what my problem was, but they did. They took me under their wing and said, "Look, you know, you have to do this story in one day. You don't have two or three days to develop it."

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Currie: There are a lot of illegal people who have to make some money on the economy.

Cooke: Most of those women were on relief. The women who were standing up there trying to get jobs were on relief and couldn't make it on what they got. So they worked for seventy-five cents an hour, which was, even at the rate one was paid as a worker then, it was dreadful. What could you do with seventy-five cents an hour?

Currie: Not much, but it was better than nothing.

Cooke: Yes.

Currie: I wanted to ask you, too, if the Rosenburg case was the last assignment you had at the Compass.

Cooke: Yes.

Currie: Did that bring up any feelings for you, having covered this trial, of two people whose politics essentiallyó

Cooke: I remember sitting there, listening to them, and thinking that, "There but for the grace of God, go I, because I'm progressive." I don't know, you know. I can't compare my feelings about the political setup in this country with theirs, but I remember saying, as I said in a case later, I actually said it in Angela's [Davis]* case, "There but for the grace of God go I." You know? It's hard not to personalize when you're out on a story like that, to bring yourself into it. It's hard not to. But I remember that Rosenberg* case so vividly. I wasn't on it very long. Somebody else had had it, and for some reason was pulled out, and I was delighted toóI wasn't delighted with itóbut I was delighted to get that assignment.

Currie: But it was closer to home base thanó

Cooke: Yeah.

Currie: How did you write that story with these conflicting emotions?

Cooke: I think I had learned just to present a story on its merits, and I didn't tryóyou don't editorialize, anyway; you just present it. I think it's in the way you present it, the things that you emphasize, that you get across your message. The way, perhaps, I would have described Mrs. Rosenberg and how she appeared, you know, but you don't editorialize at all. You just present theó

Currie: This is interesting. So as a journalist, you think you could describe her in a way that would be more sympathetic than less sympathetic.

Cooke: That's right. That's right. If you use words correctly, I think you can do that. But you don't editorialize the content.

Currie: I think that's an interesting point to be made. I guess what I'm exploring is this whole idea of objective journalism, and is there such a thing.

______________________ * Angela Davis was a Communist and a political activist during the turbulent sixties, who was jailed and tried in California trumped-up charges of murder, kidnapping, and conspiracy. *Julius and Ethel Rosenberg were convicted of espionage against the U.S. for the Soviet Union and were executed in 1953.

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Cooke: As a journalist?

Currie: For example, experience in the community or organizing or anything like that, that you think helped you as a journalist.

Cooke: It's difficult to answer. It seems to me my whole life, you know, because of the father and mother I had, my whole life and my work in the union and when I chose to work for the Domestic Workers Union, when Ben Davis came to us and wanted us to work for different people, different groups, I wanted to work with the Domestic Workers Union, because I felt it was difficult for them because of the kind of jobs they had, to have a union, and that they were kicked around.

I'm not answering your questions properly.

Currie: You're doing fine! Going back to the Compass, what do you think you learned in terms of being a reporter?

Cooke: What I learned, everything was so gradual. I started at the Amsterdam News and I handled copy at the People's Voice. Everything I did in the years during the thirties and forties was preparing me to work on a paper like the Compass. I find that a little difficult to answer.

Currie: What if you had been able to go and take a journalism degree or work on a school newspaper? Do you think that would have been helpful to you?

Cooke: When I was in college, had I done that, of course it would have been. I learned on the job, and that is difficult. I feel, in looking back, I feel that most of the black reporters I knew learned on the job. And I'm not sure that that wasn't true with the white reporters I knew, too. So it was a gradual getting to know what to do and how to do it. I wish I had taken courses in journalism. I read everything I could about how to present a story, and in the union, we would talk about it. So I think possibly I had as much training on the job as I might have got in the schoolroom, but it would have been easier.

Currie: What year did you leave the Compass?

Cooke: Let's see. It was an election year. Let's see. It was possibly 1952.

Currie: Then did you ever try to get another job in journalism after that?

Cooke: I didn't try to get any job. [Laughter.] It was during a period that my husband was doingófor us, very well. I didn't try to get a job in journalism, no. As a matter of fact, the next job I went toóI don't know whether you want to get into this. Are you through with the Compass?

Currie: I have a few more questions.

Cooke: All right. But when it closed, it was a shock to us, to everyone on the staff. As I said, I was jerked out of the courtroom where the Rosenbergs were on trial, and asked to come back to the office where the announcement was made that the paper was closing. It was an election year. Corliss Lamont obviously bought the paper so that he could get coverage. He was seeking some state position, and he didn't win. He lost, and he closed the paper. We were kind of incensed about it. I don't know that any one of them got jobs in journalismóI stayed close to Sol Abramson. All my life I will be close to Richard Carter and his wife. But Sol did not get another job on a newspaper and he was considered the best city editor in the whole city. He had that reputation in the Newspaper Guild, that he was the very best. Richard Carter was known as one of the cleverest and best writers in town. He never went back to a newspaper. Sol is now not with us; he's dead. I don't remember what he did. I know he used to meet me at my job and we'd have dinner together often. But he didn't work for a newspaper. The one who came more closely to working with a newspaper was Hugh Deane, who was interested in a Chinese organization.

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and I certainly did whatever I was assigned to and tried to approach it properly, as a journalist, not as a progressive, but as a journalist and then as a progressive. But I can't imagine passing up a story. I haven't had that experience, I don't think.

Currie: I think I'm about ready to leave the Compass for now.

Cooke: Well, the Compass didn't live very long, either.

Currie: No, it didn't.

Cooke: Which was a shame. Some things that happened. I don't know whether it ought to be on tape or not.

Currie: We can talk about them, and then you can expunge them later, if you'd like.

Cooke: There was a strange thing that happened at the Compass. Dick and his "we must have more black people on the staff," there was a secretarial job open in one of the departments. It was in the business department; it wasn't in the editorial department. He knew a young black girl who had worked with his wife. I think her name was Marguerite. I had met her. He said, "Don't you think Marguerite would be perfect for that job?"

I said, "Yeah! She's very bright." He knew it would be pulling a good worker away from his wife. She was in the news field, too. He proposed her for the job, and as things developed, instead of thanking Dickóyou know, he really was doing it because he thought it was correct that we should have more black workers on that paperóshe thought that he'd proposed her for a job that was too hot for a white worker. I've forgotten the circumstances. In the union, she brought him up on chargesóshe was a member of the Newspaper Guildóthat he proposed her for a job that was too hot foró

Currie: "Too hot" meaning?

Cooke: Meaning it was too difficult.

Currie: He was setting her up.

Cooke: Yeah. She said that he didn't do it because he wanted to see more blacks in the newspaper industry. It was really awful. I never liked her after that, you know, becauseó

Currie: It put you in a very difficult position.

Cooke: It did. I know that the union had a meeting about it afterwards. I was asked a question, and I remember being angry at the question that was asked me, because I felt that Dick was unjustly treatedóyou know, he was really on a crusade: "Let's see that we get qualified Negroes into the newspaper field." We were not "black" yet. The meeting seemed to be about me. His wife had asked me, when she couldn't stay, they had a small child and lived in this area, she said, "Marvel, please, when this meeting breaks up (it was a union meeting), see that Dick gets home." This young woman said, "Instead of praising me for criticizing Richard, she put her arms around him and kissed him." I didn't kiss him. I said, "In other words, you're trying to call me an Uncle Tom?" And they couldn't handle that one, so the whole thing went away.

But there was a dearth of black workers in the white pressóalmost none, even in secretarial positions at that time. Of course, since then, Roger [Wilkins] has had a very good job at the New York Times. He was on the editorial board. And I see on the Daily News, there's a black gentleman by the name of Caldwell.

Currie: There are a number of key blacks.

Cooke: Yes. But at that time, there weren't any.

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I had never directed anything like that, never had thought of any such job. But when I went to talk to him about it, there was a young black woman secretary who couldn't spell "cat." I had known her when she worked at the NAACP. She was highly incompetent. And he told me I would have a secretary; the secretary would be this woman. I couldn't see myself saying anything about her. I never talked about, you know, people who were in the work force to a boss. Of course, this man wasn't a boss; he was just interested in getting people in the arts and sciences involved in political issues. So this job was not for me, because I knew that I could not work with her. I knew her as a highly incompetent person. Some blacks can be incompetent.

Currie: Like some whites.

Cooke: So I refused the job. They kept after me. Finally, they moved to a new location on West Sixty-fourth Street, between Central Park West, and I guess the next street is maybe Broadway. Anyway, I went to see him again. I knew I was going to say no. [Tape interruption.]

Currie: You said they moved to West Sixty-fourth Street.

Cooke: Right. He said, "We really want somebody like you. You're known and you've been active in the Newspaper Guild. We would like to have you here as the New York director of the Council of Arts, Sciences and Professions."

So I said, "Well, I'm looking for a newspaper job or a writing job." I think I said, "I'm working on my novel," which was kind of true.

Currie: So you would still pick up that novel and work on it?

Cooke: I'd have to do some more research now, but it has an interesting subject.

Currie: But over the years, you worked on this?

Cooke: Yes, I did. So anyway, to get back to this, I kept looking around. "Where isó" I'm not going to mention her name. "Where is she?" I didn't see her. So I said, "Is Miss So and So still here?"

He said, "Oh, no, we let her go last night." [Laughter.]

The job was interesting. A lot of people whom I'd known belonged to it, not too many black people, but people I had known and people I would want to know, like John Randolph. So I started thinking about the job seriously. "Am I qualified for such a job?" "Oh, yes, you're really qualified." So I finally took it, and it was really an interesting job to have, a position to have. I met a lot of my old friends, some I had known in the Communist party, some of them in jobs I'd had. I met many new friends whose names I had known. It was really quite a nice job.

Currie: What did you do in this job?

Cooke: Just supervise activities.

Currie: So the purpose was to get groups of people in theseó

Cooke: In these different professions, to motivate them to get into political action of some kind.

Currie: And this was a paid job?

Cooke: Yes, it was a paid job.

Currie: You would characterize it as progressive?

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because [Dimitri] Shastakovich* was on the podium the whole time. My husband was a music buff, and he loved Shastakovich. I thought, "If I could only just get close enough to him to see him." The last day of the conference, Shastakovich got down off the dias and came down the aisle in which I was sitting. I said, "At least I'll get a good look at him." When he got to me, he came up to me and said, "We are so proud of the American that came to this meeting." I had been pointed out as the only American who got to this conference. "We're so proud. Here's a gift for you. Please give this one to Mrs. Robeson." He handed me two packages. Well, I don't think any moment of my life has been as exciting.

I was invited byóI knew little about the peace movement, as such, you knowóI know I believed in peace, but anyway, I was invited to go to the World Peace headquarters. I was in a small group of people, and I'm sure this is what caused me to be invited to Vienna. An American woman had attended a peace meeting in Europe the year before. I happened to have known her. It was the height of the McCarthy period. She had made a statement that there was no fight-back in this country.

Currie: What did she mean?

Cooke: She meant that the McCarthyites could put anything over, and there was no organized fight back. And I took exception to that. I said, "That's not true. It's true that we're a rich country dominated by Wall Street, but there are a lot of people in the country who want the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence to dominate our society. There are a lot of people in the United States, including me, who don't feel like that." And I think it was that statement that caused me to be invited to Vienna. I did go to Vienna before I came back.

It was like the other day, I walked into this room and here are all these various people from various countries, various races, and lots of lights and stuff, and I was the celebrity because I'd made this statement that there was fight-back. I wasn't prepared to really back up the statements that I made, but I knew from my heart that there are a lot of us in this country who are dedicated to working for a peaceful world. As a matter of fact, there would be no use for the Communist party here if we could get poverty and all these things straightened out.

Anyway, I was there for a week. And then I was invited to go to the Soviet Union and China! I really wanted to go, but I had promised Paul that I would be back at a certain date to report to him what had happened. So I said I was very flattered by this invitation, but I couldn't take it because I had to get back to the United States.

Currie: Who invited you to the Soviet Union and China?

Cooke: The committee that ran the peace organization asked me would I not like to go to the Soviet Union. I was very curious about the Soviet Union, and I would have liked to have gone, and also to China, but I didn't go.

So when I came back and made my report to Paul, I mentioned this. It wasn't that important, but I mentioned it. He said, "Well, why didn't you go?"

I said, "Because you said you wanted me to be back here by such and such a date."

But he said, "You should have used your head and gone."

Currie: How did you know Paul Robeson?

Cooke: Let me go way back. Eric [Walrond], my boyfriend, had known him, and I was introduced to him. I had no idea that he had the potential of being the great world-renowned artist and activist that he did become. It was on a trip toóhe was going to Europe with his small son,

______________________ * Dimitri Shastakovich was a Soviet composer.

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Cooke: Who?

Currie: The Communist party. Did they have meetings?

Cooke: I guess they do, but I have neveróas a matter of fact, I think I was protected. During this period, in the fifties, I could not have moved around as freely if I had been known as a Communist, you know. I knew most of the heads of the party. I've met Gus Hall*. He calls me "Minnesota" when he sees me. He's from Minnesota. But I never was in top level meetings. I was never a party functionary.

Currie: So you never had things that you were doing to organize the party?

Cooke: No, never anything like that. What can I say?

Currie: What was your role, then, in the party?

Cooke: Well, my role was to be a good trade unionist, you know, just to be a good trade unionist. In my relationship, for instance, with a person like Safiya, I would never try to impose my political views on her or anybodyóor anybody! You or anybody else. But if after discussionóa long discussionówe seemed to see eye to eye, I might broach it. "Why haven't you?" You know. But that wasn't my role.

Currie: But that was something you decided you would do for yourself?

Cooke: That's right.

Currie: That was notó

Cooke: I've never been a functionary, and I wouldn't. I don't think I would be good as a functionary.

Currie: I can't see you taking orders from anyone.

Cooke: You can't? Well, anyway. I don't know that that's the way the Communist party is. I have a feeling that they build their common program out of wide discussion, but I don't know that. It's just a feeling that I have.

Currie: So you're not really quite sure how it's organized?

Cooke: Well, if I did know, I don't think it's myóI shouldn't say that. I've never been a part of the inner organization. I've been a member of the party who was active in the Newspaper Guild, for instance. I know that, for instanceóand we'll talk about it lateróI'm sure that I was asked to work in the Angela [Davis] campaign because the Communist party trusted me. But I have never been a functionary, and I don't think I would do well as a functionary. I mean, that isn't the way I work, anyway.

Currie: But you say your role was to be a good trade unionist. Was that because they said, "Someone saysó"?

Cooke: Nobody said anything to me ever. I have never been given any sort ofóI know people within the Newspaper Guild who were already Communists, and I knew them before I became a Communist. I knew them as trade unionists in the Guild. When I actually joined and I found out So-and-so and So-and-so and So-and-so, I said, "I should have known," because they work in a

______________________ * Gus Hall is head of the Communist party, USA.

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Cooke: They didn't say. They came back to get it in a week or so. It was right here all the time. I can put my hand on my passport right this minute. I gave it to them. They said, "Thank you for being cooperative." I said, "You're welcome." That was the end of that passport. [Tape interruption.]

Currie: So they took your passport and that was that.

Cooke: That's the end of that. The lawyer I spoke to, whose name I won't give you, but I knew him as being as progressive as I was.

Currie: Was he also a party member?

Cooke: Yes. I trusted him. I still trust him.

Currie: So what happened next?

Cooke: I was working for ASP [Arts, Sciences, and Politics], and I continued working there until it closed.

Currie: Why did it close?

Cooke: Lack of money. It was the McCarthy period. Lack of money. Couldn't keep a program like that without solid financial back-up. It thrived during the Roosevelt years, because Roosevelt had become known as a progressive president, people were excited and afraid he wouldn't get in again. But without a person like that to work for, a progressive organization like ASP could not thrive. It costs a lot of money to run organizations, as I found out this morning [referring to a committee meeting for another organization which she had attended that morning]. So it closed. Not because it wasn't a good organization with a lot of wonderful people supporting it, but it takes a lot of money to run an organization in this town.

Currie: Yes. So when were you called up before the McCarthy hearings?

Cooke: I think before I finish, I should tell the storyóor did I tell the storyóabout how John Randolph was running around, trying to getóI've told that story so much, trying to get someone to propose to theówhat's the actor's organization?

Currie: Actor's Equity?

Cooke: Did I tell that story?

Currie: I think you did.

Cooke: I think so, too. John Randolph didn't know Ossie Davis at that time; neither did I. But Ossie got up and made a motion at an Actor's Equity meeting to support Paul in his fight for the return of his passport. Ralph Belamy, who was the chairman of the Actor's Equity then, was very angry with all of them and would have liked to have thrown them out. But the motion passed by a huge margin. But it was just sad about Paul during those days.

Currie: How was it to be his friend during that time? What was it like?

Cooke: I think he gained more friends. I don't think he lost anybody who was really a friend. He had grown so as an artist, and as a political activist. I think it did something to him, however. He lived in this area, you know.

One day I was on Amsterdam Avenue and accosted by a friend who wanted me to go to a $500 Democratic dinner. I could go for nothing, she said. However, it was a political dinner that I wasn't interested in. I knew somebody was standing in a doorway behind me. It was dusk, about like now. When we broke up, I heard this voice say, "Marvel." It was Paul!

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He told me, "If you feel that the question they're asking you is going to open up a long discussion of any kind, call on the Fifth Amendment."

Currie: A long discussion of anything particular?

Cooke: No, political, any political questions. But if it was just, you know, an ordinary question, I could answer it. "I'll be there at your side," he said. "But if you think it's leading to anything that might reflect on you politically or anybody else politically, call on the Fifth Amendment." He had some other work to do. He said, "I'll meet you over at the court at one o'clock." He had postponed this meeting until one. "I'll meet you at one o'clock."

So I remember I bought a [New York] Post, and I went through it to see what on earth McCarthy was doing in New York, trying to see if any of the stories would reveal to me, or give me any hint as to what he wanted with me. So I got over to the court at one o'clock, and my lawyer was there. I had the Post and this large pocketbook. I always carry great big things. When I walked in, there was Senator McCarthy, Cohn, and Schein sitting there. Anyway, I folded the paper and I put my pocketbook down on top of the paper. He said, "Mrs. Cooke, what is that paper you've got there?"

I said, "Oh, it's the Post." I knew he thought it was the Daily Worker, because it was a tabloid. The Post was a tabloid. So was the Daily Worker. So I picked up my pocketbook and said, "Oh, Senator McCarthy, this is a New York Post. There are several stories in it about you. Would you like to have it?" My lawyer said afterwards he knew I was going to be all right, you, know, because I was flip.

He asked me a lot of questions. I couldn't possibly tell you what they were, but a lot of questions that didn't seem like anything to me, you know. So I answered them. So finally, he said, "Mrs. Cooke, where were you working in 1947?" Well, that was the end of the People's Voice. The People's Voice was dead. So I said, "Oh, I was working at the People's Voice." What did I say that for? That's what he wanted.

There was a young woman, who was a red-baiter, who worked in the business office of the People's Voice. Anytime we would have a union meeting and a progressive motion came before the floor, you would hear this sibilant whisper, "CP! CP! CP!" I hated that woman! Her name was Doris Walters.

He said, "Well, you worked at the People's Voice. Did you know a person by the name of Doris Walters Powell?" I didn't know that she had married, that she was now Powell. I did know Doris Walters. A day or two before that, I'd seen in the Daily News a headline "Red Aide to Army Fired." That's what it said: "Red Aide to Army." And I read the story. I wondered what red aide this was. It was Doris Walters. Not even a good trade unionist.

Currie: And certainly not a Communist.

Cooke: And certainly not a Communist. She had been fired as red aide because she had worked at the People's Voice, where Doxey Wilkerson, a known Communist was employed. She lost her job because she had worked at the People's Voice! I mean, the army job.

So when they asked me did I know a person by the name of Doris Walters Powell, I knew exactly what they were after, because I'd seen the story that she had been fired as a red aide to the army. So I called on the Fifth Amendment, and Senator McCarthy looked at me and said, "Mrs. Cooke, you opened this subject matter. It's on the table because you did say you worked at the People's Voice. And anything that happened at the People's Voice, anything we ask you about the People's Voice, you must answer."

I said, "I'm may go to jail for this, but I still call on the Fifth Amendment." So they couldn't get anything out of me.

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I remember spending that weekend getting as beautiful as I know how to get, getting a very conservative, but beautiful dress out to wear. I felt so sorry for my husband. Here he is, married to this girl who looked like she was going to be a society somebody, and she gets herself in all this mess. I remember looking at him and feeling so sorry for him. He took me to the airport. I said, "Babe, if youó" Everybody called him Babe and called me Baby, because he was known, as an athlete, as Babe Cooke. So I said, "Babe, if you would divorce me tomorrow, I wouldn't blame you." I think that's quote-unquote. And he said, "Baby, you are beautiful." That's all he said. And I went to Washington. I had enough sense to stand there in the airport until the next New York plane came. On the next plane was the lawyer, and we stood there and waited till the next one came, and there was Doxey. So Doxey was filled in by the lawyer and me as to what had gone on.

Currie: About your being called beforeó

Cooke: Before McCarthy, in executive session. I should tell you I read in the New York Times the day after I saw him in executive session, that McCarthyóI wanted to see what he was doingóMcCarthy had interrogated a woman so powerful in the Communist party that she gave directions to the leadership. So I knew somebody in the party had been interrogated by McCarthy. I have never wanted any designation or anything; I just wanted to do my little job at the polls. So I said, "Oh, they caught Claudia. Poor Claudia."

My lawyer called me, the one that had gone with me to the executive session, and said, "Did you see your publicity in the Times this morning?"

I said, "No. They didn't even mention it."

He said, "You didn't see that story? They're talking about you!" [Laughter.] You know, it was so ridiculous! Because I am more mentally an activist. I do my job, but I have never been a party functionary of any kind.

Currie: But you were the one they were referring to?

Cooke: Yes! And I couldn't believe it. He said, "Of course that's you they're talking about."

I said, "Well, that's no description of me."

He said, "They're talking about you."

So anyway, we were in Washington. By this time, I was pretty calm about McCarthy. I thought he was a little sleaze ball, you know, and I felt so superior to him. So he started asking me all the questions he had asked me in executive session. There was quite an audience there. It was the very first day of the Army-McCarthy hearings.

Currie: Can you describe what it looked like?

Cooke: Big courtroom.

Currie: It was on Capitol Hill, wasn't it?

Cooke: Yes, it was on Capitol Hill. I really can't remember much about it. I just remember what it looked like and how I felt about it. I was up on an incline of some kind. Where I was seated was higher than where McCarthy wasóI looked down at him. He asked me a lot of inane questions that weren't very important.

Currie: Like what?

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He called me up one Saturday and I thought, "Oh, God, he's going to want me to go down to that office and work over this weekend. He wants something done." He said, "How would you like to go to London, Brussels, Budapest, Bucharest, and Moscow?"

I said, "I've got my bag packed." I thought he was joking.

He said, "No, I mean it. I want to take you and two others from the office on this trip." So I didn't have a passport, and I didn't tell him, because I wanted to go. I thought, "Let me see about trying to get this passport." So I had difficulty, but Kunstler had found out about it, and he called and said he was in Washington and could he help.

Currie: A counselor?

Cooke: Kunstler. William Kunstler*.

Currie: Oh, William Kunstler. Oh, that's interesting.

Cooke: Anyway, he managed to get my passport. Roger [Wilkins] had tried. He was just a new, young lawyer at that time, and he couldn't. He didn't have theóhe really wasn't equipped to do it. Kunstler was already in Washington and he got it for me.

Currie: Do you know how he got it?

Cooke: I don't know. I just know I got my passport and I've had it ever since.

So we made the trip. Sam took his daughter, Judy, on that trip, too. We stopped first in London, where we visited the Robesons. It was just great. It was so wonderful. Paul had had such a lousy experience here in New York, you know, in this country. When we would be on the streets of Soho, or we would be in a restaurant, he was recognized by everybody. I've seen cabbies jump out of their cabs and say, "Oh, there's Robeson!" and run to get his autograph. It always happened. We were there five days, and we stayed in a hotel near the Robeson apartment. Anytime we went out and Paul was with us, somebody would stop and say, "I want an autograph." In the restaurants, he could hardly eat his dinner, you know. He was such a popular person. He was popular here, too, but not with our government.

Currie: So what had you done between 1955 and 1960 for a job?

Cooke: The only jobs I've ever hadóI guess I was doing nothing. Because I haven't had a lot of jobs. I know every one I've had. I enjoyed working with Sam. I don't think I worked at all during that time.

Currie: Then you worked for Dr. Rosen.

Cooke: Then I worked for Dr. Rosen.

Currie: How long did you work for him?

Cooke: Well, I worked for him maybe five or six years. It was very pleasant, except Belle Sien did not like me. I don't know. Have you ever worked anyplace where you got the feeling that somebody didn't like you?

Currie: I think everyone has.

Cooke: But she did not like me. For instance, this is the type of thing she'd do. Sam often went on teaching trips to Europe or to Africa. The audiologists could test and do things like that,

______________________ * William Kunstler is a well-known liberal attorney.

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It's always the best door in the house, you know. I have a gorgeous wreath and I always have a peace message on the door, not a political one, but just a peace message of some kind. I had my Christmas door up, and I got this telephone call from William L. Patterson. Bobby spoke about him, asked me did I know him. His daughter has children about the same age as William Patterson's daughter. He was a party functionary, and I was very much in awe of William L. Patterson. But anyway, he called me and said he wanted to see me, and could he come up. I said, "Certainly." I've known him for a number of years. I thought, "Oh, that Christmas door. He'll think I'm frivolous, a door like that." I started to take it down. I said, "No, he's going to see that door." And he came with another party functionary that I didn't know. Angela had got into difficulty duringó

Currie: Angela Davis.

Cooke: Davis. They talked about Angela and Angela's case, and they asked me if I would work for Angela. Well, I was delighted, because I was very angry about what had happened to Angela. I didn't know her, you know. She could be my daughter easily. But I thought that but for the difference in age, difference in place of birth and occupation, if I had as much talent as she had, there go I. I could see myself getting into a situation like that.

Currie: Let's go back and explain how you saw the situation she was in.

Cooke: Well, she was arrested for helping some activist. Wasn't the man in jail or something? She was active in their defense. Something like that. I would have to research it. But anyway, I had read about her case and I felt, "Yes, this is somebody I'd like to work with." I'd never met her and knew only what I'd read in the newspapers. But anyway, I thought this would be a good activity for me. I wasn't doing anything. I thought I would be writing letters. They knew that I had some facility with words, and I thought maybe I'd just be writing letters and stuff like that. A New York office was being set up in her behalf. I thought, "Well, yes, I think I would like to do this." They asked me about salary. I said I couldn't take anything for this, but I would need my expenses. So I worked for expenses.

Before they found an office, there was a story inóI don't know what the name of the paper was thenóDaily Worker, saying that I was going to be the national legal defense secretary for Angela Davis. They didn't explain what my job would be. I only knew I would be working for Angela, for her case. One day I got a letter from some little women in Austria, enclosing $4,000 in my mailbox here.

Currie: In cash?

Cooke: No, it was a check, $4,000, these little workers in Austria had sent. It was really thrilling.

Currie: Was it your job to raise money?

Cooke: Yes, it was to coordinate the work with what was going on in California. Ossie Davis was the chairman, and I was the legal defense secretary. We had meetings to discuss the case and what could be done about it, and suggested ways to fund-raise. We were at One Union Square. It was a thrilling period.

Currie: How long did you work on that?

Cooke: Until the case was over. There was no need for it any longer. It wasn't a cause case like that. She was freed. The interesting thing about that, we wanted to raise a good amount of money, and I had never thought of having an affair at a place like Madison Square Garden. You know, I'd been involved in small affairs, but never anything like that. Somebody suggested we should have a big rally at Madison Square Garden for Angela, to raise money. This was before