THE PROSECUTION OF PROFESSOR CHANDLER DAVIS : McCARTHYISM, COMMUNISM, AND
THE MYTH OF ACADEMIC FREEDOM
By Steve Batterson
Monthly Review Press. 232 pages. £18.99. ISBN 978-1-68500-035-0
Reviewed by Jim Burns
The early years of the 1950s were not a good time for communists in the
United States. Following the end of the Second World War, and the onset of
the Cold War, the hunt to identify those who had joined the American
Communist Party, and anyone who had been a fellow-traveller (a non-member
but sympathetic towards its ideas and policies), quickened. There may have
been some relaxation of the opposition to communism during the period,
1941-45, when Russia joined with America and Britain to fight Germany, but
it didn’t take long for the old suspicions to resurface. Churchill’s “Iron
Curtain” speech set the tone as communism took over in Yugoslavia, Bulgaria,
Hungary, Czechoslovakia, and other countries in Eastern Europe. Additional
factors – the Berlin Air Lift, the communist victory in China, Russian
development of the Atom Bomb, the Korean War, the trials of communist spies
like Klaus Fuchs and the Rosenbergs – heightened the tension and added to
the fear, stoked by people like Senator Joseph McCarthy, that
communists were everywhere and constituted a grave threat to national
security.
There had been something of a mini-purge of communists in Hollywood in 1947
when a number were summoned to Washington to appear before the House
Un-American Activities Committee (HUAC). There had been some support shown
for freedom of political belief and expression at first, but it soon
dissipated as a combination of adverse commentary, and the confrontational
behaviour of those who became known as The Hollywood Ten, turned people
against them. This is not the place to go into the rights and wrongs of
blacklisting and how it affected the film industry. There were even more
investigations into supposed infiltration of the studios by communists when
HUAC came to the film capital in 1953.
Numerous histories, memoirs, films, novels and plays have covered this
ground, perhaps inevitably because many of the people concerned were
writers. Not too much has been written about the painters, electricians,
plumbers and others in Hollywood who lost their jobs because of their
political affiliations or simply because they were active union members.
There are a couple of books I can think of which are relevant.
Hollywood’s
Other Blacklist: Union Struggles in the Studio System by Mike Nielsen
and Gene Mailes (British Film Institute, London, 1995) and Gerald Horne’s
Class Struggles in Hollywood
1930-1950 : Moguls, Mobsters, Stars, Reds, Trade Unionists (University
of Texas Press, Austin, 2001)
have much to say about what happened
to people who helped to make films but were never in the limelight. Their
stories were rarely told, nor were those of factory workers, civil servants,
seamen and many more who were blacklisted.
The same might be true of those at various levels in the education system
who suddenly had to face up to being interrogated by hostile HUAC members,
smeared in the press, and losing their jobs. Again, I’m turning to my own
bookshelves to select a few books that might provide a picture of
anti-communist activities beyond Hollywood. Ellen W. Schrecker’s
No Ivory Tower: McCarthyism and the
Universities (Oxford University Press, Oxford, 1986) is a key work on
its subject, while David R. Holmes’s
Stalking the Academic Communist : Intellectual Freedom and the Firing of
Alex Novikoff (University Press of New England, Hanover, 1989) and
Charles H. McCormick’s This Nest
of Vipers: McCarthyism
and Higher Education in the Mundel Affair,1951-52 (University of
Illinois Press, Urbana, 1989) look at individual cases.
All of which brings me to Steve Batterson’s book about the trials and
tribulations of Chandler Davis when his past caught up with him in November
1953. Davis, then “an instructor in the mathematics department at the
University of Michigan, received a visit in his office from Donald Appell,
an investigator for the House Un-American Activities Committee”. Appell
asked questions about Davis’s involvement with the Communist Party of the
United States (CPUSA) but he refused to answer and was served with a
subpoena to appear before HUAC early in 1954. It was to be the start of a
long process, involving much legal arguing, both at the university and in
the courts, which dragged on through the 1950s. It should be noted that by
1953 Davis had many doubts about what had happened in Russia and had
virtually severed his links to the Communist Party. HUAC, however, insisted
on knowing about his past.
Davis, born in 1926, was what was known as a “red diaper baby” due to his
parents being active communists. He absorbed a “sizable dose of CPUSA
culture” while growing up and, having been a “member of the CPUSA-related
Young-Pioneers” he joined the CPUSA itself in 1943. It was, he later said,
“just what I had been expecting to do all my life”. Davis was a student at
Harvard at the time. It is worth mentioning that his father had a somewhat
up-and down career in higher education and was dismissed from “a tenured
position as assistant professor of economics at the University of Kansas
City”. He had refused to answer questions when called before “HUAC’s cousin,
the Senate Internal Security Subcommittee”. After being fired from another
academic post because of his political opinions and activities he became the
Director of Research for the United Shoe Workers, a left-wing union whose
first president was the Harvard-educated socialist, Powers Hapgood.
Chandler Davis wasn’t the only
one-time communist at Michigan University to be questioned by HUAC. Among
them was Clement Markert, a biologist who in the 1930s was committed enough
to travel to Spain to fight with the American contingent of the
International Brigades. Batterson summarises his story and notes that, like
many others, he used the defence of the Fifth Amendment of the American
Constitution (the right not to self-incriminate) “as the only course that
permitted them to avoid both naming names and going to prison”. I don’t
intend to go into detail about Markert’s experiences. Suffice to say that,
despite his refusal to co-operate with HUAC; and the university’s review
procedures operating to determine whether or not he should be dismissed, he
did retain his post and went on to a distinguished career in his chosen
field.
What separated Davis from Markert is that he decided to use the First
Amendment, which covers freedom of speech and opinions, as his defence. He
maintained that neither the university, nor HUAC, had the right to “inquire
and pass judgement on his political views.” This immediately put him on a
collision course with them and, as noted earlier, resulted in a series of
hearings and court cases that culminated in 1956 with Davis being sentenced
to six months in prison, along with a fine of 250 dollars. Chandler appealed
and more court appearances followed, ending in 1959 when The Supreme Court
ruled against him and he went to prison.
I should point out that Battterson gives a lot of detailed
information relating to how the university’s disciplinary system functioned
and the workings of the American legal system.
What happened to Davis after he was fired by the University of Michigan?
With a wife and children to support it was essential that he find some sort
of employment. His wife, Natalie Zemon Davis, was later to become a
well-known historian, but in 1953 she was still a doctoral student. Briefly,
Davis worked in market research in New York, taught maths in the Columbia
University night-school programme, and during the academic year 1957/58 he
was ”successful in the keen competition for a National Science Foundation
Post Doctoral Fellowship”. In 1960 he was employed as a member of the
editorial staff of Mathematical
Reviews, “a periodical of the American Mathematical Society”. He also
became editor-in-chief of The
Mathematical Intelligencer, “which covered the history and culture of
mathematics”. But the key opportunity to change his career, and the course
of his life, came in 1962 when he was offered a post at the University of
Toronto in Canada. His wife in
the meantime had obtained her PhD in history from the University of Michigan
and taken a faculty position at Brown University.
The Davis family relocated to Canada and Davis was appointed a tenured
associate professor. Batterson says that he “became a major figure in the
fields of linear algebra and operator theory”. Natalie Zemon Davis “earned
acclaim as one of the foremost historians of her generation…..she’s best
known for her book The Return of
Martin Guerre and her role as historical consultant behind the French
film of the same name”.
Steve Batterson’s book will be of value to those who find the history of the
anti-communist hysteria that swept the United States in the late-1940s and
1950s of continuing interest. A great deal has been written about it but
there are always things that can be added to the overall account. And it may
be that some of the lessons to be learned from those days are still
relevant. Universities and schools increasingly find themselves under attack
from a variety of organisations with an axe to grind. Free speech on campus
is always threatened from one direction or another, and sometimes it seems
that the authorities are far too quick to back down in the face of
demonstrations and protests by relatively small groups. Chandler Davis was
courageous enough to stand up for what he believed was his right to his
opinions and to suffer for it. That he, supported by his wife, held out and
eventually triumphed against the odds stacked against him, is a tribute to
them both.
The book has a short but useful bibliography and extensive notes.