Unregretfully, Alger Hiss


Almost fifty years after Whittaker Chambers first told a government official that Alger Hiss was a Communist, and forty years after Chambers’s charge was finally made public, Hiss has written Recollections of a Life (Seaver Books/Henry Holt), billed by its publisher as “his long-awaited memoir.” No one’s frank memoir would be more welcome; many, even among those who believed Hiss innocent, also believe he had been unable to tell the whole story in court.

Chambers, a pudgy, rumpled confessed ex-Communist, first tried to warn the White House about Hiss, who was then a minor State Department official, shortly after the Nazi-Soviet pact had been signed in 1939. Nine years later, on August 3, 1948, Chambers repeated his accusation before the House Committee on Un-American Activities.

The charge seemed wildly implausible, and the forty-four-year-old Hiss indignantly denied it. Lean and aloof, he was a graduate of Johns Hopkins and Harvard Law School and had been a protégé of Felix Frankfurter and Oliver Wendell Holmes, Jr., as well as secretary-general of the conference that drew up the charter of the United Nations. He had only recently been appointed by John Foster Dulles as president of the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace.

Hiss first testified that he had never even known “a man by the name of Whittaker Chambers,” then began grudgingly to equivocate, and finally admitted a slight acquaintance with Chambers, but under a different name and several years earlier than his accuser alleged. Otherwise he remained adamant and dared Chambers to repeat his charges outside the legal sanctuary of the hearing room.

He did so, on “Meet the Press,” and three weeks later Hiss sued him for libel. Chambers then produced documents that showed Hiss had been more than a Communist sympathizer; he had also provided classified State Department documents to Chambers, who had himself passed them along to the Soviets.


Hiss was indicted on two counts of perjury—for denying he had seen Chambers after 1937 and for denying that he had turned over classified papers to him. (He would have been indicted for espionage, too, had the statute of limitations not run out.) His first trial ended in a hung jury; a second jury found him guilty, and he was sent to prison for forty-four months.

From that day to this, Hiss has consistently denied ever having done anything wrong. There is not room enough in this column—or in this magazine, for that matter—to offer all the arguments and counterarguments involving Oriental rugs and missing teeth, underground aliases and allegations of forgery by typewriter that were central to this case, but I believe the most dispassionate, step-by-step account of it is still Allen Weinstein’s Perjury: The Hiss-Chambers Case (Knopf, 1978). Weinstein began his work suspecting that while Hiss may have been less than totally forthcoming about his friendship with Chambers, he had been innocent of both Communist sympathies and espionage, and he ended it nine years and 674 pages later convinced that Hiss had been guilty as charged. “There has yet to emerge from any source,” Weinstein concludes, “a coherent body of evidence that seriously undermines the credibility of the evidence against Alger Hiss.”

From the first, Hiss chose to portray himself as the blameless victim of reactionaries bent on discrediting “recent great achievements of this country in which I was privileged to participate,” thereby making himself a rallying point for those liberals who, as Walter Goodman once wrote, “could not concede that many New Dealers, including F.D.R. himself, had been slow in taking the Communists as seriously as they deserved to be taken. Those who...associated themselves with the sad cause of Alger Hiss made an error for which the liberal cause would pay in the next half dozen years,” years during which zealots took the Hiss conviction as a license to look for more Hisses in places where none existed.

Because Richard Nixon, a member of HUAC in 1948, had always claimed more credit than he should have for trapping Hiss, the chronic mendacity that in turn later trapped him lent a fresh, if specious, credence to Hiss’s ancient denials. If Nixon was a proven liar, Hiss and his most ardent loyalists seemed to argue, those whom he had accused of lying must be truthful.

Hiss once vowed “never to write an autobiography...because I hold certain strong views about privacy.” Unfortunately, in Recollections of a Life he has remained true to that pledge; it is a slender collection of reticent sketches, as well tailored but curiously distant as the man whom the jury chose not to believe almost forty years ago. He reveals no more than is absolutely necessary, withholding even the maiden name of his second wife. One whole chapter is devoted to an aunt who read aloud to him as a child, another to a singularly uneventful summer he spent in France, still another to having read aloud to Justice Holmes.