Nathan Eisler. Forty-nine years old. A German Jew who fled Hitler and company in ’34; CP member ’36 to ’40, then member of a half dozen Commie front organizations. Co-scenarist on a string of pro-Russki turkeys, his writing partner Chaz Minear; poker buddies with Morton Ziffkin and Reynolds Loftis.
Wrote under pseudonyms to guard his professional privacy; slipped through the HUAC investigators’ hands; currently living under the alias Michael Kaukenen, the name of the hero of _Storm Over Leningrad_. Currently scripting RKO B
westerns, under yet another monicker, the work fronted by a politically acceptable hack writer who glommed a 35 percent cut. Best pals with Lenny Rolff, fellow writer expatriate, today’s second interrogee.
Former lover of Claire De Haven.
They took a toy-littered walkway up to the porch; Mal looked through a screen door into the perfect prefab living room: plastic furniture, linoleum Side 99
Ellroy, James – Big Nowhere, The floor, spangly pink wallpaper. Children squealed inside; Dudley winked and rang the buzzer.
A tall, unshaven man walked up to the screen, flanked by a toddler boy and girl. Dudley smiled; Mal watched the little boy pop a thumb in his mouth, and spoke first. “Mr. Kaukenen, we’re with the District Attorney’s Office and we’d like to talk to you. Alone, please.”
The kids pressed themselves into the man’s legs; Mal saw scared slant eyes–two little half-breeds spooked by two big boogeymen. Eisler/Kaukenen called out, “Michiko!”; a Japanese woman materialized and whisked the children away. Dudley opened the door uninvited; Eisler said, “You are three years late.”
Mal walked in behind Dudley, amazed at how cheap the place looked–a white trash flop–the home of a man who made three grand a week during the Depression. He heard the kids bawling behind wafer-thin walls; he wondered if Eisler had to put up with the same foreign language shit he did–then popped that he probably dug it on general Commie principles. Dudley said, “This is a charming house, Mr. Kaukenen. The color motif especially.”
Eisler/Kaukenen ignored the comment and pointed them to a door off the living room. Mal walked in and saw a small square space that looked warm and habitable: floor-to-ceiling books, chairs around an ornate coffee table and a large desk dominated by a class A typewriter. He took the seat furthest from the squeal of little voices; Dudley sat across from him. Eisler shut the door and said, “I am Nathan Eisler, as if you did not already know.”
Mal thought: no nice guy, no “I loved your picture _Branding Iron_.”
“Then you know why we’re here.”
Eisler locked the door and took the remaining chair. “The bitch is in heat again, despite reports that she had a miscarriage.”
Dudley said, “You are to tell no one that we questioned you. There will be dire repercussions should you disobey us on that.”
“Such as what, Herr–”
Mal cut in. “Mort Ziffkin, Chaz Minear, Reynolds Loftis and Claire De Haven. We’re interested in their activities, not yours. If you cooperate fully with us, we might be able to let you testify by deposition. No open court, probably very little publicity. You slid on HUAC, you’ll slide on this one.” He stopped and thought of Stefan, gone with his crazy mother and her new paramour.
“But we want hard facts. Names, dates, places and admissions. You cooperate, you slide. You don’t, it’s a subpoena and open court questioning by a DA I can only describe as a nightmare. Your choice.”
Eisler inched his chair away from them. Eyes lowered, he said, “I have not seen those people in years.”
Mal said, “We know, and it’s their _past_ activities that we’re interested in.”
“And they are the only people that you want to know about?”
Mal lied, thinking of Lenny Rolff. “Yes. Just them.”
“And what are these repercussions you speak of?”
Mal drummed the table. “Open court badgering. Your picture in the–”
Dudley interrupted, “Mr. Eisler, if you do not cooperate, I will inform Howard Hughes that you are authoring RKO films currently being credited to another man. That man, your conduit to gainful employment as a writer, will be terminated. I will also inform the INS that you refused to cooperate with a sanctioned municipal body investigating treason, and urge that their Investigations Bureau delve into your seditious activities with an eye toward your deportation as an enemy alien and the deportation of your wife and children as potential enemy aliens. You are a German and your wife is Japanese, and since those two nations were responsible for our recent world conflict, I would think that the INS would enjoy seeing the two of you returned to your respective homelands.”