The Pittsburgh Press (February 12, 1946)
Othman: The Pearl story
By Fred Othman
WASHINGTON – It pains me to report today that one of the most monumental books ever wrought by man, the record of Congress’ Pearl Harbor probe, is a literary floperoo.
The authors still are writing it and may get to the exciting part later. As of now it is 22 times longer than “Gone with the Wind” and (if I’m any critic) 22 times duller. It clocks in at 3,332,100 words, on 11,107 pages, in 58 volumes. The paper-backed edition, at 15 cents a page, sells for $5,666.05 a copy. This is no bargain. I’d rather buy a house.
Since the proceedings began in the Senate Caucus Room last November 15, it has been my custom to drop in every couple of weeks to see how the five senators, the five representatives, the lawyers, the gold braid boys, and the gents of the press are progressing. I don’t believe they’re getting anywhere, much.
The wretches with the black pencils scribbling accounts of the proceedings for their newspapers are rooting for the lawmakers to finish by Friday, but admit that’s wishful thinking. They have organized the East Wind Rain Survivors Association, named after the Jap code messages mentioned on almost every page of the book. They plan a binge on adjournment day. They deserve it.
Show’s not bad
For the occasional visitor, the show’s not bad. I hadn’t been in the room more than five minutes before the white hair of Sen. Homer Ferguson of Michigan began to look like an unmade bed. He was shouting at Navy Capt. Alwin Dalton Kramer, who shouted back at him.
The captain decoded Jap messages during the war, he couldn’t seem to remember the things that Sen. Ferguson wanted him to remember, and he was nervous. He pulled cigarettes of different flavors from two packages, tapped one so hard it sounded like a telegraph instrument, lit it, put it down and lit another.
He kept a small brass-bound suitcase (full of secret codes) on the table and he got into a series of arguments so involved with the senator that I have no idea what they were talking about. Stenographers in relays took down every word. Tomorrow they’ll be in Volume 59.
So everybody was fidgeting. My seat was getting harder by the minute, but I figured if I stuck I’d learn something. My vigil was rewarded. I learned about the Navy’s troubles keeping secrets secret.
Grades of secrecy
It has confidential documents. One step more confidential are its restricted papers. Still more confidential are the letters stamped “secret.” For real secrets, it has reported typed “Top Secret.”
This still is not secret enough for the Navy’s top-top secrets. “Go ahead, read it,” Sen. Ferguson ordered. “This red typing.”
“Top secret, ultra,” said Capt. Kramer, dousing one cigarette and lighting another.
“And what’s this thing?” Sen. Ferguson demanded, pointing at a £-symbol.
“That’s code,” Capt. Kramer said. “It is a pound-mark.”
“I know,” Sen. Ferguson said. “But what does it mean?”
“It means, London,” the captain replied.
“You mean, Great Britain?” the senator asked.
Capt. Kramer said, “Yes, sir.”
That’s a fair sample from Congress’ $5000 book. It’s not without interest, but I still claim it isn’t worth the money. I’d prefer a yacht, a mink overcoat, or a small place in the country.