"The Hopkins Letter"

So rare in high political places was this particular sort of sensation that Washington had almost forgotten the name for it. The last notable roorback* in U.S. history had been the forgery of a James A. Garfield letter in 1880. Last week as a Washington grand jury pursued its investigation it was clear to everybody that "The Hopkins Letter" was indeed a roorback. But a fascinated nation still wondered who wrote it. And why?

Tiny, trim, hatchet-faced C. Nelson Sparks had published the letter because he thought it proved that "Mr. Willkie is close to the New Deal. . . . Willkie is just a stooge. . . ." Also, the letter added sales value to his book, One Man --Wendell Willkie, in which it appeared.

"Dear Umphrey," the letter ran, "What has been done in the Alamo matter? Will you write me, please. What developments in the other situation? Willkie is going to be the man, in my opinion, and I can promise you good cooperation from that quarter if you think it would be helpful." It was typewritten on White House stationery, dated August 17, 1943, and signed "Harry Hopkins" in ink. Sparks said it meant that Hopkins wanted Willkie to get the Republican Presidential nomination.

The book had scarcely appeared before Harry Hopkins denounced the letter as a forgery. On second thought he set the FBI asleuthing. Republican Senator Wil liam Langer of North Dakota thought the Senate ought to investigate, too. He said he wanted to find out if Hopkins was "now dabbling in Republican politics." He made a 57-page speech in the Senate, illustrating it with photostats of letters Sparks had given to him. These were let ters between Sparks and a man named George N. Briggs. If they were genuine, they indicated that Briggs had given Sparks "The Hopkins Letter." Who Was Briggs? He was a fat-faced little man of 57 with a nice big house in the country and reputed money troubles.

He was also a $5,600-a-year assistant to Secretary Harold L. Ickes. He earned his pay mainly by giving a polish to Ickes' literary style -- touching up the boss's let ters and speeches. Briggs told the press: "I don't know who is back of this or where it is leading, but I think Langer is getting into a pretty tight spot." The letters Langer held suggested that Briggs had got "The Hopkins Letter" from Ickes. The "Umphrey" of "The Hopkins Letter," it appeared, was Dr. Umphrey Lee, president of Southern Methodist University in Dallas. Dr. Lee was supposed to have shown the letter to Frank Phillips, an Oklahoma oilman, who took the letter to Ickes.

All these men had dates in Washington with the grand jury. Said Dr. Lee to the press: he never saw the letter, did not know Harry Hopkins, had no interest in politics. "I don't know Mr. Phillips, Mr. Briggs, nor Mr. Ickes," he added. Said Oilman Phillips: "I don't know Briggs and never heard of the letter. ... I haven't the slightest idea of what it's all about. . . . I'm just a country boy. . . ." Said Ickes: "I do know Mr. Briggs but I do not know Mr. Sparks. I do not know Dr. Umphrey Lee. ... I know nothing whatsoever. ... I doubt if I can shed any light. . . ."

The Attorney General's special assistant in charge of the grand jury investigation, Henry A. Schweinhaut, announced flatly: "A definite forgery." But "The Hopkins Letter," he said, was a forgery on genuine White House stationery. White House stationery was found to be available in the Department of the Interior's offices.

Secretary Ickes, after conferring with Investigator Schweinhaut, suspended Briggs without pay. Same day, Department of Justice agents carried off a couple of Interior typewriters.

Next day Ickes announced that Briggs had vanished. Ickes, who had recently broken his collarbone, appeared before the grand jury, tieless, open-collared, his right arm in a sling. He talked for almost an hour. He had just come from a 50-minute talk with the President. The Department of Justice announced tersely that Briggs was still available to them.

The Clue of the Crowded Commas. Next day belonged to Sparks and "The Clue of the Crowded Commas." "The Hopkins Letter" and letters allegedly written by Briggs turned out to share a typescript peculiarity: there was no space between the commas and the first letters of the words immediately following. Sparks popped up in the Senate Press Gallery, handed reporters a 20-page statement about his relations with Briggs, and gave an interview. He had already been before the grand jury. He admitted that all he had ever had in the way of proof of "The Hopkins Letter's" authenticity was the word of George Briggs.

Harry Hopkins, wretchedly ill, appeared before the grand jury next day, stayed ten minutes, returned directly to the Bethesda, Md. Naval Hospital. Briggs sent a wire to the Department of Justice announcing that he would reappear in three days. The wire was sent from New York City.

He did reappear swearing he would not "be thrown to the wolves." The grand jury gave him half an hour. Briggs later told reporters: "So this is my first taste of power politics. I'll have to acquire a taste for it, like olives."

By what roads had Sparks, Briggs, and the Secretary of the Interior come to this imbroglio? Sparks, once mayor of Akron, had managed Frank E. Gannett's 1939-40 Presidential campaign. Briggs, once a newspaperman, later a political "dopester" for a handful of Minnesota business firms, handled the northern midwest area of the Gannett campaign under Sparks. When Gannett lost, Briggs changed camps. He became a pal of the Democrats. Ickes, asked by reporters last week if the story was true that he had met Briggs through Chicago's Mayor Ed Kelly, replied: "I'll ask to be excused from answering that question."

But clarity was coming fast. Clarity, perhaps, even on that "Alamo" thing. Now what was that?

Senator Langer claimed he knew. Said he: it was a code word for an Administration move to back Dr. Umphrey Lee for the Senate.

Sparks only muttered: "Alamo, Alamo, that's the $64 question. I don't know what it means."

Swore Ickes: "I really played with that thing and I just don't get it. It's crazy."

*Webster: "A defamatory falsehood published for political effect." The word was coined after "excerpts" from a non-existent Travels of Baron Roorback were published in 1844 to discredit James K. Polk.

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