Lawyers & Flacks Made Goldfine a Production

"YOU WILL BE GREAT!!"

PRINTED in block letters with bright red grease pencil at the top of the first page of the statement read last week by Bernard Goldfine to the House Special Subcommittee on Legislative Oversight were the encouraging words "YOU WILL BE GREAT!!" Author of the inspirational message: Manhattan Pressagent (and TV Performer) John Reagan ("Tex") McCrary Jr. Coauthor: Washington Lawyer Roger Robb If nothing else, the words reminded Goldfine that he had behind him one of the gaudiest retinues of lawyers and flacks in the whole history of congressional investigations. This is how the retinue operated -- and what it did for and to Bernard Goldfine:

The basic facts and figures of Goldfine's cobrful life and complex business dealings were assembled by Boston Lawyer Lawrence Cohen and New York Lawyer Lester Lazarus, both Goldfine regulars. The information was polished in statement form by 1) Boston Lawyer Samuel Sears, dropped in 1954 as counsel to the Senate subcommittee investigating the Army-McCarthy fracas after it was discovered that he had made statements highly favorable to McCarthy, and 2) Washington's Robb. attorney for ousted Air Force Secretary Harold Talbott, for ousted Federal Communications Commissioner Richard Mack, and Government attorney in the successful 1954 ouster action against Atomic Physicist J. Robert Oppenheimer. Also helping write the statement was Sol Gelb, onetime assistant to New York District Attorney Thomas E. Dewey, and latter-day attorney for Teamsters Boss Jimmy Hoffa. Gelb, an expert at crossexamination, spent hours shooting at Goldfine the sort of questions the House subcommittee might ask.

"No Fee -- For Free." It was Lawyer Robb who laid down the major strategic lines: 1) make Goldfine appear as a simple, innocent, underdog type being persecuted by a powerful congressional subcommittee, and 2) permit Goldfine to answer only those questions that related, directly and demonstrably, to his relationships with the Federal Trade Commission, the Securities and Exchange Commission, and Sherman Adams. On paper, the plans looked good -- at least to their authors. In practice, they exploded in some wildly improbable directions.

First off, onto the scene hove Tex McCrary, husband of sometime Actress-Model Jinx Falkenburg, and a money-making operator who shrewdly combines his TV-radio work with his publicity business. Tex already had sent one of his vice presidents, William Safire, to Boston for a three-hour interview with Goldfine to get "the feel" of his personality. In Washington, McCrary allowed that as an old Sherman Adams friend he had come at the beck of Lawyer Robb to help Goldfine on a basis of "no expenses, no fee -- for free."

McCrary put Goldfine through his paces on the prepared statement. While Goldfine read, McCrary "scored" the script, underlining with his red pencil the words that were to be "punched," i.e., emphasized; in the hearing Goldfine merely yelled every time he came to such a place. McCrary also noted that Goldfine's voice tended to crack every few minutes. At strategic intervals, therefore, McCrary wrote into the script the words: "Glass of water." (In the hearing room there were no glasses, only floppy paper cups.) Again, McCrary inserted stage directions telling Goldfine when it was time to produce props for the subcommittee. Example: a gold Le Coultre wristwatch he received in 1953 as a present from Sherman Adams--a singularly unfortunate choice, since Goldfine had long made a habit of producing the watch (inscribed "S.A. to B.G.") to impress strangers, including those with whom he was having business dealings.

The night before Goldfine was to appear before the subcommittee, in Room 805 in Washington's sedate Sheraton-Carlton, he recorded and filmed parts of his statement for radio and television, with McCrary on hand to yell "Take One," "Take Two" and "Take Three." The Goldfine statement was released for seven o'clock the next morning, three hours before he was to testify--a fact which infuriated the subcommittee because it 1) was impertinent and improper, and 2) beat the subcommittee to the early headlines.

"Don't Talk, Not a Word." That night in the Sheraton-Carlton, Goldfine's handlers again put him before television cameras--with trimmings. Newsmen were invited to the hotel, where liquor and caviar were waiting (Goldfine picked up the tab, but he and his lawyers declined to say if it would be written off on his tax returns). Goldfine was nearly an hour late, so Publicist McCrary presided, still explaining that he was not going to make a red cent out of his efforts (next day, McCrary withdrew from the Goldfine team). Finally, Goldfine entered the steaming room, along with his wife and son Horace, 36.

McCrary ran Goldfine through a voice test of a statement prepared for radio and television. Then reporters tried to ask questions. "Wait a minute," roared Lawyer Sam Sears, an unlit cigarette dangling as always from a corner of his mouth. "Don't talk. Not a word." Goldfine stood silent, looking embarrassed. A reporter got scolded by Sears for insisting on questions. Snapped the reporter: "I'll say what I damn please." Then Goldfine read his statement for the actual filming (Tex McCrary had neglected to remove an empty highball glass and a used Old-Fashioned from the table). Goldfine muffed his lines, had to try again. "A little smile," urged son Horace. Goldfine smiled--a little.

When Goldfine finished, reporters tried again. Began one: "Why wouldn't you . . ." Up jumped Horace, crying: "He's playing games. He's trying to get you to talk." Asked a newsman: "Where did you get those rosy cheeks?" That was one Goldfine could answer: "I do a lot of walking." That was enough for Sam Sears: out the door went Goldfine. Was he afraid to let Goldfine talk? Growled he: "Not a damn bit." And from down the hall, past his doggedly trailing retinue, came Bernard Goldfine's last word: "Goodbye."

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