He knew it was getting real when they went after his girlfriend. The law is like that. They hit you in your soft underbelly where it hurts the most. He’d half been expecting such a reaction, however. They’d gone after many of his friends and most of his co-workers. He’d long realized it would only be a matter of time. Just last week (wait – was it only a week ago) there’d been that really odd clicking noise on his phone. Tapped? Seriously? And, that black car parked across the street by the park, hadn’t that been in the same spot for days? The few as yet to be accused friends he still had left in this world were running from him as if he were a plague – totally understandable. He did not blame them. Finally, there was nothing left to do but leave. Maybe he’d go abroad, look up Charlie, see what was shaking. Maybe he could even sweet talk Delores into going with him. One thing was for sure. There was nothing left for him here. Everything he had worked for was gone. For him, this American dream he’d chased tirelessly had erupted into the great American nightmare. Rosebud, out.
No, this isn’t part of a James Bond movie or an excerpt from my future spy novel. It’s my supposition of what I think went on in Orson Welles’ head when he, as well as most artists/actors/writers in the late 40’s and 50’s, was accused of being a Communist and blacklisted by Senator McCarthy in his one man severe left-wing eradication attempt. After all, the paranoia was ripe for the picking. With WWII still a stinging memory, America was emotionally reeling. That proverbial other shoe was sure to drop at any moment. Our returned soldiers weren’t allowed to process emotional scarring from all they had witnessed. Our entire nation was suffering from anxiety born as much from the nutritional deficiencies of food rationing as it was from the ravages of a war. Sometimes you can’t see what you can’t see. McCarthy, however, saw clearly. This was his shot, his opportunity. Would he seize everything he ever wanted in one moment? Would he capture it or just let it slip away? Faster than you could say mom’s spaghetti on his sweater already, Joseph McCarthy decided his mark on history, his claim to fame, his megalomaniac moment, would happen by bringing a shell shocked country to its knees by invoking accusations of the only thing worse than a satanic comparison. COMMUNISM. And, boy, did he shine.
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