“The execution protocol is precise: an initial 2,000-volt shock for 3 seconds, dropping to 500 volts for 57 seconds, back to 2,000 volts, to 500 for another 57 seconds, and then to 2,000 for a final few seconds. Three jolts in all. The intermissions are to prevent the surge of electrical energy from cooking the flesh. As it is, body temperature reaches about 130 degrees, roughly the lukewarmness of rare roast beef. The temperature of the brain rises almost to the boiling point of water. Wisps of blue-gray smoke curl from the leather face mask. The mask is worn not as a convenience to the condemned but as a palliative for the witnesses. It prevents the eyes from popping out of the head…”
- Sam Roberts, The Brother: The Untold Story of the Rosenberg Case
“It was a queer sultry summer, the summer they electrocuted the Rosenbergs,” Esther Greenwood says at the beginning of Sylvia Plath’s The Bell Jar. “I’m stupid about executions,” she continues, “and that’s all there was to read about in the papers – goggle-eyed headlines staring up at me on every street corner and at the fusty, peanut-smelling mouth of every subway.”
This famous opening perfectly describes the way the executions of Julius and Ethel Rosenberg grimly captured the attention of a nation. When they died, on June 19, 1953, we were at the height of the Cold War, the Soviets had the Bomb, and Americans were fighting Communists in Korea. It was not a good time to be convicted of having passed nuclear-related intelligence to the U.S.S.R.
I’m a relative latecomer to this topic. Indeed, Sam Roberts’s The Brother is the first book I’ve read on the Rosenbergs, and it is good enough to be my last. It is up-to-date, it is comprehensive, and it is a propulsive read, even at 517 pages of text. From its tense opening – describing the last days of Julius and Ethel Rosenberg in Sing Sing Prison – to the late reveals and confessions, The Brother is hard to put down, and harder to forget.
Roberts’s tale encompasses paranoia, hysteria, and overreactions. It is also about betrayals, to one’s country, one’s family, and one’s friends. By the time Roberts has finished his excavations, you will be asking hard questions about loyalty.
***
The first thing to note – and it is important – is that The Brother was first released in 2001. Since that time, a lot has happened with regard to the Rosenberg case. Recognizing this, The Brother was reissued in 2014 with a new epilogue. Though it somehow manages a grammatical miscue on its very last line, this epilogue – and thus, this version of the book – is absolutely necessary, bolstering some of Roberts’s original contentions, but altering others.
***
The Brother of the title refers to David Greenglass, sibling of Ethel, brother-in-law to Julius. At first glance, it might seem an oblique way of taking on the Rosenberg case. The central participants are moved to the periphery, while David takes center stage. The story is told largely from his perspective. It works because David is a fascinating, complicated figure. A man who is at once both cowardly and bold, candid and deceiving; a man who has clearly constructed a story that lets him live with himself.
During World War II, David was an enlisted man serving as a machinist at Los Alamos, part of the Manhattan Project that developed the atomic bomb. David and his wife, Ruth, were recruited by a Soviet agent, and began passing intelligence to a courier named Harry Gold. The value of this intelligence is debatable, but David definitely passed on crude drawings of the Fat Man implosion device.
After the war, and in the wake of spy Klaus Fuchs’s arrest, the FBI began investigating Los Alamos leaks, and ended up arresting David. In a desperate attempt to protect his wife, he sang a song of treason that implicated his sister and brother-in-law. It is a decision that David seems rather unapologetic about, and would make an excellent case study in situational ethics.
***
The backbone of The Brother comes from Roberts’s interviews with David. Roberts tracked him down – a rather extensive effort he describes towards the end – and spoke with him for some 50 hours. He attempts to corroborate David’s story whenever possible, and he lets you know when he could not. It’s a tall task as David is the embodiment of the Liar’s Dilemma, living cocooned in a dense web of deceits, half-truths, and prevarications.
At almost every step along the path, Roberts had to shine light into dark corners, where time and deception had gathered to obscure truth. Tracking down David Greenglass is a coup unto itself, but his commendable investigatory efforts go beyond that. He accumulates a mass of primary source material, which includes getting Morton Sobell to confess to spying, and suing the Federal Government for the grand jury testimony.
A lot of work went into this, long before Roberts typed the first word. Nevertheless, after all this detective work, he still delivers a well-paced, gripping narrative. In particular, Roberts meticulously recounts the Rosenberg’s legal case, noting important evidence (including grand jury testimony) that never made it before the jury. I thought the descriptions of the trial among the book’s best sections, and appreciated that Roberts made generous use of the actual transcripts. He also gives a deft characterization of Judge Irving Kaufman, the Red-hating black robe who sent the Rosenbergs to the chair (and might have cost himself a seat on the Supreme Court in doing so).
***
Even today, most aspects of the Rosenberg case are controversial. Despite being relatively well-read in historical topics, I’ve somehow missed decades of passionate debate. To that end, Roberts does a really good job of explaining all the points of controversy, presenting the evidence, and formulating judicious opinions. His conclusions are restrained and reflective of the complexity of the Rosenbergs, the Greenglasses, and the world in which they lived.
Perhaps I would have had a different reaction to this if I had already formed a strong opinion, but I don’t think so. Life is seldom a binary situation of good and evil, black and white. Most of the time, it’s not even gray. Rather, it’s a combination of every color, much like when my kids mix all the separate canisters of Play-Doh into one inseparable ball.
***
In coming to a conclusion about David Greenglass, Ethel Rosenberg, Julius Rosenberg, and the electric chair at Sing Sing, we must grapple with several different, sometimes contradictory realities.
First, there is a profound moral dimension to spying for another country. That is especially true of a person spying for the Soviet Union in the years following the Second World War. There are a lot of fair criticisms to be leveled at the United States for its behavior during the Cold War. But the Soviet Union – especially under Joseph Stalin – was a murderous, quasi-criminal regime that killed, imprisoned, and enslaved millions of people. Even if we attribute the initial decision to idealism, sticking with Stalin after the famines, after the purges, after the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact, and after the Iron Curtain is not naivety. It is mendacity.
Second, it has been satisfactorily proven that Julius Rosenberg was a spy. Declassified Soviet cables, codenamed VENONA, revealed him as a courier and recruiter. One of his codefendants, Morton Sobell, also used the occasion of his 91st birthday to reveal his guilt and implicate Julius. It’s unclear whether Julius actually passed on any atomic secrets to the Soviets, but he certainly gave them a top secret proximity fuse that was later used in surface-to-air-missiles that killed American pilots in Korea.
As to Ethel, the VENONA decrypts tend to show that she also participated in espionage activities, helping to recruit her brother in the first place. However, there was no evidence – other than David’s and Ruth’s contradictory stories, which he later recanted – that she ever helped in furtherance of any conspiracy. Ultimately, it stretches credulity to believe she did not know of her husband’s activities, and in light of Julius’s factual guilt, the contemporary protestations of innocence by both husband and wife are diminished.
Finally, points one and two do not mean that the Rosenbergs got a fair trial, or that their punishment – electrocuted to death – was merited. Clearly, the government’s case was grossly mishandled, likely because they were trying to convict the couple without their best evidence, which they could not reveal.
Had the Rosenbergs been caught in the Soviet Union spying for the United States, they would have been given a show trial, denied an appeal, and then likely shot in the back of the neck in the basement of the Lubyanka. This reality makes the United States look worse, not better. If the Cold War was a battle of principles, with ideas largely – though not always – displaying actual force, then this was a grand opportunity to show restraint, mercy, and compassion. Instead, the executive branch and the judicial branch both decided to play at their opponent’s level, discrediting themselves in the process.
***
Throughout The Brother, Roberts excels at demonstrating how opposite things can be true. How David can be a craven liar, yet oddly principled in his fashion. How Julius could be guilty of treason, yet be failed by the justice system. How a country can be committed to certain lofty values, yet lose their grip on them in the midst of fear and uncertainty, learning far too late that righteousness lost can never be regained.