Months before, Julie Garfield had testified as I intended to, not offering names, defying the committee. Immediately well-wishers, whose number included his agents and others who had a financial stake in his well-being, were at his side to advise him that if he maintained the position he’d taken, his career in films was over. The studio heads already were afraid to employ him, and a star was becoming an unemployed actor. When I saw Julie, the impression I had was that he’d begun to look seedy and to wonder what was most important in his life. He turned to a lawyer, Louis Nizer, for advice, and I suspected that Julie’s feelings were shifting to a more “reasonable” position. His wife, Roberta, had hints of Julie’s evolving change of heart and disapproved of it. Julie told me that he was now uncomfortable in his own home, that his living room was always full of people who were scornful of him—friends of his wife. He said that when he came home he didn’t feel welcomed. He hadn’t done anything overt, but the left was alert and quick to condemn.