Whittaker

“For you will be a witness for him to everyone of what you have seen and heard.” Acts 22:15 ESV

It was no joke, that on April 1st, 1901, Jay Vivian Chambers was born in Philadelphia on a cold early morning with snow blanketing the ground; a blizzard was soon to come. Weighing 12 pounds and measuring 12 inches across the shoulders, his birth nearly killed his mother Laha. An artery was torn and baby Jay had to be removed with instruments. It was sad but fitting that Jay was born in this fashion, difficult and dangerous; his birth would serve as a type of foreboding for the remainder of his life. He was an abnormally large newborn, and he’d grow to live an abnormally large life.

Young Jay was named after his father, Jay Chambers. His middle name, Vivian, was the last name of one of his mother’s lifelong friends. As a child and young adult, he despised his first and middle names and vowed to change them as soon as he was able. While he didn’t know it at the time, he would live to have multiple first and last names, most of them assigned to him. Eventually, Jay would take his mother’s maiden name for his first and keep his father’s surname, going by who the world now knows him as: Whittaker Chambers.

Young Whittaker grew up in Lynbrook, New York. His family moved there in 1904 just after Whittaker’s little brother Richard was born. As Whittaker became a child and began to understand and compare his world with that of others, he became keenly aware of the dysfunction that he was continually surrounded by. Both of his parents, Jay and Laha, came from the world of art as they were both thespians in their younger life. They loved the stage and continued to act even after having their two boys - more so Jay as He was truly an artist and viewed himself as much. He didn’t care for the comforts of a middle class family. This was made apparent by withholding any money for his wife to beautify or to just repair their humble home. Nor did he pay any attention to his son’s overall health. Both Richard and Whittaker often suffered tooth aches to no relief from a dentist. As Jay submerged himself in his work as an artist for the local paper and took a liking for the opera and all things “culture,” he became completely absent from the family. He would come home in the middle hours of the night, almost always drunk. For this and many other reasons, young Whittaker regrettably but honestly lacked any respect for his father (p. 142).

Jay’s absence and lack of engagement made Laha become Whittaker’s favorite parent, even if it was by default. Their shared sentiments regarding Jay drew them into a close relationship. But Laha struggled with her own demons. She became dependent upon her young boys and could be described as acting somewhat neurotic at times. For some reason she felt the need to frequently remind Whittaker of how much pain his delivery had caused her. Understandably, he resented this. Yet despite all of her faults and problems, Laha loved her two boys, and they became her life and her world. The small family even tried attending an Episcopalian Church for a time. But without reason the boys were suspected of passing the whooping cough to another attendant. That ended their three month trial. As such religion played no part in their home. Whittaker would later write, “What I knew as a child about religion, I did not know as the result of any instruction. I knew it as a result of something I heard by chance, or that happened to me, and that touched something that was already in me” (p. 116).

Whittaker might not have needed religious education, but he would need all the hope and grounding he could get because the tenuous marriage of his parents rapidly dissolved when Whittaker and Richard were still young. Jay had his own life outside his family and simply solidified this by moving out. He would send the family eight dollars a week, on which at the time Laha and her two boys managed fairly well. But Whittaker knew they were poor and would understand later that Jay could have given more in alimony, seeing as he had a steady and relatively good paying job. The good part of Whittaker’s father being gone was that their home became a much happier place. His father’s absence at home lightened the usually oppressive atmosphere.

But it wasn’t long before Jay had moved out that Grandma Whittaker would move in. And she was anything but a calming presence in their house. With early dementia, Grandma Whittaker would lock herself in her room and light little fires “cooking” something. The family learned to disregard her insistent self ramblings as well as the smell of smoke coming from her room. There were several times when Whittaker, being the largest in the family, would have to intervene, whether it was breaking down a door to see what was aflame or wrestling scissors or knives from her clinched fists, Grandma being at the house, in addition to the old tensions, was like having a demoniac presence sitting in the heart of their home (p. 169). Whittaker would later write, “I suppose nobody ever sleeps quite peacefully in a house where a woman sometimes wanders around with a knife” (p. 170).

While Whittaker seemed to take the brunt of all this abnormality, the weight was surely shared by both brothers. Living under the same roof caused Whittaker and Richard to become very close even though they were growing up to be quite different men. Richard was good with his hands and worked with them often. He ended up building a guesthouse on their property that he would soon move into as a young adult. He was more outspoken, expressed more emotion, and soon became Laha’s favorite son as it was natural for him to confide in her, something she desperately craved. Yet as he neared his late teenage years, Richard began to find solace from his pitiful life in drinking more prohibition whiskey than he clearly ought. By the time he was twenty, he could be found drunk in the early hours of the day. Whittaker on the other hand was more cerebral, immersing himself into books and self reflection, guarding and keeping his thoughts almost entirely to himself.

In the fall of 1920, Whittaker enrolled at Columbia College (p.164). Upon attending, he took the opportunity to finally rid himself of the name Vivian to officially take his mother’s maiden name, Whittaker. And although he was already abreast of the communist movement, it was here that he began reading more of its happenings and was encouraged by others to delve deeper into the social, economic, and political world of Marxism. Here, Whittaker’s skills and talent with writing, reading, and translating the languages was noticed among his peers and professors. Many thought he’d become a novelist or major poet. Indeed Whittaker did write, among his works was a short play titled “A Play for Puppets.” It was featured in Columbia's literary magazine. But the atheistic nature of the playlet caused controversy among the school and even spread to the New York City newspaper. Whittaker was disheartened and came to dislike Columbia. Although it wasn’t his first choice of colleges, it allowed him to live at home and save the family from paying boarding fees. Choosing to live at home rather than live at a dorm not only saved the family money, but in a sense, saved the family, or what was left of it, if only for a short time.

In the two years Whittaker attended college, Richard found himself further down the road of self destruction, continually drinking with self-absorbed unhappiness. One night at a bar with his friends and brother, Richard became so belligerent he began cursing aloud himself and his parents for ruining not only their own lives but his life as well. The sober Whittaker took offense at the remarks and with the bar tender’s approval, threw a tumbler of whiskey at Richard’s face. The two brothers fought in the bar and throughout the night. Whittaker, although larger but not as scrappy, finally went to bed bleeding from the bridge of his nose. The scar Richard left him would remain with Whittaker for the remainder of his life. It was a sort of going away gift as Richard was soon to leave.

Within a year’s time Richard would take his life. He was found in his kitchen one morning with his head resting on a pillow inside the gas oven, his feet propped up on a pile of books with a bottle of whiskey just below his rigid fingers. Whittaker, although in shock from seeing his brother and best friend cold and lifeless, was not surprised. Richard had tried this multiple times before without success only because of his older brother’s intervention. It was only a matter of time. Not long after Whittaker removed his brother from his house and had him buried, he received a call from Laha informing him that his father Jay had passed away. His mother said that Jay “had simply dropped dead in the bathroom as he prepared to shave.”

Whittaker was 22 years old and his small world, as broken and fragile as it was, had mostly died, and what was left was dying. His mother was withering away from grief and His grandmother was clinically insane. Whittaker was convinced that the death surrounding him and the many pains that preceded it was a just microcosm of the world at large. World War One had just ended three years before claiming twenty-two million lives. The Bolshevik revolution in Russia was nearing its end, having murdered tens of millions and served as Communism’s catalyst to spread across the globe. Revolutions were happening as were epidemics. The Spanish flu was in full swing and would kill fifty million people before it ended, not to mention smallpox that would end up taking many more than that.

Much of what Whittaker intimately knew was poverty, neglect, alcoholism, and dysfunction. And at the time, the world seemed to reflect that stark reality. Yes, “The world was dying of its own vulgarity, stupidity, complacency, inhumanity, power and materialism - a death of the spirit….That this world was dying both brothers knew” (p. 185). “But they differed on how to face the fact. Richard had simply removed himself from what he found unsolvable or unworthy to be solved. He had made his choice (p. 186-187) and so would Whittaker. But whereas Richard succumbed to the world’s cancer of wars, economic crises, and moral enervation, finding nothing to live for, Whittaker committed to become the cure, having found something to die for. By the time his brother and father expired, Whittaker was already a member in the Communist Party. But now he became an unreconcilable Communist in both body and spirit. Not because he was simply attracted to it, but was driven to it from despair by the crisis of history through which the world passing” (p.191).

Whittaker was at a loss. And he felt helpless; God was not in control, not in control of his circumstances, nor his brother’s. God wasn’t in control of the wars and revolutions, nor the epidemics of diseases spreading across the globe. If God could not or would not solve the problems plaguing mankind, then mankind had no choice but to assume the throne. Whittaker would write that “Communism restores to man his sovereignty by the simple method of denying God” (p. 10). But although Whittaker was about to plunge deep and long into a world view that not only denies God, but seeks to eradicate any trace of him, God would not deny Whittaker. Rather, God would pursue him!

Whittaker was now in his early 50s and was now a counter-revolutionist testifying against Communism. What had once given him a reason to live had now become evil and now risked taking his life. Whittaker, in the midst of deadly consequences from without and emotional turmoil from within, was presently shining an unwanted light on not only his past affairs working for the Soviet’s secret military intelligence but many others who were still working within the United States Government. After twenty five years, Whittaker would look back on his time as a communist.

In those beginning years, soon after Richard’s suicide, Whittaker’s ability with writing and editing were quickly put to use for the Communist Party, specifically “Class-angling." This was the art of rewriting news stories with a communist interpretation. That was just the beginning though. Whittaker’s proficiency and devotion to Communism exceeded simply working for the Party and being shuffled around to and from various Socialist presses, producing pamphlets, magazines, and any other forms of literary propaganda. He had more services to offer, and others lying in wait had taken notice. And within a short time, Chambers was recruited to join the "Communist underground.”

Accepting it as his solemn duty, Whittaker was now a spy working to overthrow the U.S. government on behalf of Stalin’s Soviet Union in the military intelligence agency - the GRU. After serving under various controllers, taking assorted identities, holding numerous job titles, and only living in places for short periods, Whittaker finally came under the direction of Harold Ware, a member of the Washington spy apparatus. Ware was an agricultural engineer and was employed by the federal New Deal while covertly leading a group of about 75 operatives within the U.S. government. It was in this place and time that Chambers became close to Alger Hiss. Hiss was a fellow communist spy and like Ware, served within the higher echelons of the Washington establishment. He was a government attorney, served in the New Deal, the Justice Department, and would later even serve in the U.S. delegation to attend the famous Yalta Conference where Roosevelt, Stalin, and Churchill met to negotiate the terms for the end of the War. Circumstances had Whittaker and Alger in close contact. Living together for a time, their families shared a rare type of intimacy, that kind that could only be relegated to secrecy and truly understood by the life of a spy. From the plenty of people that came in and out of Whittaker’s life within his service as a Russian asset, Chambers would later confess that “Mr. Hiss had become his closest friend” (p. 694).

By now, Whittaker was in the thick of his espionage activity, but his concerns with taking orders from the Soviet Union were growing. At first he was specifically disillusioned with Stalin’s personal perversion by turning to Fascism. But shortly after that, Whittaker came to see that it wasn’t Stalin he was concerned with but Communism itself. He would later write, “The point was not that Stalin is evil, but that Communism is more evil, and that, acting through his person, it found its supremely logical manifestation. The important point was not the character of Stalin, but the character of Communism…”( p. 249).

Through Whittaker’s marriage to his wife, Esther, in the early 30s and the births of their two children afterwards, (both events which were unofficially frowned upon by the Party), God was slowly but steadily convicting Whittaker not only of the evils of Communism but the joy and grace that can only be had in a life surrendered to Himself. God was calling Whittaker to come forth. And it wasn’t until 1937, until he first began to feel like Lazarus, a man making “the impossible return,” climbing from the deep underground into the realm of the living. And within a year’s time, in April of 1938, Whittaker and his wife, made that final decision, the only possible choice: they’d rather die than live under Communism. It would be all sorts of hell that they would have to endure. Whittaker faced the threat of physical death for defecting from anybody at anytime, but it was the emotional turmoil he suffered that was just as troubling. In times of weakness and unbearable stress, it was as if Whittaker’s brother were calling from the ground to join him. But through all the pain and all the trials, nothing made the couple regret their decision (p.25). Chambers finally and officially broke with Communism and took his wife and two children into hiding. But Whittaker did not break from Communism just to remain quiet but to eventually fight against it.

In April of 1939, almost one year exactly from leaving the Soviet underground, Whittaker came out of hiding to go work for Time. His actions against Communism were going to be slow and methodical, and his new job allowed those two maneuvers. He began at Time as a nobody; a third-string book reviewer making an annual five thousand dollars and quickly rose to senior editor making thirty thousand. Never once did he ask for a raise. As a well-trained former Communist, Whittaker never really knew or cared how much he made. Nearly 10 years later he resigned as one of the best known writer-editors from Time because the court case he was in “had reached a crisis” (p. 86). Looking back, Whittaker would write, “My debt and my gratitude to Time cannot be measured. At a critical moment, Time gave me back my life. It gave me my voice. It gave me sanctuary, professional respect, peace and time in which to mature my changed view of the world and man’s destiny, and mine, it it. I went to Time a fugitive; I left a citizen. In my years with it, I became a Quaker and took my wife and children with me into the spiritual peace of the meeting” (p. 87-88). And Whittaker would need a reservoir of peace for the long battle ahead.

Soon after leaving Time, on August 3, 1948, Chambers was called to testify before the House on the Un-American Activities Committee. It was here where he gave witness to the names to all those he knew inside the underground Ware group. This undoubtedly included his once good friend, Alger Hiss. It caused Whittaker, the disheveled and portly witness, much anguish to have to testify against him. His statements didn’t accuse Alger of espionage activity but straightly claimed that he was or at least had been a member of the Communist Party. But the buttoned-up and good-looking Hiss flatly rejected any allegations that he had ever been a Communist and claimed no knowledge as to who Chambers was. The long trials that pursued would be called the “Hiss Trials.” These were some of Whittaker’s worst years of defection. By now, he was thankful to not really worry about being snuffed out by an unknown assassin, and he remained grateful for his work at Time where he gained respect and a bit of editorial notoriety. But coming before the United States Government to confess his past, and having to charge others, specifically his friend Alger, of secret allegiance to Soviet Russia bore down on his body and his soul.

In the beginning, the majority of people just couldn’t believe that the U.S. government had been infiltrated to such an extent. And on the surface Hiss was likable, believable, and had a mirror-finish education and career. Whittaker on the other hand looked tired and depressed and his accusations too far fetched. President Truman straightforwardly dismissed Whittaker’s testimony as a “Red Herring.” He surely didn’t like the allegation that the man responsible for the United Nations Charter Conference was a Communist. But Whittaker simply knew too many intimate details about Alger that couldn’t be easily ignored. Yet, without evidence, the first trial ended in 1949 with the jury deadlocked.

Meanwhile, Hiss’s attorneys referred to Whittaker as an “enemy of the Republic, a blasphemer of Christ, and a disbeliever in God.” This was ironic, since it was due to Whittaker’s hope to save the Republic and trust in God that he was testifying. Regardless, the defense also put on a psychiatrist who pointed out Chamber’s childhood, characterizing him as a sort of psychopath whose only nature was to lie. But the evidence finally produced by Chambers in the second trial was undeniable. Under subpoena, Whittaker presented four handwritten notes composed by Hiss: 65 State Department documents, and 4 strips of microfilm that had once been hidden inside a hollowed-out pumpkin. These papers and microfilm became known as the “pumpkin papers.” The reason for the delay in producing the evidence was by Whittaker’s account, “to spare an old friend from more trouble than necessary.” But even though Whittaker tried to guard his old friend, the evidence was not as gracious. And eventually, in 1950, when the second trial had reached its conclusion, Hiss was found guilty on two counts of perjury, being sentenced to five years in prison. He couldn’t be charged with espionage because the statute of limitations for such a crime was only five years.

The whole ordeal was unpleasant to say the least. The international attention, the constant personal attacks, and the character assassination left Whittaker troubled, saddened, and took a brutal toll on his overall health. He had been suffering from heart problems for over 10 years now. But although the court case was conclusively over, and the smoke had settled, Whittaker had much more to say, unencumbered by interruptions from attorneys and groans from the crowds. He would do what he knew best: Write his account, his life story, why and how he became a Communist, and why he defected. He would explain everything in vivid detail in his eight hundred page autobiography aptly titled: Witness. In 1952 Chambers published his work to widespread acclaim. The book was a bestseller for nearly a year, which helped to pay some of the legal debts that had been growing. But, as an Ex-Communist and now a Quaker, money meant little to Whittaker, whereas honesty and honor meant everything.

His autobiography served to make the record straight. It laid to rest the suggestion that he fabricated anything in his testimony. But Witness wasn’t just written as a counter revolutionist’s hope to win over his enemies, but as a father gently explaining his complex life to his two children, who were too young to understand all the drama swirling around them and their father. As such, Whittaker bore his soul for all to see that Communism and Freedom were the two irreconcilable faiths of his time. To Whittaker, a Witness against Communism was a Witness for God. And that calling to witness in every sense of it became Whittaker’s cross to bear. He would explain this to his son and daughter in the introduction of autobiography:

“My children, when you were little, we used sometimes to go for walks in our pine woods. In the open fields, you would run along by yourselves. But you used instinctively … give me your hands as we entered those woods, where it was darker, lonelier, and in the stillness our voices sounded loud and frightening. In this book I am again giving you my hands. I am leading you, not through cool pinewoods, but up and up a narrow defile between bare and steep rocks from which, in shadow, things uncoil and slither away. It will be dark. But, in the end, if I have led you aright, you will make out three crosses, from two of which hang thieves. I will have brought you to Golgotha— the place of skulls. This is the meaning of the journey. Before you understand, I may not be there; my hands maybe have slipped from yours. It will not matter. For when you understand what you see, you will no longer be children. You will know that life is pain, that each of us hangs always upon the cross of himself. And when you know that this is true of every man, woman, and child on earth, you will be wise” (p. 21).

Nine years after, on July 9, 1961, Whittaker died of a heart attack at his 300-acre farm in Westminster, Maryland. Having said his peace, he left his wife and children the life he had always wanted and a Witness the world could never ignore.

Micah Coate, President and Host of Salvation and Stuff

To enjoy this in a Podcast go here: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/salvation-and-stuff/id1492371560?i=1000508698349

Works Cited: 1. Chambers, Whittaker, Witness, Regnery Publishing, INC. Washington, D.C. 1980.