Ring Lardner Jr., R.I.P - Brief Article

National Review, Dec 4, 2000 by Jay Nordlinger

The last surviving member of the Hollywood 10 died on October 31, aged 85. As it happened, I met him on a blustery day last spring-in his own apartment.

Coming back from my morning walk in Central Park, I encountered a lady who was struggling against the wind. I asked if I could help her. I could. I asked if she would like me to see her home. She would.

The woman was Frances Chaney Lardner, wife of the once-blacklisted writer. She was delighted to learn that I was a journalist. Would I please come up and meet her husband? I demurred, but she insisted. And so-in shabbiest clothes on Central Park West-I ascended in the elevator to the Lardner apartment.

Some would call this "Only in New York." I started out the morning ordinarily; I ended it in Ring Lardner's home looking at his Oscars. There were two of them: one for Woman of the Year, the other for M*A*S*H. I had never seen an Oscar before-they're big.

The walls were covered with memorabilia, including photographs of actors, and athletes, and writers. One item in particular drew my attention, so emblematic was it of this couple: It was a certificate showing that Mrs. Lardner had won the Roger Baldwin Award of the Massachusetts-not the American, mind you, but the Massachusetts: even better-Civil Liberties Union.

We had a nice chat, and Mr. Lardner-who was sharp as a tack, but deficient in hearing-treated his wife with charming and touching tenderness. After a while, a moment of truth came. Asked Mrs. Lardner, "Where do you work, Jay?"

Please consider the situation: I work for National Review. I was talking to a couple one of whom went to jail for refusing to testify before HUAC.

After an awkward pause, I cleared my throat and said, "Mrs. Lardner, I work for National Review. I'm afraid I'm a bit of a conservative." (I'm not sure why I threw that "a bit of" in there-must have felt the need to soften it.)

Mrs. Lardner's eyes danced, and she said, "Oh, Jay, don't be embarrassed! We won't judge you! We're very open-minded people!" I smiled, sort of relieved. Turning to her husband, she touched his knee and repeated herself: "Oh, Ring: Jay's embarrassed. But, really: We don't judge him. We're very open-minded people!"

Mr. Lardner just smiled, gently-seeming less sure, perhaps.

We continued our visit and after much expression of goodwill bade farewell.

This was a strange and memorable encounter, full of meaning, I suspect. Communism, to me, is monstrous. My anti-Communism, to them, must have been little less. Yet here we were, three friendly strangers, happy to get to know one another a little on a blustery spring morning.

"The human element" runs strong.