BETRAYAL: The Ethel Rosenberg Story

By Alisa M. Parenti

This is the miracle of life over death, of a tiny sprout peeking up through a crack in the concrete. It is always bravely pushing upward to the bright and beautiful sun.

BETRAYAL: The Ethel Rosenberg Story&nbs

• Language: English
• Publisher: New Degree Press
• Release date: Apr 27, 2021
• ISBN: 9781637301623

Book preview

Part One

Even loss and betrayal can bring us awakening.

—Gautama Buddha

{ Chapter One }

Mary and Ethel

Mary Wurth entered the Sing Sing Correctional Facility completely exhausted from the previous night’s sleepless hours and days filled with nervous tension. The twenty-two-year-old reporter had been granted three, one-hour-long interviews with the prison’s most infamous inmate, Ethel Rosenberg. Along with her husband, Ethel had been convicted of conspiracy to commit espionage against the United States and sentenced to death.

The distinction of charge—not espionage itself, but conspiracy to commit espionage—was lost on many who dubbed the Rosenbergs simply the atomic spies. The case against them was based almost wholly on testimony from Ethel’s brother, David Greenglass.

The Rosenbergs remained steadfast in their determined proclamations of innocence. Part Greek tragedy, part farce, the case riveted not just Americans but readers and observers from around the world.

This was the biggest story of Mary’s young career, and the pressure weighed heavily on her.

With the help of her younger brother Billy, an employee at the prison, Mary had secured the Rosenberg interviews. Access to the renowned woman almost guaranteed Mary would no longer be relegated to covering the high-society events for the paper. She was on her way to being a bona fide reporter.

When she entered the front office of the prison, Mary learned her visits with Ethel would be sandwiched between meetings with the prison’s warden, Wilfred Denno. Ostensibly to brief and debrief her, Mary thought the meetings with the warden were probably intended to direct her coverage. Denno would be looking to frame her conversation with Ethel beforehand and learn what the prisoner had said afterward.

Any trouble getting up here to Ossining? Denno asked as he pulled out a chair for Mary. He then circled his desk and sat down too.

No, sir. No trouble at all, Mary responded.

Good, good. Now, I just wanted to be clear on the ground rules around here before we begin these little chats between you and Missus Rosenberg. Denno pushed up his glasses with two fingers and continued. Your brother Billy is a good, hard worker. He follows the rules around here, and I ’spect you’ll do the same.

Mary’s younger brother was a handyman at Sing Sing. Billy Wurth tended to the grounds outside, painted inside, and fixed whatever was broken.

Absolutely, Mister Denno. Mary gave her most disarming smile but without much impact. This Warden Denno is a tough nut, she thought.

I don’t want you writing about the specifics of the Rosenberg case. It was tried in a court of law. That’s where the atomic spies were convicted and sentenced. It is not your job to get into all of that. Clear? Denno looked expectantly at Mary.

No legal technicalities. Yes, sir, Mary said.

No legal nothing, Denno said, pushing up his glasses again.

That’s a double negative, Mary thought and said, I understand. Her brother hadn’t warned her about the warden, but then Billy never had an unkind word to say about anyone.

Now, do you know how many prisoners have escaped from Sing Sing? Denno asked.

Not many? Mary guessed.

Zero. Zip. Well, none under my watch, at least. And that’s the way we’re going to keep it. So you’ll be searched before an’ after you talk with Missus Rosenberg. A prison matron we have here, she’ll do the honors. She’ll also be with you when you’re up on the condemned block, Denno said as he leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.

Mary noticed the hint of a smile playing on the warden’s lips. Or was it a sneer? Denno kept speaking.

I’ve had a desk brought up, outside the cell. Once you sit down, no getting back up. No trips to the little girls’ room. Clear? Now Denno paused, just for a moment, as Mary nodded her head.

Denno yelled to a secretary sitting just outside his office. Jan? JAN! Go get Peg. She’s going to be taking Billy’s sister here to see Missus Rosenberg. Bring Peggy here. The warden raised his eyebrows at Mary, lowered his voice a few notches, and out of the side of his mouth, said, Hope she’s not in her cups just yet.

When Mary didn’t respond or join in his chuckling, Denno said, Just joking. Ol’ Peg is a fine Irish woman. Now, one last thing. I’ll let you take notes of your interview, but I will read them afterward before you leave.

Mary thought it would be best to go along with everything the warden was saying at this point. She’d be able to do a good job, even with all these rules. And she doubted Denno could read shorthand anyway.

Miss Peggy was a large, kindly woman who smiled broadly at Mary and nodded at Denno when she entered the office.

Good, good. Come in, Peg. Now, listen. This is Miss Mary. She’s the one who’s going to talk with your inmate. You know what we talked about? Denno spoke to his staffer as though she were a child.

You be a good girl now, Denno said, then gestured to both women. That goes for the both of you. Don’t make me regret this. Clear?

Absolutely, sir. We won’t let you down, Mary answered for both of them.

Peggy’s gentle touch belies her sturdy build, Mary thought as the prison matron patted down the reporter’s arms, chest, and back. Peggy felt along Mary’s pleated skirt on the front, sides, and back, humming as she worked.

I know they say Missus Ethel has done some terrible things, Peggy said after the search was complete and as they walked to the condemned block. But she’s as nice as the day is long, far as I can see.

Mary made a mental note and asked, She’s friendly?

Oh Lord, yes. Truth is, I feel sorry for the poor thing. She’s like a bird with her wings clipped, Peggy said. She hops around her cell all day long. Sometimes laughing, mostly crying. Poor thing. You’ll see.

Peggy opened a series of steel doors, and Mary felt a rising panic as the doors locked behind her. She was going deeper and deeper into the prison. Through each passage, with the ensuing metal clacks of the locks engaging, Mary’s anxiety ratcheted up a notch. The cold, damp concrete walls trapped stale air and unrealized dreams. Mary felt her throat tighten.

She wondered how Billy could work in a place like this. Lots of trust involved, she thought. Mary felt a surge of gratitude that Peggy would be nearby.

It’s kinda quiet in here, isn’t it? Mary asked Peggy over the sound of her heels clicking on the floor. Peggy’s rubber-soled shoes were silent.

We’ve only got one inmate in this block. And that’s Missus Ethel. She’s got the whole women’s wing to herself. Ya know, she sings sometimes, Peggy looked sidelong at Mary, putting some emphasis on her next words. Ethel’s got a good… a very good voice.

Then Peggy slowed, and Mary saw a little schoolroom desk in the hallway. This is it. She took a long breath and tried to calm herself.

Missus Ethel? Your special visitor is here. This is Miss Mary, Peggy introduced the two women who were staring at each other through the steel bars. An’ Miss Mary, meet Missus Ethel.

Mary guessed Ethel’s height was close to her own five-feet tall. The prisoner was wearing thick brown stockings, a knee-length beige skirt, and a plain white T-shirt under an oversized gray sweater. Overhead fluorescent lights gave Ethel a ghostly, sallow appearance.

Thank you very much, Miss Peggy, Mary said, giving her a grateful smile before returning her focus to Ethel. Peggy dropped back a few paces and leaned against a wall. And thank you, Missus Rosenberg, for agreeing to talk with me.

I should be thanking you, Mary. Call me Ethel. I appreciate the chance to tell you about us, at least the side that hasn’t come out in the press.

Mary was surprised by Ethel’s deep, rich voice. While the woman appeared pale and fragile, she sounded grounded and steady.

Mary took her designated seat and watched as Ethel sat down in an identical all-in-one desk and chair. Ethel’s cell was larger than Mary had expected. A board resting on built-in steel rods held pictures of Ethel’s sons and her husband, Julius. A small, upright cardboard box held two pencils. Next to that was a pile of writing paper.

On the other side of the cell was a built-in sink on which lay a toothbrush, a small tube of toothpaste, and a bar of soap. A toilet was next to that, and Mary quickly looked away. Imagine having to use the bathroom like that, she thought.

Where would you like to begin, Mary? Ethel was looking intently at Mary, watching her take in all the bleak details of her dreary life inside Sing Sing.

Well, let’s see. Mary looked down at her own pad of paper, which was blank. She looked back up at Ethel. Maybe tell me about yourself before… before all this.

Before the state decided I should be put to death by electrocution? Ethel said bitterly. Then she looked down and softened. You mean growing up? When I first met Julius?

Yes, Mary was no longer flustered. I understand you have quite a singing voice.

Not that anyone in my family ever noticed, but thank you, Ethel sighed heavily. When I met Julius, it was as if all my childhood dreams came true at once, she said, suddenly becoming animated. Julie treats me as his equal. He is kind and loving. And smart!

Mary noticed Ethel’s eyes brighten as she continued. He graduated from City College with an engineering degree. That’s not an easy field of study… Ethel’s words faded, and she seemed to look past Mary.

Ethel’s first response in describing herself, Mary noted, is in relation to her husband. Mary tried to bring the conversation back to Ethel.

Did you want to go to college? Mary asked thoughtfully.

Oh, did I ever. I wanted to learn. And I wanted to be on the stage, Ethel smiled. But Tessie—that’s my mother—Tessie made me work and hand over all of my wages. She said we needed my pay to help put food on the table. Tessie really favored my brother, Doovey. That’s what we called David, my brother.

Mary thought about how her own younger brother, who was so unlike Ethel’s. David Greenglass had betrayed Ethel—his own sister—to save his skin. Billy would never do anything like that, Mary thought.

I told the warden I wouldn’t get into the legalities of your case, but I think I can ask you how you feel about David’s betrayal, Mary said. Were you surprised?

Horrified, yes. Surprised? No. Everything has always been made easy for David, Ethel said, her face showing disgust. He will always choose the easiest path. He is loyal to himself and no one else.

It must have hurt you… his testimony, I mean, Mary asked, leaning into the steel bars that separated them.

Ethel took a long moment before responding.

Still does. Still hurts. And Tessie and the rest of my family are taking his side. Can you believe that? Ethel shook her head. Saying I should lie to save my skin. I suppose if Doovey always takes the easy path, you could say I always take the hard one. At this, Ethel smiled ruefully.

Mary said as little as possible to keep Ethel talking. What do you mean? she prompted Ethel to continue.

Well, I suppose I could take the easy way out on all of this, Ethel looked around the dim cell. "I could give the government what it wants. But I don’t have the answers they’re looking for. I don’t know any ‘co-conspirators’ to name."

Mary said nothing, and Ethel continued.

I’ve been in tough situations since I was little, Ethel said. For as many of my thirty-seven years as I can remember.

After Peggy led the reporter away, Ethel slumped back onto the thin mattress in her cell. She thought back to the tough situations she had referenced in the interview. One of them stood out in her mind. Then, as now, she was trapped.

When she was about five years old, Ethel remembered, she felt uncertain about her erratic mother, whom she was never able to please. She felt a deep longing for a parent who would really see her, who would look into her own eyes with love. But mostly, Ethel felt an all-encompassing, abiding hurt.

The hurt was as wide as it was deep, and it settled in her bones.

She was alone.

We wouldn’t have any problems ’round here if it weren’t for you, Ethel’s mother Tessie had said to her all those years ago. Ethel remembered how those mean words had rattled around in her head from the moment they were spoken. They would resurface again and again in the intervening years.

On this particular afternoon, back in 1920, Ethel had been skipping toward the door of the apartment when she tripped on the cheap, buckled linoleum floor in the kitchen. When she went down, she had grabbed at the corner of the table but caught a plate of crackers instead.

Tessie appeared in the doorway and surveyed the scene—broken plate, crackers scattered, and Ethel sprawled on the kitchen floor.

The images of that day in the family’s Lower East Side apartment played on Ethel’s mind as she closed her eyes and leaned against the cold concrete wall of her cell.

What have ya done? her mother had snapped, picking up a piece of the broken plate. Ethel remembered that she, the child, was left untouched. You’ve ruined the Sabbath meal.

Ethel had looked down at her own little hand and saw she was bleeding. A cut. Mama, Ethel had said, looking up and extending her hand.

That’s what happens when you tear around here, Tessie said, shaking her head.

The thirty-seven-year-old Death House inmate remembered the whole scene as if it had happened the week before.

Ethel remembered instead of taking her hand, her mother had turned and put the piece of the plate in the garbage. Turning back to Ethel, she had said, Now clean this mess you’ve made.

After Ethel scooped up the crumbs and the bits of plate, and cut her other hand in the process, she had been sent to her room. Ethel remembered smelling the challah bread baking later that same day. She remembered how she had cautiously peeked out.

At the time, Ethel had very carefully stepped across the main room and stood at the doorway of the kitchen.

Ethel remembered seeing her mother’s back as Tessie stood looking down at the sink. From her angle, being just a little girl, Ethel couldn’t see her mother’s head—just a tall figure with big shoulders.

Mama, may I come out now? Ethel had asked her mother.

And now Ethel played back what happened next. Tessie had not turned to face her daughter but instead barked around her shoulder, No, you may not. I will tell you when you can come out.

But she didn’t. Not when she heard her grandfather, her Zayde, arriving a few hours later. Not after dinner and not when everyone went to sleep.

And not now, three decades later, Ethel mused. Even though Tessie never seemed to really love her, she never released her either.

And in those years after the broken plate, in the early mornings when Ethel would listen to the sounds of the city outside starting to come alive, she would repeat to herself Tessie’s hurtful words. My family wouldn’t have any problems if it weren’t for me. My family wouldn’t have any problems if it weren’t for me.

Ethel remembered how Tessie’s anger would envelop her like a cloud at all times. Sometimes the cloud would be filled with the crackling thunder of criticism and lightning bolts of blame. Other times the cloud would produce a cold drizzle of dissatisfaction directed at Ethel.

And Ethel remembered when she was a child she thought she could find a way to please her mother, that she could somehow get Tessie to love her. Now, Ethel chuckled humorlessly.

Instead, her whole childhood had been a constant berating. Ethel never did a good job at chores. Her hair was an awful mess. She was lazy and selfish. That is