Murphy: HUAC Is Un-American

He Stands Up Against Attacks on Hollywood

My Mother and Audie Murphy chapter 125

Audie Murphy’s relationship with the House Un-American Activities Committee (HUAC) reveals a complex intersection of patriotism, celebrity, and the political paranoia of the Cold War. Murphy’s resistance to the climate of fear created by HUAC highlights a principled stand against the infringement of civil liberties and the weaponization of patriotism.

The House Un-American Activities Committee was a congressional committee formed in 1938 to investigate subversive activities within the United States. While its initial focus was on Nazi and fascist influence, its focus shifted sharply after WWII toward the perceived threat of communism. By the late 1940s and 1950s, HUAC had become a tool for political persecution, utilizing public hearings to “out” suspected communists. The committee operated on a system of coercion; witnesses were often pressured to “name names”—to identify colleagues, friends, or family members with socialist or communist leanings—in exchange for their own professional survival. Those who refused to cooperate were often cited for contempt of Congress or, more commonly in Hollywood, were placed on “blacklists,” effectively ending their careers.

From the book Show Trial: Hollywood, HUAC, and the Birth of the Blacklist by Thomas Doherty

Audie Murphy’s involvement with the anti-HUAC sentiment was less about an ideological alignment with the left and more about a visceral reaction to the committee’s tactics. Murphy, who had faced the horrors of war and seen the true meaning of sacrifice, found the committee’s methods of intimidation and betrayal abhorrent. For Murphy, the demand that citizens betray one another to prove their loyalty was fundamentally un-American. He viewed the HUAC hearings not as a defense of democracy, but as an attack on the very freedom of association and thought that he had fought to protect in Europe. 

Murphy’s stance was particularly potent because he was “untouchable” by the committee. As a national hero with a chest full of medals, including the Medal of Honor, he could not be easily painted as a “Red” or a subversive. This gave him a unique platform to criticize the committee without the immediate fear of professional ruin that haunted his peers.

Murphy was not alone in his opposition, though the risks for others were far higher. The most famous instance of resistance occurred in 1947 with the “Hollywood Ten,” a group of screenwriters and directors who refused to answer HUAC’s questions on First Amendment grounds. They were imprisoned for contempt, and their names became synonymous with the blacklist. Other stars took different paths of resistance. Paul Robeson, a world-renowned singer and actor, became a primary target of the committee due to his outspoken socialist views and his refusal to renounce them, leading to a systemic erasure of his career in the United States. 

Audie Murphy testifies

The First Amendment Committee made a radio program to defend the First Amendment and critique HUAC–Hollywood fights back. Forty-five stars, directors, screenwriters and four U.S. senators spoke.

Audie Murphy said: 

“You know during the war every guy in uniform dreamed of the day when he could stop squeezing triggers and come home. You get so fed up on fighting that you never want to do it again. There’s one kind of fighting that has to go on always. You can’t ever take a furlough from this fight to preserve human liberty. I think the methods used by the Thomas Rankin committee are a challenge to those liberties and I think we should use every fair and constitutional means to fight those methods.” (HUAC was also called the Thomas Rankin committee).

In the broader context of McCarthyism and the Red Scare, Audie Murphy’s opposition to HUAC serves as a reminder that the defense of civil liberties is not the exclusive domain of any one political party. Murphy’s resistance was rooted in a soldier’s code of honor and a citizen’s demand for privacy. By challenging the committee, he demonstrated that true patriotism consists not of blind obedience or the betrayal of others, but of the courage to protect the constitutional rights of all individuals, regardless of their political affiliations.

Murphy, in particular, embodied the principle that American heroes are defined not only by military valor but by the willingness to defend constitutional liberties. His opposition to HUAC showed that the most decorated soldier of World War II understood that the war’s true purpose—defending American freedom—required vigilance against threats to liberty even from within America’s own government.

Committee for the First Amendment Relaunched

Recently over 550 celebrities relaunched the Committee for the First Amendment. The current group is headlined by actor and activist Jane Fonda — whose father, actor Henry Fonda, was one of the early members.

Jane Fonda rallys fellow actors. Photo: msn.com

Their intent is to stand up in a defense of our constitutional rights: “The federal government is once again engaged in a coordinated campaign to silence critics in the government, the media, the judiciary, academia, and the entertainment industry.”

In a letter inviting her peers to join the re-established group, Fonda writes: “I’m 87 years old. I’ve seen war, repression, protest, and backlash. I’ve been celebrated, and I’ve been branded an enemy of the state. But I can tell you this: this is the most frightening moment of my life. When I feel scared, I look to history. I wish there were a secret playbook with all the answers — but there never has been. The only thing that has ever worked — time and time again — is solidarity: binding together, finding bravery in numbers too big to ignore, and standing up for one another.”

Chapter 126: https://mollymartin.blog/2026/10/17/post-war-letters-to-flo/

How Could You Be a Catholic?

An Awkward Reunion with an Old Comrade

My sign for a counter protest at an anti-abortion rally

It all went well and then it didn’t.

We had met at college and we had lived together briefly at a hippie refuge near Washington State University. Paul had gone to high school with a couple of our other comrades who moved out of a WSU dorm together to form the counterculture household. Once I got out of the in loco parentis contract that only applied to female students, I moved in next door in 1969. Much dope was smoked and acid dropped. We focused as much on anti-war marches as studies. I joined the nascent feminist movement. My women’s liberation group helped female students get underground abortions and we worked to change the state law to make abortion legal in 1970, three years before Roe v. Wade.

We were a collection of misfits and Paul was a misfit because he was very fat. He’s still large, but, since bypass surgery, not as obese as he was. Probably this was a defining trait in his life. Men we encountered would comment openly on his weight just as they are compelled to make rude judgments about women’s bodies. I felt protective of him.

After that, along with 12 other activists, I founded a collective house in town, but Paul did not follow us there. He had graduated and moved on to a teaching job elsewhere.

We reunited with college friends in 2011, 38 years later. Most had stayed in Washington State. I was the only one who’d moved to California. Paul lived and taught high school math in a small town in Washington. 

More recently Paul and his wife Amanda contacted me asking to meet up in Santa Rosa. They were flying in for a wedding. Could we meet for lunch? Of course I agreed, thinking covid would surely be a thing of the past by the time we got together.

But covid did not comply. The surging pandemic boosted anxiety and my wife declined the lunch, but she greeted them politely and invited them to look around the house and garden. 

We lunched at my favorite restaurant, a destination for out-of-town company. They are foodies, so that was a good choice.

We talked about old friends. I was glad to reminisce with someone who remembered them.

At a pro-abortion protest. Photos by author

After the wedding, they wanted to meet up again. I suggested Brew, the gay coffee and beer shop owned by dykes.

Paul and Amanda divulged that their heads were still in the ‘60s. I think they were talking about music, but I didn’t ask them to elaborate.

At this meeting I learned that they had met at a weight watchers meeting; both had worked and retired as teachers. When they told me they were practicing catholics and had raised their three kids as catholics, alarm bells went off in my head. Really? The catholic church is the enemy of women and gays. The catholic church wants to destroy me and everything I’ve been fighting for all my life. At WSU the women’s liberation group ran up against the catholic church while organizing for women’s reproductive rights. 

I said all this. Not very articulately. How could you be a political radical and a catholic? But maybe Paul had never been a radical. He’d just lived with a bunch of radicals. Maybe for him the sixties were all about smoking dope.

Paul and Amanda were in town for another day and I suggested they drive to the ocean. You can’t visit Sonoma County and not see the spectacular Sonoma coast. Paul complained about driving and I suggested Amanda drive. No, he said.  

Paul raised his voice to put off my expected protest. I imagined this was the voice he used on dissident tenth graders. “It’s a scientific proven fact, he said, that women have poorer directional sense than men and Amanda would get lost.” 

To this statement I didn’t even respond. It seemed so bizarre and out of the blue, not a point worth arguing.

Amanda agreed that she has a terrible sense of direction and told a story to prove it. She went along with the program and maybe didn’t want to drive, although she said she did drive when she had to get somewhere. 

“You could be the navigator,” I said. “You’ll be sitting right there riding shotgun. My wife and I share the driving and navigating.” 

To this Paul just shook his head, as if he couldn’t even imagine allowing his wife to drive.

The last text Paul sent said, “We made it. A long way to Bodega Head. Stopped for water on the way.”

That was the last I ever heard from them.

Comebacks unsaid:

I have a very good sense of direction, probably better than yours. Let’s rumble.

Does remembering the sixties include remembering the feminist movement? 

Did you tell tenth graders that women can’t drive?

Do you believe in women’s right to choose abortion?

Do you believe in women’s equality?

Do you think, as the catholic church does, that gay people are sick?

If you believe, as the catholic church does, that women are lesser beings and queers are sick, why did you want to get together with queer old feminist me?

Gearing Up for a May Day Protest

My Regular Pagan Holiday Post

50th anniversary celebration of Portugal’s Carnation Revolution. Photo: IF DDR

May 1 International Workers Day

Beltane, the pagan holiday

April 25 Portugal’s Freedom Day

International Workers’ Day on May 1 had its start in the USA. The observance was first proclaimed after scores were killed in police raids on nonviolent workers agitating for the eight-hour day in Chicago in 1886. In the U.S., anti-socialist sentiment and political pressure has limited its observance. But other—many other—countries in the world celebrate this holiday that honors the people who actually work to build our societies and cultures and infrastructure!

This May Day, Americans are organizing a massive day of nonviolent, economic disruption to protest the pillaging of our environment, the dismantling of our democracy, and the shredding of our social safety net at the hands of the billionaire class.

We are on the way to Morocco for a women’s hiking trip in the Atlas Mountains, and on May Day we’ll be in Portugal. Both of these countries celebrate International Workers Day with marches, community gatherings and a day off work. I hope to parade with the Portuguese in Lisbon.

Portugal’s prime minister, Luís Montenegro, said “Today we celebrate with all workers: those who produce, create and contribute to a more productive and socially responsible country.”

Perhaps we Americans can take inspiration from the Portuguese revolution. The 1974 revolution, known as the Carnation Revolution, was a nearly bloodless military coup that overthrew the Estado Novo regime, ending over 40 years of fascism. It marked the beginning of Portugal’s transition to democracy and led to the independence of several African colonies.

The Carnation Revolution got its name from restaurant worker Celeste Caeiro who offered carnations to soldiers when the population took to the streets to celebrate the end of the dictatorship. Other demonstrators followed suit and placed carnations in the muzzles of guns and on soldiers’ uniforms. In Portugal, April 25, Freedom Day, is a national holiday that commemorates the revolution.

No Kings Santa Rosa

March 28, 2026

Marchers were coming from two directions to meet in Old Courthouse Square, but we decided to come directly to the square. I wanted to hear friends in the Good Trouble Band (they were great). The Press Democrat estimated 12,000 people at the protest, our biggest by far. I took lots of pictures and here are a few.

Neighbors in our village

Blossom Peeping in Yakima

My Regular Pagan Holiday post–Ostara

Each spring, near the Vernal Equinox, my family practiced a ritual that felt both ordinary and divine. We piled into the car and drove the back roads, wandering through orchards to admire the blossoming trees. In an agricultural town in the 1950s, perhaps many families did something similar. To us it marked the true arrival of Spring.

Yakima, Washington is on the dry eastern side of the Cascade mountain range, and from certain places in the valley you can glimpse two great peaks rising in white brilliance above the brown, sagebrushy foothills. The Indigenous peoples named the mountain we call Rainier Tahoma, which means “the mother of waters.” The Native name for Mt. Adams is Pahto. Closer in, foothill ridges encircle the valley: Ahtanum Ridge, Rattlesnake Hills, Horse Heaven Hills. 

Our annual blossom pilgrimages would take us south to the Lower Valley where the trees bloomed earlier. To reach it from the town of Yakima, you drive through a narrow gap in the Rattlesnake Hills at Union Gap, where a massive basalt landslide is now slowly creeping south at a foot and a half per week. Drive fast and don’t look up. 

From there, the road winds along the Yakima River past Wapato, Toppenish, and Buena—locally pronounced Byoo-enna. I didn’t realize until adulthood that the word is Spanish. Originally, the place had been called Konewock, a Native word meaning a lush, green marshy place. But when the railroad needed a station name, it became Buena.

The Yakama Indian Reservation borders the Lower Valley towns and stretches west toward Mount Adams. On the reservation stand the remains of Fort Simcoe, where U.S. soldiers were stationed during the Indian wars of the 1850s—a quiet, uneasy reminder of deeper histories layered beneath the orchards.

Yakima was home to vast orchards of apples and pears, along with stone fruits—peaches, cherries, apricots. In the spring the valley was a quilt of flowering trees, fragrant and luminous. But, in my childhood, change was already underway. Like the orchards here in Sonoma County today, many of Yakima’s were already being razed to make room for postwar housing developments and, later, vineyards.

The new ranch-style house we moved into in 1951 stood on land that had been a cherry orchard. The developers left one tall cherry tree in the front yard of each house on the block. I climbed every one of them. Across the street, an apple orchard remained, and bi-planes flew overhead, trailing clouds of DDT and other pesticides. 

There is the row of cherry trees behind me (R), brother Don and a neighbor. I couldn’t find any blossom pictures and at Easter in 1955 the cherries hadn’t yet bloomed.

When I was a kid, Yakima was a town of about 40,000, with a lively downtown. Women wore hats and gloves to go shopping. Store windows gleamed, sidewalks buzzed, and the town felt cohesive, self-contained. Then, in the 1970s, the first shopping mall arrived, and everything shifted. Downtown slowly hollowed out.

Behind me is the across-the-street apple orchard.

Now the population of Yakima is getting close to 100,000. Farmers still grow hops, and there are still fruit trees—mostly apples—but vineyards have been steadily taking over. There is less blossom-peeping now; grapes, after all, have no blossoms.

Me (R) and friend. From the back yard we can see development encroaching and a few trees left.

But we still participate in the ritual of spring blossom peeping. Holly and I have planted a little orchard of cherry, plum and peach trees in our back yard. We have a magical orange, and lemon and apple trees hang over our neighbors’ fences. Plus, in our town of Santa Rosa there are magnolias, redbuds, dogwood and ornamental fruit trees, enough to inspire a months’-long Spring ritual right in our neighborhood.

On March 28 we will be marching with our neighbors in the No Kings march and rally here in Santa Rosa, but every little town in Sonoma County will be hosting a No Kings event. We haven’t yet seen a big uptick in ICE arrests here, but the government’s anti-immigrant project is nevertheless creating chaos in the agricultural community. Our sheriff still has not responded to community demands that he not work with ICE and people feel that they are under siege. We are determined to protect and defend our immigrant neighbors.

My No Kings sign posted in our front yard
Four women in my neighborhood had these signs made, with quotes from luminaries that promote kindness and justice. Now they are posted in front yards all over town.

Happy Spring blossom peeping and protesting to all!

At the VA Protest January 30, 2026

Trump wants to defund and privatize the U.S. Veterans Administration

Free America Walkout Jan. 20, 2026

With Santa Rosa Women’s March and SEIU Local 2021

Folks Get Creative With Their Signs

On Tyranny: Twenty Lessons from the Twentieth Century

My friend and neighbor Laura Doty made these cards from the Timothy Snyder book.