Curio Cabinet

A look at one of the most controversial criminal cases in U.S. history.

It's not every day a crime is declared "worse than murder." Yet that's precisely what Judge Irving R. Kaufman said in regard to the crimes of Julius and Ethel Rosenberg, who were convicted of espionage on March 29, 1951, and put to death two years later. It made them the first American civilians executed for the crime. Today, the Rosenbergs' case is an ongoing source of controversy, bringing up ethical questions about the death penalty and trials during the U.S.'s "Red Scare."

 

The Rosenbergs were born in New York, and married in 1939. They were members of the Communist Party of the United States of America, and in 1940, Julius began working as a civilian engineer with the U.S. Army Signal Corps. During this time, he engaged in espionage. Ethel's involvement would remain unclear, but her brother, David Greenglass, was also a spy. He was a U.S. Army Sergeant who worked as a machinist on the top-secret Manhattan Project, and passed secrets about atomic weapons to Julius. Julius then turned this information over to a courier named Harry Gold, who gave it to Soviet Vice-Consul Anatoly A. Yakovlev.
 

Julius became a suspect in 1945, when the army discovered he was part of the Communist Party. When Harry Gold was arrested in May of 1950, he implicated Julius Rosenberg and David Greenglass, who were both quickly arrested. Ethel's arrest came in August. The trial that followed was highly public and extremely short, lasting from March 6th to April 5th. The Rosenbergs were charged with conspiracy to commit espionage, which, under the Espionage Act of 1917, carried the death penalty.
 

Ethel's own brother was the chief witness for the prosecution, and spoke in detail about the crimes committed by the Rosenbergs. Greenglass was not required to provide physical proof, and his story regarding Ethel's involvement was inconsistent. His original testimony before a grand jury stated that only Julius was involved. However, only Greenglass's second testimony was shown during trial, in which he stated that Ethel was present during all of the spy ring's meetings. Greenglass gave this second testimony in exchange for charges against his wife, Ruth, being dropped.
 

The Rosenbergs maintained their innocence throughout the trial, but pleaded the Fifth Amendment when asked specific questions. This may have done them more harm than good, as their silence made them appear suspicious, to many. Although public opinion was not on the Rosenbergs' side, many people were shocked at their death sentence. A surge of international sympathy for the Rosenbergs cropped up. Many who thought they were guilty still protested the death penalty. Even F.B.I Director J. Edgar Hoover said that the execution of a young mother would reflect poorly on the government.
 

The Rosenbergs' sentence was appealed and denied seven times before the Supreme Court. Two presidents, Harry Truman and Dwight D. Eisenhower, dismissed the Rosenbergs pleas for clemency, with Eisenhower stating that, "The execution of two human beings is a grave matter. But even graver is the thought of the millions of dead whose deaths may be directly attributable to what these spies have done."
 

In 1953, the Rosenbergs were executed at Sing Sing Prison, making Ethel the first woman executed in the U.S. since 1865. After the collapse of the Soviet Union, in the early 1990s, Soviet intelligence confirmed Julius' involvement in espionage. However, much debate remains about Ethel's involvement, the fairness of their trial, and especially the fairness of their sentence. One thing's for sure: the Rosenbergs' case will remain one of the most unique criminal cases in U.S. history.
 

It's Flashback Friday! Enjoy this favorite from the Curio Cabinet archives.
 

Why exactly does popcorn cost so much at movie theaters? It's all thanks to a May 1948 U.S. Supreme Court decision, U.S. vs. Paramount Pictures et al, which ruled movie theaters and movie studios are not allowed to be owned by the same company. Before that time, most major movie studios also controlled chains of theaters, either through direct ownership or something called block booking. That was the practice of major studios requiring independent theaters to book an entire "block" of films together, essentially boxing out other studios and giving them control of when, where, and for how much their movies were shown. The Supreme Court first ruled against the studios' monopolistic practices in 1930, but because of the Great Depression, its ruling was never enforced. So the Justice Department tried again in 1946, siding with a group of independent movie producers which included Charlie Chaplin, Samuel Goldwyn, Walt Disney, and Orson Welles. Eventually, the case reached the higher court, which ordered that bidding for movies had to be competitive and individually licensed. Price fixing of admission, joint ownership of movie studios and theaters, and block booking were all ruled illegal. But as a result, theaters now have to bid for each movie separately, and end up making almost no money for the first few weeks of each release while the studios recoup their investment. On average, a theater keeps less than 25% of its total ticket sales, sending the rest to the studios. Which means movie theaters are now in the popcorn business. Over 90% of their profits come from concessions, and they are still barely getting by. Some economists predict they will all be gone in ten years. So the next time you drop $40 on a bottomless tub of corn, some Red Vines, and two XL sodas, think of it as a charitable contribution!

On today's date in 1603, Japanese warrior and statesman Tokugawa Ieyasu was declared shogun. It was the start of the Tokugawa shogunate, which lasted from 1603–1867, until Japan modernized. Tokugawa was sort of a sneaky fellow, compared to his contemporaries. He was born during an era of strife and civil war in Japan called the "Warring States" period. At the time, feudal landowners called daimyo (meaning "great names") were causing trouble in the countryside, siccing their samurai on each other and commoners. The daimyo and their samurai had long been reined in by shoguns, or hereditary warlords. But for decades, the previous Ashikaga shogunate had failed to control the daimyo. Then along came the "Three Unifiers" of Japan: Oda Nobunaga, Toyotomi Hideyoshi, and Tokugawa Ieyasu. There's an old saying about these three allies. "Nobunaga gathered the ingredients, Hideyoshi baked them into a rice cake, and Tokugawa sat down and ate it." In other words, Nobunaga waged merciless war across Japan but died before he achieved victory. Hideyoshi, as Nobunaga's successor, finished the job by unifying Japan and instigating reform efforts. Notably, he banned farmers from carrying weapons, and in turn forced the samurai to quit pillaging. However, he died with only a five-year-old heir.
 

Enter Tokugawa, who "sat down and ate the rice cake." A long-time ally to Nobunaga and Hideyoshi in their previous conquests, Tokugawa quickly moved in on the title of shogun after Hideyoshi's death. His forces clashed with an army loyal to the late Hideyori in 1600. Tokugawa emerged the undisputed master of Japan. He celebrated by building formidable castles and rooting out each of his remaining rivals. Say what you will about Tokugawa, but his policies resulted in an unprecedented three centuries of peace, stability, and isolationism. The harbinger of the Tokugawa shogunate's demise came in the form of American Commodore Matthew Perry, who sailed some ships into Tokyo's harbor in 1853. Leveling his guns at Tokyo, Perry used "gunboat diplomacy" to force Japan to open to foreign trade in 1853. The Tokugawa shogunate, faced with Western industrialization and modernization, fell shortly after. Which saw the beginning of the much darker imperial period in Japan's history. Tokugawa may have been a political vulture, but hey—250 years of peace is 250 years of peace. That's a longer span of time than the entire history of the free United States!