Foreign News: For Whom the Bell Tolls

In Paris and throughout France the collaborationist trials were beginning. Special prosecutors studied lists containing 100,000 names to determine who should go free, who should be haled before one of the 114 special courts.

First before the Paris court came Georges Suarez, tough-minded former editor of the collaborationist Aujourd’hui. During the Nazi occupation, his editorials had exhorted Frenchmen to betray members of the Resistance. “Informing used to be a necessity,” he said, “now it is an obligation.” Suarez also liked to quote French Catholic Writer Joseph de Maistre: “The executioner is the keystone of modern society.” Solemnly the Paris judge and his four assistants listened to a reading of Suarez’ editorials. Then they passed sentence: for Editor Suarez, execution.

Next before the bar was Boris Theodos-sienko, a White Russian refugee. He had been a petty stool pigeon for the Gestapo, had circulated through the boites, reported whatever anti-German talk his eager ear could catch. For him, seven years at hard labor, confiscation of property.

Next came Pierre Boero, Georges Neroni, Pierre Lambert. They had served in Joseph Darnand’s Milice, had played minor roles in a major crime—the assassination of Georges Mandel, great Third Republican, bitter foe of fascism, who was kidnapped from a Paris prison, murdered in the Forest of Fontainebleau. They were acquitted of the murder, convicted of aiding the Germans. For Lambert, 20 years; for Boero and Neroni, death.

Social Events. The trials were almost social events. Crowds jampacked the Cour d’Assises, in Paris’ Palais de Justice, where Marie Antoinette had heard her death sentence pronounced. Among them was many a chic, smartly-gowned woman. Over the sea of heads few could see more than the naked statues looming behind the scarlet-and-ermine-clad judge, or catch more than brief glimpses of the begowned prosecutors, defense counsel and defendants. But all listened in a silence unusual in French courtrooms.

The President of the Court read the accusation in detail to each prisoner. The accused was permitted to interrupt, deny any point, turn the reading into a conversation between judge and defendant. Counsels for the defense, most of them assigned by the court to take on the unpopular cases, stood by to press points of law favorable to their clients. Such time-consuming luxuries as character witnesses were barred. The cases were ticked off quickly. It took just 90 minutes to try and convict Suarez.

In France’s crowded jails and concentration camps other prisoners were awaiting trial. Some were guilty men. Others had been arrested in the confused days of liberation on the denunciation of personal foes, business rivals, even discontented wives. Many were obscure men. Many were famous in France and in the world.

One, Automagnate Louis Renault, had escaped trial by a timely death. Another. Dr. Alexis Carrel, co-inventor (with Colonel Charles A. Lindbergh) of the mechanical heart, was too ill to be tried. Less lucky were Lucien Felgines of Radio-Paris, Operatic Soprano Germaine Lubin, famed Ballet Dancer Serge Lifar, Actor-Playwright Sacha Guitry, Cinemactress Dita Parlo, Historian Bernard Fay, Police Inspector Pierre Bony, all awaiting trial. On trial this week: Stephane Lauzanne, famed editor of Le Matin, well known in the U.S. where he came to cover the 1932 Presidential election.