 I was a communist for the FBI. Barring Dana Andrews and an exciting tale of danger and espionage, I was a communist for the FBI. Any of the incidents in the story you are about to hear are based on the actual records and authentic experiences of Matt Sevettik, who for nine fantastic years lived as a communist for the FBI. Here is our star, Dana Andrews, as Matt Sevettik. For nine years I lived on the brink of a volcano, a volcano called communism, a volcano which is centered in Soviet Russia, but which is erupting all over the world. Through fishes and the social structure, the lava of communism has eaten its way until it has engulfed whole countries in subcontinents, burying freedom and the dignity of men as deep as the suvious buried Pompeii. That's the future the communists plan for free men everywhere, Mr. It's a warning for my story. It's the story of communism. In a moment listen to Dana Andrews as Matt Sevettik, under coverman. As Matt Sevettik, under coverman. This story from the confidential file is marked an un-American activity. When the Politburo of the American Communist Party ordered my district leader to report to them in New York, it was instructed to take over his duties. That was a week ago and I've heard nothing more from either the Politburo or my district leader. I don't like it because the closer you get to the top of the red organization, the closer you're watched. And I know there's always a chance that I'd make a slip, a slip that could be fatal. I'm in my room assembling some new special study party literature and extracting copies for the FBI when my phone rings. I'm putting together some packages at the moment. I'll be over in an hour. But look, I've got the phone call. It may mean nothing at all. Then again, when you're a communist for the FBI, it may mean something very important. Number four is a red meeting place used only in party emergencies and this, obviously, is an emergency. I put back the copies of red literature that I'd held out for the FBI, just in case my room is searched while I'm gone. I walk up to the car that's to call for me, but there's no waiting. The car's at the curb when I walk out of the building. The driver swings open the door. As I walk up to the car, he says, Are you sure, Dick? Yes. Get in. What's up? We're late. Hang on. What's the big rush about? I just take orders, comrade. My orders are to bring you to number four, right now. Number four. I've been here. Well, get out. They're waiting for you. Thanks. You're certainly never going to get into trouble for talking too much. This discretion, this meeting wouldn't have been necessary. I don't believe I've ever seen you before. Possibly not, but you'll know me well before the matter is finished. I'll get inside quickly, comrade. The enemy may have spies watching this place. Right up those stairs, comrade Svedik. I know the way. Well, before I take any more orders, I want to know who's giving them. You can call me comrade Volters. I'm a member of the party security committee. Now please walk up the stairs. There are others waiting for us. As we climb the long dimly lit flight of stairs that rises to the party's dingy office, the fear that never leaves me rises too. There's a red security officer at my back, and I don't know what's ahead. Then we reach the top of the stairs, and I open the office door. Now that comrade Svedik has arrived, we'll get down to business. I've been sent here to warn you and to help direct your fight against one of communism's worst enemies. The Washington committee is preparing to subject this area to one of its degrading public circuses. One of our comrades is secure a list of those who will be subpoenaed, including the names of those rats who've actually volunteered to serve the persecution as friendly witnesses. This meeting is to determine what action we should take against these swine. The red's reaction to comrade Voters' announcement is so violent that I wish every fellow traveler and parlor pink in the country could hear it. They hate the committee, of course, but their hatred for friendly witnesses is much deeper. They'd like to give them the sort of red justice that has purged thousands of innocents in the communist homeland and its satellites. We ought to give them a trial then hand them over! We thought it was admirable, comrade, but not practical. We could beat them until they were afraid to talk to the committee. The next suggestion was for a series of accidents to befall the deserting comrades, a speeding car on a dark night, a fall from a high building, all the impossible-to-prove murder methods that have ever been used before. It was an idea that appealed to this group of scared and frustrated reds, and I knew I had to sidetrack them right then. I'm no hero, and I didn't want to buck that mob, but some of the friendly witnesses are people who've made a mistake, and they want it correctly. People on our side now who've seen the red side, and they don't like it. It was my job to protect those people, no matter how scared I was. So I stepped up and opened my big mouth. Comrade Voters! Comrade Voters! Yes, comrade Svedik? I'd like the floor for a minute. You have it? Okay. In the first place, I want all the comrades to know that these rats were willing to become friendly witnesses. However, any action against these people, before they testify, would reveal that we have a source of information close to the committee. Just what would you do about these traders, comrade Svedik? Well, before these subpoenas are issued, I'd talk to them. How do you talk to our rats? Some of us would remind them of the party's purposes. Others would talk about a member's obligations. If that fails, comrade? If that fails, comrade Voters, after the subpoenas are issued, it's time enough for coercion. Still go violent? No. The threat of violence is enough if it's accompanied by a smear campaign and phone calls over 15 minutes, day and night. Besides, right now, we should spend our time and energy preparing our campaign against the real enemy, the committee. Do you have any suggestions concerning that, comrade Svedik? Yes, if you'd like to hear them. Yes, we would. My suggestion is to organize every group in the city in which any of our comrades are members into public opposition to the committee and its persecution. You mean labor unions, industrial councils, business organizations and so forth? Yes, with paid ads in all the papers denouncing the committee and its unconstitutional violation of the Bill of Rights. You're talking like an idiot. I'm talking as acting district leader when I'm telling you how to organize a public opinion against the committee. Force them to stop their vicious harassment of party members. Svedik, you know that we don't have enough party members in any labor union, any industrial council, any organization in the city to force any one of those groups to pay for ads attacking the committee. Don't be naive, comrade voters. These organizations won't know anything about the ads. They're supposed to be sponsoring until they've read them in the papers. We'll place the ads and we'll pay for them. The organizations will disclaim them. You won't do any good because the ads will be signed by comrades as members of the various organizations. Individuals. Obviously. And like most people, comrade voters, you don't read the small and up in advertisements. Our ads will be signed by, say, Matthew Svedik for the Independent Workers Association. Oh, no, that won't mean a thing, Svedik. It will to the casual reader and particularly when the Matthew Svedik is a normal size type, the Independent Workers Association in type four times that size and the for thee so small it can hardly be read. With the Red's enthusiastic acceptance of my plan for attacking the committee, I was also able to wangle an agreement to try my suggestion for dealing with the friendly witnesses. Then the meeting broke up and I hurried to make my report to the FBI. What about the friendly witnesses? But these particular people are genuinely on our side now. They're trying to help us. We have to protect them. In the next few days, I was on quite America round, organizing the Red's campaign against the committee and at the same time planting evidence that I hoped the FBI could use to frustrate the campaign. I almost forgot the problem of the friendly witnesses. Then the subpoenas were issued and comrade voters paid me a visit. The hierarchy is quite unhappy with you, comrade Svedik. What do you mean? About the handling of the friendly witnesses. Although in my reports, I've stressed the seeming excellence of your proposed campaign against the committee, I've been forced also to report the failure of your plan for handling our traitors. Mere talking to them has done nothing to change their minds. Then our comrades can't have done a very good job of talking. Do you think you could do better? Certainly. If I hadn't been so busy with this other matter... In that case, forget the other matter for a day or two. Yeah? Yes. You talk with these white-libered weaklings. Show them the error of their ways. Okay. And be your most persuasive comrade. If your plan fails, the responsibility will be yours alone. And the group deciding your punishment may not include a comrade Svedik to sidetrack their violence. The responsibility will be yours alone. Voters is right. But what happens, the responsibility is mine alone. If the friendly witnesses wilt under pressure, I'll feel responsible to the American people. If they don't wilt, if they testify against the communists, I'll be the guy held responsible. I'll be the guy who pays. As Matt Svedik and I was a communist for the FBI and the second act of our story. There's no other interpretation of Comrade Voters' orders for me to talk to the deserting comrades and dissuade them from appearing before the committee as friendly witnesses. As soon as I feel it's safe to leave, I go out to a phone booth and call the FBI. Now that the subpoenas have been served, the heat is on. On you? Yes. And I'm supposed to transfer it to our friends. I'm supposed to get to them immediately. Give us half an hour before you're trying to see any of them and go through the list of friends alphabetically. I hope that's the right answer. It has to be. We can't take a chance on one of the witnesses identifying you as the goon who put the heat on them. Okay. Anything more? Yeah. One of our men spotted a couple of security committee goons getting off a plane about 20 minutes ago. Watch your step. Thanks. Thanks a lot. I wait a half an hour before trying to reach the first of the friendly witnesses Voters has ordered me to pressure. But my FBI contact has made good on his promise. When I returned to Comrade Voters at number four, I'm forced to report that all of those party traders have been taken into protective custody. I don't envy you your position, Comrade Svidick. It was you who persuaded the group to delay punishing these rats. Yes. But to protect the party. Protecting the party is the business of the security committee. I'll explain the situation to the security committee. They want to talk to me. They do. In fact, two of the comrades arrived in town just a short time ago. For your sake, I hope your campaign against the committee is more successful than your suggestion for handling rats. For the next few days, we're all too busy making last minute preparations for the committee hearings for Voters or his two goons to give me any trouble. They're hanging around, of course, but the local comrades swallowing their own propaganda are so confident of chasing the committee right out of town that the goons adopt an attitude of wait and see. The night before the first day of the hearing, the entire group meets at number four for a final report and briefing. Quiet, please. Now, tomorrow, comrades, in the hearing room of the Washington committee, we will fight the battle for freedom. The night and tomorrow morning, every newspaper in the city will carry pages of ads denouncing the committee and its flagrant violations of the Bill of Rights. Outside the building, protesting working men and women will pick at the hearings. Yes, Comrade Mercer. I'd like to make certain that all comrades who've been designated to pick it as working mothers make arrangements to borrow their babies for the duration of the hearing. Comrade Voters. Comrade Ryan. I would like to remind the war veteran who is under subpoena to wear his combat medals to the hearings and to throw them at the committee's feet when he's called upon to testify. The red's attitude has done a complete about face since the night of the first meeting at number four. Then they were frightened and frustrated. But tonight, they're ready to man the barricades behind the protection of the Fifth Amendment, of course. One misguided idealist even goes so far as to compare this meeting with those held in 1776. And as the comrades grow more exuberant, I grow more depressed. As soon as I can, I get away to phone the FBI and make my last report before the hearings. But I don't have to make the call. I'm waiting at a street corner for the light to change when a car pulls up beside me. And my FBI contact says... Get in quick, Matt. Okay, Matt. We ought to be safe now. Let's have the final rundown. It doesn't look good. We're our sider for you. For either. Now, let's have it. The reds have really organized this time. Everything from babes and arms among the pickets to veterans with war medals among the witnesses. What's their attitude? Confident. Those scheduled to appear before the committee tomorrow are going through last-minute rehearsals with their lawyers. The picket chairman are making a final check of their groups. Voters and the Goon Squad are still at number four. Are they anticipating any violence? I haven't heard of it, if they are. Hey, drive me back near number four and drop me. Okay, why? I want to have a talk with voters about violence. I have an idea that may save my neck. I'm glad you came back, Comrade Svedic. I was just discussing you with Comrade Mercer and Ryan. A thought came to me when I was on my way home that seemed so important that I came right back. You're full of thoughts and ideas, aren't you, Comrade? Oh, I try to give the party the benefit of any idea I may have, Comrade Mercer. Such as don't use violence against rats. Yes. I still feel that any violence would have engendered serious reactions against the party. What was this new great thought of yours? I wanted to warn you against any violence on the picket lines tomorrow. We weren't anticipating any what made you think of it. Nothing really. It just occurred to me that reactionary members of some of the unions or industrial councils whose names we're using in tomorrow's ads might come to the hearings and try to stir up trouble. I see. And you want to urges against using violence? I'll go further than that. As acting district leader, I absolutely forbid it. You are forbidding me to use my own judgment? A party cannot... The party is no place for anyone with the yellow streak of his back, Comrade Smith. If anyone gives us trouble tomorrow, we're going to fight back. Maybe if we crack a few heads, we'll make some red-blooded conquests. Labor division of the Steel Industry Council? Yeah, that's me. I just called to tell you that there's an ad in tomorrow morning's paper which gives the impression that the Steel Industry Council is supporting the communists and their attacks on the committee. There's a what? There are other ads purporting to show that many of the labor unions are also behind the reds in their fight against the committee. Well, Mr. Martin, a lot of them will be picketing the chamber's building. That's where the committee is holding its hearings. The next morning, the comrades at Jubilant living on a strict diet of propaganda, they're the world's greatest suckers for the printed lie. They've all read the ads in the papers and even though they know how the ads were inserted, they've kitted themselves into believing that the city's entire populace is rising behind them to drive the committee into hiding. Up in the committee room, the friendly witnesses are giving damning evidence against the party and various party members. Down on the street, the pickets are proudly carrying their signs, too blinded to realize that the expression in the eyes of the average passing American is a mixture of growing hatred and contempt. I'm standing off at one side, watching the scene. When I see a group of shirt-sleeved working men approach, led by a man I know is Jake Martin, the Steel Industry Council's labor leader. I walk over to where, hidden from the reds, I can be handy when Jake wants to ask a question. My timing is good. Who's running this red parade? I don't know for sure, but they seem to be taking orders of that big fellow over there by the statue. The one with the two thugs standing in back of him? Yeah, that's the man. I think they call him Comrade Volters. Comrade, huh? Come on, boys. We'll teach these skunks to use the name of labor for their dirty propaganda. You boys! As soon as the two lines crash into each other, the police move in, and I get out of the area. There aren't many comrades present at number four that night, and of those who are there, I'm the only one without a bandage, which doesn't please Comrade Volters at all. Where were you when the fighting was going on, Comrade Svetik? Phoning headquarters in New York. Phoning? To report that despite my warnings, despite my absolute order, you had deliberately engaged in street fighting. You reported that? Direct to headquarters. Oh, you snip. I'll teach you to run to headquarters. Sit down before I knock you down. It won't hurt the party any if I get violent with you. Now, listen. You listen! Now, look, I didn't start anything. First, I knew about a street fight was when that guy came up and hung one of my jaw. You threatened to use violence last night, Comrade Volters. I reported that, too, together with the fact that you've played right into the hands of the committee, giving them valuable propaganda to use against the party. You're to report to the Central Committee in New York tomorrow morning. No, I'm not going back. It'd be suicide. I wouldn't be surprised, Comrade. It's a pity, too. It's such an un-American activity. Why didn't you tell me what you had in mind when you asked me to drive you back near number four, man? I was afraid the bureau couldn't endorse the instigation of the street fight. I didn't see any other way to save my neck. Now, you were right on both counts. Incidentally, the watching an office picked up the rat who was passing along information he felt from the committee's file. Was he working for the committee? No. His girlfriend was a secretary in the committee office. She was transferred, though she had no idea he was a communist. They're not going together anymore. What do you mean? I had a girl once, but not anymore. I guess that's part of being a communist for the FBI. The committee and Comrade Voters have left our city, but the scars they left on the party will be a long time in healing. Because I was right and Voters was wrong, the local Comrades are working overtime and trying to make me forget that they were against me. I have a lot of invitations these days, but I'm not accepting any. The people I'd like to be with, plain, average, everyday Americans, want no part of me, and I want no part of the Reds, except as a communist for the FBI. So I choose to walk alone. Dana Andrews will return in just a moment. This is Dana Andrews. The struggle between freedom and communism affects your life every day, directly or indirectly, through battle tolls or taxes. It's a struggle you can't afford to lose. Although to protect innocent persons, the names, dates, and places are fictitious, the danger they warn against is very real. Next week, we'll bring you another strange adventure based on the fantastic experiences of Matzavetek. Join us, won't you?