 Rainier Old Stock Ale presents recorded. I was a communist for the FBI. Ask any man who knows good ale, this is what you'll hear. Give me a bottle of Rainier Ale, ale with robust cheer. Try Rainier, you'll ask one more. You've never had ale like this before. Rainier! The biggest selling ale in all the west. Rainier Old Stock Ale, the ale with robust cheer. Starring Dana Andrews in an exciting tale of danger and espionage. I was a communist for the FBI. The story you are about to hear is based on the actual records and authentic experiences of Matt Sevettik, an undercover agent of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, who for nine fantastic years lived as a communist for the FBI. Here is our star, Dana Andrews as Matt Sevettik, undercover agent. Nine years of it, nine years of living behind a mask that made me an outcast among my own people. And from behind that mask, I saw these things happen. It's all in the record. Listen to Dana Andrews as Matt Sevettik, FBI undercover agent. Here is Dana Andrews as Matt Sevettik, undercover man. This story from the confidential file is marked, exit on the left. The regular meeting of our cell was being held in the home of our cell leader, Selma Malnick. Selma's apartment was decorated in the cold, brittle manner of a sophisticated bachelor girl, but actually Selma was a married woman. She was married to the Communist Party. And at this particular cell meeting, her marriage was being threatened. Just a moment, please, be quiet, all of you. I'm gonna render you a fool, a stupid, short-sighted fool. Maybe yes, maybe no. You must forgive me, but I'm resigning from the Communist Party. Tonight, now. Quiet, quiet, please. Comrade Malnick. What is it, Comrade Sevettik? It should be pointed out to Comrade Lorenz that if he does... Mr. Lorenz, now. It should be pointed out to Comrade Lorenz that his resignation from the party will place all of us, our cell leader especially, in disfavor with our superiors. Perhaps that's what he has in mind. No, no, no, wait, wait. No, that's not so. You must understand, truthfully, I... I want no one to suffer for the mistakes I've made. Sweet of you. Well, I... I want to start no trouble. You must believe that. I joined the party on my own accord in... In March, 1937. Yes, yes, 1937. I joined because the Communists were fighting fascism, Hitlerism. I believed in the fight against fascism. I still do. But today... Well, today the Communist fight is different. Oh, I've tried, but I... I cannot believe in it. You can do our cause great harm, you know. Committees investigating our activities are looking for weaklings like you. From the bottom of my heart, I don't want trouble. For you, for me, for anyone. After tonight, I want you to forget me while I forget you. No, Comrade Lorenz. The member may give up the party, but the party never gives up a member. Taxi, mister? What? Oh. What's the meter say? Meter's read. Good, let's go. It couldn't help it, Beaker. Tactic meeting tonight. Any trouble for you? No, it's Arthur Lorenz. He quit the party. Lorenz? Do we have a file on him? My doubt it. He was never active enough to bother the FBI type. About 50. He works as a librarian at the Hauser Library. Why is he quitting the comic? Coming to his senses, I guess. But his resignation puts Selma Malnick right smack on the spot with a party bigwigs. Her future depends on the way she handles Lorenz. And little Selma, a place to keep. Malnick? She's that tall, sharp-looking gal, isn't she? Ah, sharp-looking. Like a meat ax. One night later, the meat ax was ready to strike. And I had been chosen to hold a victim on the chopping block. This was revealed to me in a way I never expected. Selma invited me to her apartment for a late supper and conversation. The food was fine, the candlelight seductive, and for a while I was almost convinced that Selma was more woman than cell leader. Comfortable? Hmm? Fine. Me too. Nice. I've got it all figured out at last. Hmm? Psychology. A calculated plan. You listening? Mm-hmm. Work on the mine, that's the trick. Work, work, work on the mine. A letter or two at Firstman. A few anonymous phone calls. No names, just cordial invitations to return to the party. I call every 15 minutes all night long. Every night. Oh, still. Comrade Malick. Fine time to call a girl comrade. Comrade Malick. I think it would be wise to forget, Loren. Relax, will you? Now, this is important. Well, naturally it's important, but you need to be so rude about it. This isn't a cell meeting. Well, it's become one. The welfare of the party means more to me than petty common courtesies. Well, for a while I almost doubted that. Are you testing me, Comrade Malick? Don't worry. You bet. Tell me, do you like my plans, Loren? Not at all. Then I'll intensify it until he begs to be reinstated. He's not with the effort. Once a man turns from our exalted cause to bourgeois sentimentality, he can no longer be trusted. Oh, that's true, but as long as we can't control him, he's a threat. The party's well rid of him. Let him go. Read the papers, idiot. A committee's investigating reds on the civil service panel, and Loren's is a librarian. He's too frightened to become a friendly witness. Well, I can't take the chance. Our leaders hold me personally responsible for him. And you can't take the chance either. Oh, gee. When did this psychological treatment of yours begin? It started already. And you'll see that it continues. Very well. Good night. Oh, wait a minute. Don't leave now. It's still early. We must never divert our attention from our cause. Distractions are dangerous. Good night, Comrade. And believe me, Selma by candlelight was a surprisingly dangerous thing. A strange combination of woman and devil, the Sel leader of ours, frozen fire dipped in red. That plan of hers would crack Arthur Loren's like an old plate. I'd seen what it had done to other well-meaning dissenters. The phone calls calculated to scrape a nerve ending with every ring. The comments muttered by complete strangers patting the street. Sorry. Next time the bump may be harder, Comrade. Letters in the mail. A note tucked in a bag of groceries. A phrase scribbled across a streetcar transfer. All designed to make a man face the most ordinary prosaic fragments of daily living with fear, suspicion, dread. A deliberate pretested scheme to drive Arthur Loren back to the Communist Party or out of his mind. Pardon me, where's the Chief Librarian's office? Just beyond the reference shelves to the... you've... How are you, Comrade Lorenz? Please, please, Matt, go away. Let me alone. You look haggard, worn. Been working hard? Let me alone for the love of heaven, Matt. I can't stand much more of this. Please, Matt, talk to Selma. Tell her I won't make any trouble. I swear it. I just want to forget. Forget. Investigating committees would love to hear what you'd like to forget. You know I wouldn't do that, Matt. Wait, where are you going? To the Chief Librarian's office. Why? What for? He called me this morning, said he wanted to talk to me about you. When Lorenz had been hired at the library years ago, he had listed me as character reference. That's why I had been called. The library received a letter, an unsigned letter, stating that Lorenz had been a Communist since 1937. What could I do? What could I possibly do? The letter was as much of a shock to me as it was to Lorenz when he was called in to explain it. Lorenz admitted his red connections, even though it meant his job. But his honesty was no greater than his resentment toward me. He was convinced that I was responsible. As we left the Chief Librarian's office, the bitterness of defeat echoed in Lorenz's voice. I've always hated vindictive people, heretic. But now I hate you more. So help me if it takes the rest of my life. I'll even the score with you. Arthur, you have to believe me. I had nothing to do with that letter. Some day, heretic. Some day, very, very soon. Frankly, I'm rather proud of that letter. Did you notice the way I made the handwriting look so crude? Yes, Comrade Malek. Very crude. That's a funny thing. People don't like it. That's a funny thing. People are more willing to accept unsigned letters of accusation than the other type. They don't feel obligated to challenge the accuser, I guess. Now, about the next step in Operation Arthur Lorenz. Comrade, you're underestimating the results of your scheme. Am I? Yes. Lorenz couldn't possibly be a threat to our welfare any longer. He's been jobless for weeks, blacklisted. He spends most of his time in bed on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Good. Good. Perhaps I'll be commended by our leaders. Nevertheless, I feel we must... Good evening. Oh, and, Comrade Lorenz... Welcome home, Comrade Lorenz. So nice to see you. Just stopping by to pay my respects. Not my friend. I never had a chance to thank you for all you did for me. Thank me. Listen to him. Such a modest man. Haven't you told Selma and the others here? Told us what? Oh, how you convinced me to leave the party. What? Oh, he'll deny it, of course. You know how modest Matt is. But really, Selma, in all fairness, he did a remarkable job. Why, if it were not for Matt, I'd still be in the party. Ferric, is this true? Of course it isn't true. Tell them, Matt. Tell them. Yes, by all means, tell us. Hours, he spent. And literally hours talking, reasoning, convincing me that the Communist Party was no place for a decent honest man. No end. Do you realize what you're doing? Oh, please understand, Selma. Matt did it only because he felt I was a poor worker. That your cause would be better off without me. It was in the best interest of the party. I'm sure it was. Now, we're all happy. The party is better off without me. And despite all I've been through, I'm better off without the party. I think Matt deserves some special attention for his work, don't you? I all mean. And I'll see to it that he gets it. Friends, here's an ale that tastes so good, is so full of satisfying, robust cheer, you'll ask for it again and again. Yes, for real deep down thirst quenching pleasure, remember to get Rainier Old Stock Ale, the biggest selling ale in all the west. At the very first sip, you'll agree that here is ale at its most zestful, refreshing all-time best. For Rainier Old Stock Ale has a smooth, creamy head, a lively, nut-brown body, unmatched flavor and robust cheer. Boy, what wonderful refreshment. So enjoy the ale that has everything. Rainier Old Stock Ale, the ale with robust cheer. Try Rainier, you'll ask for more. You've never had ale like this before. Rainier Ale! The biggest selling ale in all the west. Rainier Old Stock Ale. The ale with robust cheer. Now, back to Dana Andrews, starring as Matt Severick. In I was a communist for the FBI, and the second act of our story. Arthur Loren did even the score, just as he had threatened. Was I slated to go before the Red Control Commission and accept my fate? What was it to be? If only I could be sure. Or could I expect the same type of mental torture that had made a wreck of the quiet little librarian? A bit of part of that torture I discovered was the anticipation. Waiting. Wondering when it would begin. I thought myself jumping in shadows, dreading the sight of every unfamiliar face. Until I decided to get this treatment started myself. Well, this is a surprise. Can I come in? Yes, I suppose so. Well? All right, Comrade Malick. Tell me what you were after. What do you want of me? I might ask you the same question. This is an odd hour for visiting, you know. This silent treatment I'm getting. Did you consider me a traitor? Turn me over to the party leaders and stop this foolish dawdling. I may not consider you a traitor at all, but others in the party insist on proof. Our sell, you know, gives everyone opportunity to prove one's faith. Even if one is driven out of his mind in the attempt? Our cause has no use for that sort of weakling. Nor have I. Just what must I do to prove myself? That's up to you, isn't it? Good night, Comrade Malick. Seems silly to leave now. Well, this is an odd hour for visiting, I'm told. You and I are odd people. They're really an amazing creature. You'll devise a scheme to drive a man out of his mind. My concern is a political entity. But you won't drive a man out of your apartment. My concern is a woman. As a political entity, they're fascinating. And as a woman? They're just a woman. Good night. As I left, I saw the frosty look and Selma's eyes, and I knew the waiting would soon be over. The bristling silence of anticipation was about to be shattered, but what would take its place? I walked the streets for hours and wondered, looking for signs, omen, symbols, feeling like a man who had just paid the bill for his own... May the God be with you! I've seen it. I've seen the whole thing. That dame went right through the red light. You okay, mister? Yeah, yeah, I'm all right. You should walk more carefully. Selma. Lady, you could have killed this guy. He ought to turn you in. That's what he ought to do. No, no, it's all right. Forget it. Silly dame ought to lose her license. Any dame who can't see a traffic light ought to be in there quick. Man's right. I apologize. You've been following me, haven't you? Just for a few blocks, as a political entity, not as a woman. Naturally. May I drop you somewhere? No thanks. I'll walk. Be careful, comrade Svetik. Don't walk against the red. And so it was officially launched by its guiding spirit, Selma Malnik. From now on, I could expect another kind of waiting. A waiting between incidents. When would the next one happen, and what was it to be? The devil is it. Hello? The matter with this thing, hello? What the heck was it? Who is it? Hey, hello? Who's on this lawn? Hello? Your floor, sir? Hmm? Oh, uh, fire please. Okay. You new on the elevator? Yes, sir. My first day. Sit floor, sir. Thanks. What's your step, comrade Svetik? Hello? Anybody on this lawn? What? He's early in the morning. What was it? Hello? Hello? Who is this? Speak up, will ya? Who is this? It was beginning to get me in spite of myself. To get under my skin and strom away at my nerves. I could no longer talk myself out of the jitters. And I couldn't risk contacting the FBI. I knew now what Arthur Lorenz had suffered. But in my case, what did it all mean? Was this my punishment? Or my chance to prove my faith is a loyal red? Or was it merely the whim of a red she-devil who secretly yearned to be a woman? At least the latter would be the most human explanation. Who is it? Who is it? Now tell me, who is it? All right, let's get it over with. Look who's here. What do you want, Lorenz? May I come in? Sure. Sure, come in. Come in and gloat over the job they're doing on me. Matt, I want to help you. Help me? You? You can't even help yourself. For myself, I don't care anymore. About all I have left is my conscience. I'll never forgive myself for what I did to you, Matt. The story I told myself. Maybe I had it coming to me. Who's the judge there? Communists? That's why there's sudden concern for me. Not you, Matt. Not you. I don't have to live my life with you. I'm forced to live with myself. Same reason you left the party, no doubt? It took me a long time to do it, Matt. It frightened me. But it's done. Now that I have the courage to face my conscience, I... I can't let this business with you make me a coward again. You're still a coward. You won't recognize the strength of our cause because you're afraid of it. Even now you talk like this. Go on, get out of here. Be a hero. Run to the investigating committees and wallow in bourgeois slop. Go ahead. Then see how long you and your kind will last when we rule the world. Well, don't stand there looking like a cock a spaniel. Get out. Matt. You mouth all the words. But I still think there's hope for you. I can do without your hope. It's the other people. The Selma monarchs. The ones who sit in judgment and handle human beings like so many chessmen. They are the hateful ones. Will you get out of here? It hurt. It hurt bitterly to treat off other ends like that. I stared at the door for a long time after he left. He could never understand me as long as I was forced to play my dual role as a red and an undercover man. But I hoped, hoped with all my heart that he might have understood what I was trying to tell him to do. And then, then came that insidious probing finger of doubt that I veiled my message heavily enough for my own safety. The next night as I headed for a restaurant, I got the answer. Hard way. You spedic. What do you get in? Now, wait a minute. Don't argue, comrade. Get in. Oh, no, you don't. Hey. Okay, let's go. I'll get in. Everybody's staring at it. Congratulations, comrade Svedic. We're proud of you. What for? You've redeemed yourself gloriously. You've proved your faith in the party. You've given us even greater faith in you. I don't understand. Your conversation with that quempering fool Lorenz, irrefutable evidence of your loyalty to our cause. You, you heard what I said to Lorenz? Standard procedure for suspicious cases. Tap the phone while the room. Your every word was recorded. Have your, your new cell leader play the records for you. You'll enjoy them. Thank you, comrade Malaga. Our new cell leader. Is that what you said? Oh, of course you hadn't heard. I've been relieved of my duties. This morning Arthur Lorenz testified before the committee investigating civil service affairs. His testimony has sealed my fate as a party worker. Oh, I, I see, but you seem so pleased. I'm to report to party headquarters right after this meeting. The penalty for my incompetence in handling Lorenz will be determined by our leaders. But aren't, aren't you worried? I am exalted, comrade. My case will serve as a warning to other cell leaders. Even in failure, I will serve the Communist Party. My dedication is complete. The irony, the futile paradox of this sort of dedication. The frozen fire of Selma Malnik snuffed out by the weak, ineffectual Arthur Lorenz when Lorenz stopped being a red and became a human being. Even among the Communist, I found myself constantly seeking out human qualities among the comrades. But always in the final analysis, I had two choices. To walk with the frosty-eyed political entities or to walk alone. I chose to walk alone. Those will return in just a moment. Yes, there certainly is a difference in ale. That's just what you'll say when you enjoy your first rare refreshing taste of Rainier Old Stock Ale, the ale with robust cheer. That's right, folks. Zestful sparkling Rainier Ale is always satisfying, always refreshing, brimming with tangy lip-smacking goodness. You know, Rainier Old Stock Ale is the biggest-selling ale in all the West. And to be the biggest-seller, it has to be the best. So remember, for cheerful relaxation, for real deep-down robust cheer, enjoy Rainier Old Stock Ale. Try Rainier, you'll ask for more. You've never had ale like this before. Rare. The biggest-selling ale in all the West, Rainier Old Stock Ale, the ale with robust cheer. This is Dana Andrews. These stories are designed to illustrate one important point about democracy. You can't set free men free. Free men must set themselves free. In this story, as in all others, names, dates, and places are fictitious to protect innocent persons. Many of these episodes are based on incidents in the life of Matt Sevetic, who worked for nine years as an undercover man for the FBI. Next week, another fantastic adventure. Join us then, won't you? For a sponsor, the Rainier Brewing Company feels privileged to present this expose of communist activities in the United States. They would appreciate your comments regarding these programs. Just tell the man who sells Rainier Old Stock Ale what you think of, I was a communist for the FBI. Another exciting real-life adventure in this thrilling expose of communism in the United States. Be sure to tune in next week and every week to follow the time 9.30 p.m. The day Saturday, the station KNX. I was a communist for the FBI. Recorded and starring Dana Andrews was presented by Rainier Brewing Company, brewers of Rainier Old Stock Ale, and came to you from Columbia Square.