 I was a communist for the FBI. Starring Dana Andrews at an exciting tale of danger and espionage. I was a communist for the FBI. From the actual records and authentic experiences of Matt's Semetic, come many of the incidents and this unusual story. Here is our star Dana Andrews as Matt's Semetic, who for nine fantastic years lived as a communist for the FBI. There was a time when the word peace was included in the approved communist vocabulary and there was a time only recently when that word was replaced by another. This is the story of that time and the other word. In a moment listen to Dana Andrews as Matt's Semetic, under cover man. Now here is Dana Andrews as Matt's Semetic, under cover man. This story from the confidential file is marked violence referred. Here listen to this. The communist party and capitalism can cooperate over a long period of time and eventually the revolt of the proletariat may be attained by peaceful means. Strange talk these days, isn't it? But at the time I joined the Reds for the FBI, that was the official party line. Then a few years later something happened. Something that turned the latent disease of communism into an actively vicious crippler, an epidemic intent on polluting the world of free men. It happened at a big party convention when the word of the communist international became the law of the Communist Party USA. The message from our comrades and the other parts of the world must be heeded. You, in America, must again become the party of struggle, the party of rebel. The teachings of Marx, Lenin and our exhausted leader Joseph Stalin have shown us that it is impossible to overthrow the power of capital by peaceful means. This can only be achieved by a revolutionary violence against the bourgeoisie, by a revolution that crushes the resistance of the exploits and creates a new classless communist society. A big tapershit of the proletariat. Pretty, wasn't it? And it really happened right here in the land of the free and the home of the brave. Then to help start the new red ball of terror rolling, the communist international sent missionaries to America who carried the word to all parts of the party apparatus. One of those missionaries was Leon Plevna, and I was assigned to escort Comrade Plevna to our district committee meeting. So comrades, revolution by peaceful means nearly defeats its purpose. It creates impatience, detention. Comrade Plevna, this new policy is a much greater risk to... The only successful revolution, Comrade Plevna, is revolution by force and violence. Well, let's not kid ourselves. A policy of violence here in America will force the party underground. So, we are underground then. It's not that I don't agree, Comrade Plevna. Naturally, I don't doubt the theories of Marx, Engels and Comrade Stalin. Sit down, Sweety. You talk too much. I'm trying to be realistic about this, Crenshaw. We're due for trouble, and we might as well face it. No harshness with Comrade Sweety, Comrade Tiff. He is honest. He speaks his mind. He can't have that much on his mind. All right, Crenshaw, you win. No offense, Comrade. So enough. I am instructed to tell you that all party records are to be collected and destroyed. Our membership cards to everything. All incriminating evidence must go. What about those documents you brought to us from Europe? They go to... But they outline the entire course with the follow. Places, assignments, the names of our most important leaders. Exactly. Such evidence, so vital, so important. Your FBI would relish it. It must go. Cell leaders have committed the essential points to memory. Now the evidence must go. Comrade Crenshaw. Me? Yes. I see you are a most aggressive cell leader. Thanks. Thanks a lot. Some are not be responsible for collecting the records, files, and cards from the cell leaders. You will do it. Well, say, I sure appreciate this chance. Well, that's a big job, Crenshaw. I'll be glad to help you. Hell, no thanks, Sweety. It's a big job all right that I can handle it, Comrade. You will collect all the files and cards and see that they are destroyed. You will do this quickly and thoroughly. Mistakes will not be tolerated. The enemy must not find evidence to incriminate us. Dica, this is Red. How'd the meeting go? Bad. Plevena wants all the party records destroyed. Membership cards, everything. They go too. That stuff is invaluable to the FBI, Chum. You've got to get it for us. I tried, but Plevena turned everything over to George Crenshaw. A cell leader. He runs a crummy bowling alley on the edge of town. Can't you work with him? I tried that too. No luck. No trying. At our boy. And listen, but we need you more. I knew how much Dica wanted those records for the FBI. These were papers direct from the files of the Communist International, brought here by Comrade Plevena, to acquaint American commies with the work of their overseas comrades. The big reds here and abroad were named. Facts and figures were documented. In the hands of the FBI, it would be a potent weapon against the Versus. But George Crenshaw, not I, was collecting the files to be destroyed. I had to learn where the files were now and how to get them. So I headed across town to Crenshaw's bowling alley. Check your head. Sit over here. Hmm? Oh, no, no thanks. How about your coat? No, sorry. How do you expect a bowl with all them clothes on? I'm looking for George Crenshaw. Oh, friend of the boss or something. Now where he is? Now over there, alley six. Hey, George, he's probably here to see ya. Okay, I'll be right there. He'll be right here. Thanks. Get off while the guys are coming. Let's go and catch up their hats and coats on. I wouldn't make a dime. All right. How long are you staying long? It ain't the time. It's the money. You know what I mean? You're more welcome to communicate. Yeah, him, the hat and coat. All right, George. Well, Svetik, you old son of a gun, didn't know you went in for bowling. Come on over here. I didn't come to bowl, Comrade. I figured that. What's on your mind? It's just a routine checkup, George. Got all the files collected from the cells yet? Svetik, I'm mad. Don't trust me. We trust you, George. It's just that, well, as long as those papers exist, the party's in jeopardy. Now now relax, Buster. Relax. Right now they exist in my office, right in my desk drawer. They're all there, even those European papers, all ready to be burned. Then why wait? Pletna wants to check through them before they burn. Why are you so interested? I told you. Routine checkup. If I can help in any way? Help again. Now listen, Comrade. Pletna gave me this job, Comrade. Me, little Georgie. It's a big job. It's my big chance to be a wheel, a big shot in the party. And you don't want to share the glory, that is? Right. This is my chance to shine, Svetik. All mine. Now listen, I may look like a big, good, natured, happy boy, Comrade, but when someone gets in my way, I get rough, real rough. How rough? Rough enough to report you to Pletna. For what? I don't believe your routine checkup gag. Maybe you have plans of your own for those papers. Are you accusing me of disloyalty to the party? Not yet, but I might. Like I say, Svetik, when you get in my way, I play rough. At least I learned enough from Crenshaw to plan my next step. It was a big step, a drastic one. And it worried me more than Crenshaw's threats. Daily would mean disaster. But I had to take the chance. Crenshaw's bowling palace closed at 2 a.m. At 2.15, I was across the street, carrying a suitcase full of dummy cards, blank paper, and phony files, waiting for the building to empty. When all the lights were out and the street was cleared, I ran for the alley behind the Gumi building. I was under the fire escape now, one flight below the window to Crenshaw's office. The street was silent. The shadows were stationary. I picked out up the metal stairs, lugging that suitcase full of paper. Every step was a prayer that the window would be unlocked. It wasn't. It was locked, locked tight. Only this pane of glass stood between me and the evidence that could incriminate a select group of rotten-hearted traitors. I had to get them somehow. Breaking that window was more desperate than daring. But I got inside. And just in time, too. Who's there? Anybody here? I hadn't figured on this decrepit building having a night watchman, but there he was. The beam of his flashlight poking holes in the blackness. The light bounced up and down the fire escape, flipped across the window, I'd just broken, then hopped around the Anagulao and blinked out. I was alone again and scared silly. No time to waste now. I took the blank paper, only cards and files out of the suitcase and stuffed the commie papers into it, fast. And there. Now to get out of here. I stacked the blank paper in the drawers where the commie records had been, and I ran to the window and opened it and shoved the suitcase out of the fire escape. Uh-oh, I visited it. I gave the suitcase a panic push. It went hurtling down to the alley below as the door to the office opened and the light jumped on. Hey, you! What? Where? Where? Comrade Speddy. I wasn't expecting you tonight. I wasn't expecting you either, Crenshaw. Just what are you doing here, comrade? You've heard of security, comrade. Of course. That's why I came back here tonight. That's why I'm here, too. Checking. My file's me. That's right. Man. I'll just take a look. All the papers and file cards are just where I left them. Now what, comrade? This is security, leaving those important documents in an unlocked desk. No one ever comes into this private office except me. I did. So I found out. Come on, Buster. Where to? You and me. We're going to visit comrade Plevner. Don't you think you should lock that desk first? Yes. Yes, I think that's a good suggestion. Very wise. Leaning over his desk. I just started to pick up a chair when Crenshaw turned. Come on, Svetic. Let's go. Wait. Why the gun, comrade? Just to be sure, I get you, the comrade Plevner. You've got a lot of explaining to do, Svetic. A lot of explaining. All back to Dana Andrews, starring as Matt Svetic. An eye was a communist for the FBI. And the second act of our story. When you join the Red as an undercover man, you're forced to live the back alley life of a comic and speak the festering thoughts of a traitor. But you walk carefully and alone. When you take action, it's bound to be drastic action. Very often, it's downright desperate. Maybe you do it to save democracy, but more likely, you do it to save yourself. My desperate action, though, wasn't saving anything. Those party records, so valuable to the FBI, lay in a suitcase in the alley behind Crenshaw's bowling palace. And I, I sat in a stuffy hotel room facing comrade Plevner and Crenshaw, thinking wildly if an excuse, a reason, an alibi. So, Svetic, second story work does not become you. You have an explanation, then? Yes, comrade Plevner. A good one. Yeah, I'll bet it's a dandy. Look, Crenshaw, I've had just about enough of you in here. Please, comrade, the glory of the cause transcends these petty personal differences. Now, you, Svetic, why did you break into comrade Crenshaw's office? He was after the party files, that's why. Please, please, comrade. All right, all right. It's true. I was after the party papers. We had put the entire party's safety in Crenshaw's hands. I went to check on his efficiency, but I was too late. What? What's that? The party files, all the papers. They're gone. Gone? What? Comrade Crenshaw, you alone were responsible for those records. An explanation. Oh, he's crazy, comrade. They're right in my office, in my desk. The FBI got there before I did, I guess. The papers are gone. Oh, I tell you, Svetic, you're crazy that the stuff is in my desk. It was there when I caught you in my office. You'd better look again. There's nothing but blank paper. All of it. Nothing but blank paper. What? Is this true, Svetic? Check his office and see. If it is true, you'd better ask Svetic what he did with them. Comrade Svetic did well to check your efficiency, Crenshaw. Come, gentlemen. We will see. Back in Crenshaw's office, it wasn't pleasant to watch his reaction when he saw the phony papers and file cards where the party records had been. It was even more sickening to see him led out of the office by Comin Crenshaw. But what can I do? Is it better to eliminate a red trader with tactics approved by the Communist Party? Or to fail the FBI just to save the neck of a commie? Clevner took Crenshaw back to the hotel. What happened to Crenshaw after that? I just don't know. I left them there and headed back to the bowling palace, hoping that no one had found the suitcase in the alley. When I got there, Dawn was hanging over that section of town like a wet gray blanket. The shadows in the alley were shrinking fast. I went straight to the area under the fire escape where the suitcase had fallen. It was dawn. I ran to the other side of the alley. I looked in all the corners, behind the garbage can. Everywhere, still no suitcase. I ran the length of that dirty concrete canyon, searching practically. But it just wasn't there. It had probably been picked up by some well-meaning passerby. Hey, hey, yo! Man, what are you doing back here, huh? What's going on with you? Are you the watchman here? Yeah, who are you? I know this sounds silly, but I lost the suitcase somewhere around here. You didn't happen to see it, did you? Funny place to lose a suitcase, ain't it? Yeah, I did. We were coming from a party, a welcome home party for me. I just got into town last night. What about it? Well, driving by here, I guess we were feeling kind of giddy. One of the gang heaved the suitcase out of the car window. You know, potty and everything. Yeah, yeah, I know about them parties. Did you find it? Yeah, I found the suitcase all right. You did? Well, where is it? Let's get it. Keep your shirt on, son. How do I know it's yours? Oh, now, how many people come up to you claiming a suitcase in an alley? You ain't answered my question, son. Describe it. Well, it's about this long and this wide. What color? Brown. Dot Brown. It's got initials on it, too. MC. That's me, Matt Savetti. Here, you want identification? No, I guess it's your suitcase, all right. Let's get it then. I can't. Why not? I locked it up. Where? In the check room inside the bowling joint. Well, can't you unlock it? No. Sorry, rules is rules. All lost articles get turned into the check room. They're not operating that way for 18 years, son. But I need the suitcase. Nothing's going to happen to it. The place opens at noon. No. Just go in and see Katie, the girl at the check stand. Listen, I've got to make a train in about 45 minutes. I've got to have the suitcase now. I thought you said you was at a welcome home party. Sure, I was, but you see, I'm just passing through. I need that suitcase, pot. Here. Well, 10 bucks, felt with the rules. No, sir, rules is rules. They broke a rule in 18 years, and I can't go losing my job just for 10 bucks. Oh, for Pete's sake. All you have to do is go inside and hand me the suitcase. Is that a crime? Can't do it. A man has to have a little pride in his work, you know. I can't just up and sell out after 18 years of honest work without ever... Okay, okay. Isn't there some way I can get the suitcase now? Not from me, son. Better come back at noon and see Katie. She'll take care of you. Excuse me. You're Katie, aren't you? Yeah, I'll be right with you. I just... Wow, if it ain't the boss's friend. Still wearing the same hat and coat, huh? Yeah. Well, you're going to check him today? Do I want him in here this time of day? No, not this time. I came to pick up a suitcase. Suitcase? The watchman found it outside last night. He said he turned it in here. That effect? Loss of suitcase, huh? He found it outside. Oh, you ain't that careless with your hat and coat, are you, kiddo? No, yes, not. Come here, over here. Here, take a look. That's it. That's the one. All yours, kiddo. Oh, thanks, Katie. I sure appreciate it. Hey, wait a minute. Let's have the check. The check? Yeah, check. You take the suitcase, Katie takes the check. That's how we play around here. But I told you, the watchman found it outside. He brought it in here for me to pick up. He said if I... He didn't leave me no notes or anything. I'm sorry, there's no check. No suitcase. Katie, I've got to have that suitcase. And I've got to have a check or a note from the watchman. Here. Well, $10, take care of it. 10 bucks. Hey, you kidding? This bag's worth more than that. Oh, right. Here's 20. Hey, you sure want a bag, huh? What's in it? Oh, just some personal things. That's all, huh? Yeah, usual stuff, shirts, handkerchiefs, odds and ends. Nothing else, huh? Katie, it's none of your business what's in that bag. Just take the money and give me the suitcase. Take it easy, kiddo. I've got to be sure who gets what around here. Now, you ain't got a check and you won't tell me what's in this thing. And how am I supposed to know for sure if it belongs to you? All right. It's filled with papers, business papers. Well, now that's a lot better, comrades. Okay, fellas, this is the guy. Thanks, Katie. All right, let's go. Wait a minute. What is it? Don't argue. Let's go and take the suitcase with you. One of them led me to a car waiting outside. I sat between them in the front seat as we traveled across town to a quiet residential section of the city. Both of the men were ominously silent all the way. And I knew there were no questions I could ask them. Secretly, though, I wondered how Katie fit into the party, I believe. And how the truth of my motives had gotten back to common pleasure. We stopped in front of a small wine-covered bungalow, the sort of place you see in the ads in women's magazines. The charm of this house was wasted on me now. I could see only its sinister aspects. This way. Wait in here. Go on. The room was furnished comfortably, inexpensive but tasteful. It was the average American family's extra room, the den, complete with chairs, the chess set, books, phonograph. There was a small desk to flatter a man's desire for an office at home and a studio couch for the overnight guest. I waited and wondered about my status as a guest in this house and the sort of hospitality I could expect. Well, Savannah, welcome home. Beaker. Brother, am I glad to see you. I'm sorry if the boys worried you, Matt. Only a few of us in the FBI know what you're really doing. Yeah, well, as long as you don't forget, I'll be okay. We won't, don't worry. That suitcase you brought us will solve a lot of problems. There should be enough stuff in those papers to deport Plevenin. A lot more like him. Good. Hey, how did you get a line on the suitcase? Well, the girl's the bowling alley. What's her name? Katie. Yeah. She opened it, saw the commie papers and called the cops. The cops called the FBI. I didn't think we'd be picking you up, but... Well, it's nice to see you again, Matt. Thanks, Beaker. Wish you could stay. I really do. So do I, Beaker. I walked away from Beaker's home and down the quiet street. A dog barked in the yard nearby. A little girl sang a rope skipping song. A lawnmower clattered across the grass. These were the sounds I missed most of all. But I kept on walking, walking back to the fury of red fanatics who cheered for violence. I was walking away from the sound of peace. No wonder I walked alone. Dana Andrews will return in just a moment. This is Dana Andrews again. In the story you just heard, names, dates, and places are fictitious to protect innocent persons. Many of these stories are based on incidents in the life of Matt Servetic, who worked undercover for the FBI. Next week, another fantastic adventure. Join us then, won't you?