 I was a communist for the FBI. Starring Dana Andrews and an exciting tale of danger and espionage. I was a communist for the FBI. From the actual records and authentic experiences of Matt Sevetik, how many of the incidents in this unusual story? Here is our star Dana Andrews as Matt Sevetik, who for nine fantastic years lived as a communist for the FBI. For nine years I disowned myself. I tried to forget what I'd been and what I stood for. I wasn't my own man, but two men, facing in opposite directions, but joined by arteries and nerves. I was a living contradiction for two masters, against two masters, traitor, patriot, communist, FBI. An angel sat on one shoulder and Satan on the other, for nine long, fantastic years, when I was a communist for the FBI. In a moment, listen to Dana Andrews as Matt Sevetik, under cover man. So here is Dana Andrews as Matt Sevetik, under cover man. This story from the confidential file is marked, The Sleeper. First, I think it's a conventional trick to put me on edge and add a disadvantage for whatever's going to happen. Then I realize that Comrade Revson is really worried, deeply puzzled. He stands looking out the window, holding that official looking paper in his hand. He's worried about it, but I see he's also memorizing it. Then he turns to me and discovers me slowly, as though I hadn't been there when the letter was handed to him by a drop passenger. Sevetik. Comrade Revson. I have an assignment for you, from the higher source. The Kremlin in person? Sevetik, you know Shepard Riker, of course. That loud communist baiter? Shepard Riker is an extremely dangerous man. His work in Washington is strategic, and his personal campaign against the party is embarrassing. It's time we did something about him, too. We are about to do something now. Mrs. Riker lives in this city, a charming woman, reportedly. What's she got to do with it? She is one of us. Mrs. Shepard Riker, a communist? I said so. She can't be. It just isn't in the books. But it is. She joined the party 10 years ago, most attractive, very young. Too attractive for the ordinary work of the party. We assigned her to return to her usual life to forget she was a member of the party, until we should call upon her for special duty. These orders are it. We are calling her back to active service. You will make an appointment with Mrs. Riker. Serve the greetings, honoree. And acquaint her with her assignment. She is to use her influence with her husband to make him cease entirely his attacks on the communist party. Suppose she'd rather forget she was a communist entirely. Remind her. Suppose she says no to proposition Shepard Riker. We will entertain no alternatives. And that's all I have to do. Get Mrs. Riker to make her husband lay off the party. Correct. Any suggestions? Only one. Succeed. I've been a communist for the FBI for quite a while. But this is a new one on me. And I'm always uneasy about these or else assignments of Rev. I phone my FBI contact and we arrange to meet on a park bench near the lagoon. I tell him about my new assignment. For a minute he doesn't say anything. I feel a chill, cold, and a bluish November twilight. Then I see him getting ready to talk. Matt, you may be in for a bad time with Mrs. Riker. Well, that's how I figured it, but Rev. is blind about it. Mrs. Shepard Riker represents one of the less known devices of the party. He's what the red tacticians call a sleeper. Sleepers in the party are supposed to make themselves scarce with the party, going to normal life. Act as if they'd never join the party. Get lost. In short. But they're still in the party. Oh, indeed they are. And subject to call when the party has just the right assignment for them. Charmy and Riker's number happens to be up. You have a tough assignment, Matt. Tough moral problem involved. How? Well, look. If you succeed, you'll have brought Charmy and Riker back into active party duty. And you'll have knocked a strong anti-communist out of action for the Reds. Uh-huh. I don't envy you. There might be some unpleasant realities for you both to face when the sleeper wakes. Is this Mrs. Shepard Riker? This is Mrs. Riker. May I speak to Mr. Riker, please? This is Mr. Matthews. I'm sorry. Mr. Riker's in Washington. I can tell you where he may be reached if it's urgent. It's very urgent, but I'd like to discuss it with you first. I can't talk over the phone. Well, I don't. What did you see your name was? I said it was Matthews. Does that mean it isn't Matthews, perhaps? Perhaps. Sounds rather mysterious and conspiratorial, and I don't have much taste for conspiracy, Mr. Matthews. Then your tastes have changed in the past 10 years. What do you mean by that? I mean you ought to make a sincere effort to hear what I've got to say. I suggest dinner at any place you suggest. Could you make it earlier than dinner? Better yet. Five o'clock at my apartment. Just as you say. Make it 4.30, would you? It gets so dark so early these days. I understand, Mrs. Riker. Goodbye. Goodbye. Even over the telephone something unusual comes through. Peculiar plaintive quality, dignified by an inflection that seems outdated. A lady, quote-unquote, straight out of one of the better lavender novels of 50 years ago. The voice of a highly sensitive woman. Of a Puritan. But beneath the Puritanism something that might be warmly demonstrative. I take the self-serve elevator to the ninth floor, press the doorbell and the plushie corridor. Mr. Matthews? Am I too early? No, or rather yes, but that's good. Come in. Do sit down, Mr. Matthews. Thank you. May I get you some refreshment? If you don't mind, Mrs. Riker, I came early to leave early. I'd like to come to the point right away. Yes. My business is only indirectly with your husband. What is it, please? Well, your husband is a powerful man in Washington and still going up. He's pretty outspoken in his criticism of the Communist Party. He feels very strongly about it. We want him to cut it out. Let... let me understand you. We want your husband to stop attacking the Party. Who precisely wants him to stop? We do. You and I. Who are you? Comrade Matthews Svetech. Comrade Charmian. Go back to your superiors. Tell them that ten years ago I was an impressionable girl. I joined the Party blindly. Tell them I'm ten years older now without any girlish illusions about the revolution and the dictatorship of the proletariat. Tell them that I'm married and that I love my husband. I will not change him from his attacks on the Communists in America. I can't tell them that. That's what I'm telling you. Do as you please with it. You love your husband. Just how do you think it will affect his anti-communism and his career if it becomes public that you are a Communist? I'm not. You joined the Party ten years ago and we can prove it. I left it eight years ago. I may be on the Party rolls all right. But all my acts and all my instincts are against them now. Your husband might not make such a fine distinction. He hasn't up till now. You're saying that if I don't betray him you will force him to expose me? Very much afraid so, Carmen. Blackmail. I'm afraid so. Now, what shall I tell my superiors? Tell them... say... Mrs. Riker. Please, Mrs. Riker. Tell them to let me think about it. I don't have to ask them. Think about it. I'll call you. I see Charmian Riker twice in the next few days. No decision. But I don't push. First, you can't push people like her without breaking something. And second, I'm a little fascinated by Charmian. The more I like her, the less I like my job. And pretty soon I hate my job. Revson is getting impatient. Afraid that Moscow will start pushing him for a decision from Charmian. I have dinner with her again in a off-the-trail place. Her idea again. I hate it. The job sickenes and shames me. And tortures a woman I like. And respect. I know you're getting pretty tired of me by now. Anybody else wouldn't have been his kind, I'm sure. Kind. You're the tolerant one. I don't have a choice, do I? I suppose not. I'd like to remain kind. But my chief is pressing for a decision from you. I can't. Sooner or later, it'll be the same. You can't win. Call it crocodile tears. Say we'll sacrifice anybody for our ends. I guess we will. But I'm sorry, Mrs. Riker. Don't call me that in public. Somebody should recognize the name and notice us together. You dine openly with other men until your husband's knowledge. No harm done, I'm sure. Openly, yes. This isn't open. It's so clandestine, so secret. I feel I'm dishonoring Shep already. I can't call you Comrade Charmian in public. No. Just Charmian? I suppose so. Charmian. Nice name. Matt, look over there carefully. Corner? Careful. Is that man watching us? Do you know him? No. No, I don't know him. He's coming over to us. Good evening. Excuse me. My name is Rebson. Well? You are Matthew Svetik? I am. It is important I speak to you privately. Oh, you excuse me, Charmian? Of course. For the remainder of the evening, Mr. Svetik. Now back to Dana Andrew, starring as Matt Svetik. And I was a communist for the FBI. And the second act of our story. I put Charmian into a cab, feeling like a nervous adolescent being quipped home by a stern parent. Worse, I sensed the panic in Charmian being discovered and exposed. Rebson walked silently beside me, steering me into the park, swept empty by the raw November night. Now then, Svetik, tell me about this excessively handsome woman. You know all I've reported. Is there anything new tonight? No. Why not? You don't use bulldozing tactics on people as sensitive as Charmian. Charmian? How friendly. Now listen, Rebson. Comrade Svetik. Do not force me to speculate which side you are really on. Keep us secure and safe in the knowledge that you are a trustworthy party member. I am prepared to stand on my record, Comrade Rebson. Your record is good, but it does not include duties as Charmian. Nevertheless... Then give me results. I'm making progress. Results, Svetik, not reports of progress. I want the woman's decision by Wednesday. One way or the other? Either way, if she demers, we blackmail her. We compel her anti-communist husband to explain his communist wife. With such cards, it is impossible to lose, Svetik. See that you do not. Good night. Charmian. I've been trying all day to reach you. They keep on saying it's a drugstore. Well, I use the pay station here for one of my offices, yes. I've got to see you. Tonight, make it? No. Can you come to the apartment? I thought you preferred not seeing me there. Please. Coming right over. Did anybody see you come in, Matt? I waited for the doorman to go off to whistle up a taxi. It's raining again. Not that it matters anymore. The secrecy. Why? My husband came home unexpectedly this afternoon. I knew something was wrong the moment he came in. I thought he wasn't you back from Washington for another week. No. But you and I have been seen together. We're being watched. Shep showed me a letter, unsigned. Naturally. He repeated telephone calls he's been getting about us. Also anonymous, of course. It could be anybody. Things, it's dreadful things. And he believes them? We had a horrible scene. I knew it would happen. I knew it. Did you tell him anything about us? Nothing. That's what's so impossible about it. I can't tell him anything. Shall I tell him you and I are working to betray him? I'm sorry, Sharmin. But there's nothing I can do. You're sorry. There's nothing to be done. You can do something. You've got to do something. You've got to talk to it. It's useless. We'll see. Now, go to that phone. You can force me to the telephone with that gun, Sharmin. But you can't make the right words come when there aren't any. Call Shep. Dial can be 2211. Tell him to meet you here. I'll tell him I'm one of his hated reds. And that I've been talking to you to get you to make him stop red-baiting. That sound good? Yes. When he hears that a week of persuasion and threats haven't moved me, he'll have to believe in me. And then I explained that you were the party's logical instrument because you're his wife and a communist. Vulnerable to threats. Shall I call? No. You see? Want me to take care of that gun? No. Don't worry. But I do worry. And not for myself. My suicide wouldn't help, Shep. There's no way out. Does that mean you're ready to cooperate? You were to see me tonight. Let me think about it until then. Deadline at eight? Eight o'clock. I'll give you my answer. At a quarter of eight, I'm walking toward Sharmin's apartment. A car pulls to the curb and signals me discreetly. The FBI. I get into the car and we bolt away from there and then settle down to a good conversational speed. And I get a jolt that sets my brain whirling. Matt, I've checked through all the available facts about the people concerned in this case. Well, have fun. I'm not. This is something it might shake you. I'm used to it. Shepard Riker, our important Washington figure and vigorous, hard-hitting anti-communist, is a communist. Hmm? Oh, no. Watch it. Well, I'm driving. Shepard Riker, a red? A very active and loyal one. Riker's party efforts are reaching an advanced stage where his wife will have to know his true color and help in his communist activities. Now do you get it? Now, yeah. The party wants to see how loyal Sharmin is to them. You've got it. They figure if she'd betray her husband, who she thinks is an anti-communist, she'd be a safe bet for full party responsibility. It's another test, Matt, a big important one. She can't win. If she disobeys her present orders, she'll be tagged unreliable. Riker will drop her coat. Or she'll play along with the party and find out her idol is a communist. She can't win. That's rough. Well, here's your target for tonight, Matt. Sharmin. Hmm? An odd name until you get used to it. Then you like it. Good luck, Matt. You know, if a man answers, come in anyhow. Yeah. Darling, you have a caller. Dear, you don't believe I've met the gentleman, darling? Mr. Svedi, my husband. I won't say how do you do since by all appearances and intelligences you've been doing very well. Stop it, chef. You've said enough. Matt will tell you that I haven't been deceiving you. Now, who is Matt? This is Mr. Svedi, isn't it? A man can lose a lot of good wives that way, Riker. What way, Svedi? We may be thinking of different ways. Look, Riker, give up. You're making a second-class heel out of yourself in front of a wife who's up to her ears and love with you. Heaven knows why. Why don't you let bad enough alone before you cut yourself down to a first-class heel? Watch it, Mr. I've got a 20-pound edge on you. Watch it yourself, Mr. You may have 20 pounds on me, but a lot of that poundage is blood pressure. You're getting red in the face, son, and it's bad when it shows on you, especially in Washington, D.C. The instant I say it, I know that my anger and my feeling for Charmian and my subconscious has played a nasty trick on me. I'm not supposed to know Riker's a red, but I've said something like it, even as a sort of angry gag. How did you know, Svedi? I'm in an awful spot. How did I know Chef is a red? The FBI. I can't match that fishy stare of his. My eyes glance over toward Charmian. Maybe I understand. Charmian? How did you know? I... I don't know what you mean, Chef. Don't lie to me. Chef, be careful what you say. Answer me! Oh! Oh, you stupid, rotten... No, Matt! This is between Chef and me. And you tell me. How did you know I was in the party? I'm in the party too, darling. I've always known that you're fool. He wouldn't have married you otherwise. How did you know I've been a Communist? Why did you tell him? Answer me! What kind of a party member is it who gives away top party secrets to... to casuals like this Svedic here? She didn't tell me anything. I knew. Okay? You knew. Don't tell me my dear wife has been carrying on behind my back with the FBI. He's a Communist too. You? Svedic's the name, comrade. I thought... I thought only the top echelons in Moscow knew I'm a Communist. Think again. And in particular, think twice before you slug a woman, comrade. It gives the party a black eye. And it gives your wife a bleeding mouth. I'm gonna take my hand because you... Get out, Svedic. Charmian? You better go. This is between my wife and me. We'll talk further at headquarters, comrade. Okay. Now get out! I have to leave if they both tell me to, but I'm in serious trouble. I had to admit to Riker that I'm a Communist to get Charmian off the hook. But when he checked at headquarters and finds out that even Big Shot Revson didn't know he was a comrade, he'll wonder how I knew. And I'm in hot water, but hot. I get into the self-serve elevator. I hear a door slam far away. I sink another story before I realize it was a shot. I press the up button for nine, and then the elevator goes crazy with people on all floors trying to commandeer it. I finally have to settle for the sixth floor and run up the steps to nine. I edge through the crowd at the open door of 902, Riker. Shep is on the floor, and he's dead. Charmian is standing quietly talking to an officer who must have come up the freight elevator. Her mouth is bleeding again, and she has new bruises, and her magnificent hair is tumbled in her gown torn. She sees me pushing forward and stops me with those beautiful, eloquent eyes. She shakes her head slightly for me to keep out of it. She's right. There's nothing I can do. On the street, I slowly realize I'm in the clear. Shepard Riker will never find out from headquarters that nobody, let alone Sevedic, knew Riker was a top communist. Shep pushed his luck and Charmian's love too far. Charmian? Call it a break for her. An obvious case of self-defense. A couple of years, and she ought to be a free woman. Free of the party, too. Out of bondage forever. Charmian Riker, communist sleeper, will wake up one day free. Me? Maybe I'll see you then. Maybe we'll all be free then. Right now, it's no dice. I'm a communist for the FBI. I walk alone. Dana Andrews will return in just a moment. This is Dana Andrews stepping out of the character of Matt Sevedic to tell you that the story you've just heard is far from fiction. Names of characters have been changed in certain incidents disguised to protect innocent people. But what you've just heard is much of the real truth and all of the spirit of what happened. Next week, another adventure of Matt Sevedic who worked undercover for the FBI. You won't forgive yourself when others tell you what you've missed. So don't miss it. Thanks.