 I was a communist for the FBI. 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 Sevettik, come many of the incidents in this unusual story. Here is our star, Dana Andrews as Matt Sevettik, who for nine fantastic years lived as a communist for the FBI. A traitor is a miserable thing, even to himself. During those nine long, endless years I spent as a communist for the FBI, the overwhelming feeling of treachery never left me. And yet you, mister, never seem to feel a thing. Maybe you ignored it because of your sense of fair play. Maybe the wind of red propaganda confused you. Whatever the cause, ignorance, or indifference, this attitude is dangerous. I want you to hear my story. It's the story of communism. In a moment, listen to Dana Andrews as Matt Sevettik, under cover man. This story from the confidential file is marked, The Red Gate. You lost no time getting here, comrade Sevettik. I don't like to keep cell leaders waiting, comrade Miller. Especially when I'm told they want to see me immediately. This is a matter of great importance. Your success or failure on this mission may mean the success or failure of the party at a future date. Go on. These recent wholesale defection and exposures of party members have cost us the services of some of our most valuable people. Members who were in excellent positions for sabotaging war plans, power, and communication. That's a serious loss. Your mission is to replace those people with others who are entirely unknown to the FBI. Recruiting trustworthy people isn't an overnight job, comrade. This is not recruiting comrade Sevettik. Our replacements are waiting below the Mexican border. Your assignment is to get them across that border into this country. Alone? You'll have all the help you need when you get to the West Coast. When do I leave? Even I won't know until I pick up your tickets. New York made the arrangements. Afraid of possible information, leaks, eh? Obviously. Go to your hotel and get your things together. I'll bring your tickets there within the next hour. This is Sevettik. I'm in a phone booth. I'm going to the West Coast. Maybe this afternoon, maybe tonight. Super secret. Sounds like it. It's a big project bringing strangers across the Mexican border. Going along? Until I reach the coast, I don't know where I'll be put down. I'll see you later. After arranging for my West Coast FBI contact, I hurry to my room and throw some things into a bag. I've just flopped on my bed and stretched out for a little rest when comrade Millar arrives with some disquieting news. Our West Coast people are handling this comrade Sevettik under the direction of the MVD. If they have reason to believe that enemy agents are making their periodic checks of airports, you'll be taken off your plane somewhere en route. How will I make the contact? Your plane makes several stops. At each stop, you ought to get out to stretch your legs. A party member approaching you, wherever it may be, will say, it was certainly a red sunset last night, wasn't it? Your reply will be, I didn't notice, really. I didn't notice, really. Right. Here's your ticket, comrade Sevettik. I'm Diego and your plane leaves in 35 minutes. I'll drive you to the airport. When Millar stays at my side until I board the plane and stands watching until we take off. So I have no chance to notify the FBI of the possibility of my leaving the plane before it reaches the West Coast airports that they're watching. Following orders, I get out at each stop, but no attempt is made to contact me. I'm beginning to relax. Then, as the plane circles the field at Albuquerque, a man sitting next to me speaks. It was certainly a red sunset last night, wasn't it? It's seconds before I realize the significance of what he said. Then I managed to stammer. I didn't notice, really. Take your bag when you get off this time. Right. Walk to the airport parking lot and wait for me at the entrance. I'm comrade Colmer. You're under my orders. I'm under comrade Colmer's orders. There's nothing unusual about that, but instinctively I tighten up. I don't like this guy, and I can feel that he doesn't like me. I don't know why, but I can sense the hate in him. Hate for me, personally. It's still there when he joins me at the airport parking lot and we get in a car to drive to Los Angeles. He says nothing, just looks at me out of the corner of his eye now and then. Finally, hours later, after we've passed through Needles, California, and are starting across the Mojave Desert, he speaks, but there's no information or comfort for me in anything he says. You're doing a lot of thinking, comrade Senator. You didn't seem to want to talk. This is an important project. Yeah. If nothing goes wrong, we'll have this country flooded with people the FBI has never heard of. Train people who can stop production for weeks whenever we get the order. We've got to get them across the border first. That's why we're here, you and I. It's believed that we're not known to the FBI, at least on the West Coast. So that's why I was chosen for the assignment? Only partially. I asked for you specifically, comrade Zivetti. Oh, it's very flattering in as much as we've never met. My brother spoke very highly of you once. Your brother? He was with you on one of your less successful missions. Oh. There was an information leak somewhere, comrade Zivetti. My brother wasn't as lucky as you. I miss him greatly. Are you trying to blame me for whatever happened to your brother? I'm making no formal charges, comrade. I'm merely warning you. Make certain that nothing goes wrong on this mission. Because on this project, I'm making you my special project for purely personal reasons. This makes it really tough. Comrade Kolma isn't just a naturally suspicious MVD man. He's an MVD man who lost his brother on a mission and blames me for it. We don't exchange another word until we reach Los Angeles and enter the house of comrade Walters. You had trouble finding my place, comrade? A little, comrade Walters. Too bad. But so have the FBI. That is good. You have orders for comrade Zivetti and me? Yeah. But first, I must explain the operation to you. Oh, sit down, comrade Zivetti. Thanks, comrade. Now, we can thank the Americans themselves for the mechanics of this operation. It is an underground railway. And we're helping slaves, too. Spoken like a true communist comrade Zivetti. What is the meaning of this, comrade Kolma? Nothing. You two dislike each other? How could we? We only met on the plane coming out here. And take a listen between you two. Could you feed the whole project? I saved my antagonism for the enemy. Good, good. And you, comrade Kolma. Look, why don't we quit talking and get out of business, huh? Who is in charge here, comrade Kolma? You are, comrade Walters. Then I will handle this in my own way without any comment from you. Yeah, of course, comrade. Well, then, it's good we understand each other. Now, from Oceanside North, I have arranged for stations in this underground railway. What do you mean by stations, comrade? Buildings, attic cellars, where after you get them that far, our people can rest and keep out of sight until we can manufacture the proper identifications and move them into the desired jobs. Has it taken a lot of work, comrade Walters? Yeah, on patients, comrade Svetik. Some of our underground station masters have required considerable persuading. Oh. Look, what do we commit to this, comrade? You are impatient, aren't you, comrade Kolma? Sorry, never mind. I was coming to that anyway. Because I do not speak exactly English like an American, I have made no attempt to establish stations between the border and Oceanside. Now, this must be established under anxious in the back country. You and comrade Svetik must handle those. You have a plan, I suppose, comrade. Yeah, I have a plan for everything, comrade. Now, I have here a map. Here, these circles indicate ranches without telephones, ranches where the owners have been very tolerant about Mexican wetbacks. Posting as ranches from Northern California, you and comrade Kolma will approach these southern ranches asking for help in shoving a bunch of wetback laborers north for you. Now, most of them feel sorry for the Mexicans anyway and will be glad to cooperate. And those who don't, we remind of their previous crimes. Exactly. Now, after you have completed arrangements for the ranches, which should not take more than two days, you will proceed to Tijuana, Mexico. I will meet you there in the Hotel Rosario. For two days, comrade Kolma and I drive the back roads of San Diego County, seeing nothing but ranches, reservations, and rattlesnakes. And comrade Walters has the ranches pegged right. Of course, we promise that the wetbacks will do a day's labor for each rancher who gives them shelter and that we'll pay for it at the other end of the line. It's a good deal for everybody. Even comrade Kolma acts almost human. And when we report to comrade Walters at the Hotel Rosario in Tijuana, he's happy about the whole thing, almost. You have done very well, comrades. Now, what's our next move? To send our people back over the route you have just followed. Unfortunately, we must wait a few days. Why? The border patrol has been suddenly unaccountably reinforced. It is very strange. An information leak? Possibly. However, according to an informant who loitered near the border patrol station at the Tijuana Gate, they are searching for a missing FBI undercover man. Starring as Matt Severic, an eye was a communist for the FBI and the second act of our story. For a missing FBI undercover man. And comrade Walters says that I want to yell, dance and sing. And it must show in my face because suddenly I realize that comrade Walters and comrade Kolma are both staring at me curiously. You react strangely to this unfortunate situation, comrade Stretik. Strangely, how do you mean? A suspicious man might think you're pleased by the search. Oh, no. As a matter of fact, I am pleased. Yeah, I thought so. And why are you pleased, comrade Stretik? Because any time an FBI undercover man is missing, comrade, you and I have one less rep to worry about. And that is one way of looking at it. This isn't going to change our plans, is it? It might. This requires thought. Plenty. And in order to think, I must eat. I could stand something myself. Then you go get some sandwiches, comrade. All right. What kind of one? Oh, it makes no difference just so there's plenty of them. Okay. God, you stay here, comrade Kolma. I need someone to talk to, to bounce ideas against. Because you are naturally disagreeable, you will argue and make me think. Comrade Stretik will get the sandwiches. This is the break I've been playing for. A chance to get away from comrade Kolma. A chance to contact the FBI if I can just get to a phone. Then as I spot a phone booth and head toward it, I have a hunch. Wolters may have been giving Kolma a lot of conversation. They may be checking up on me. I turn around and head back toward the hotel and bump right into comrade Kolma. What? Why don't you look where you... Well, comrade Kolma. I was just coming back to the room. Oh. Where are the sandwiches? Well, I didn't get them yet. You didn't tell me whether you wanted yours with or without. You're pretty clever, comrade Stretik. Clever? You fool, Wolvers, completely. I hear what you're saying, comrade, but it doesn't mean anything. At least to me. But it will someday because I'm not cool. Someday, comrade, you're going to make a slip. And when you do, I'll be there. I know right then that there's no pretend about comrade Kolma. This is one in B.D. Goon who can take it as well as dish it out. I'm not ready for his showdown, so I turn and go back to the hotel room where comrade Wolters is waiting. Where are the sandwiches, comrade? Oh, I forgot about them. I forgot about the sandwiches. But that is what you went out for. Sure, but when I bumped into my shadow, I forgot all about them. Kolma, stupid. Look, comrade Wolters, if you don't think I'm right for this assignment, if you don't trust me, take me off it. Send me home. But I do trust you like a comrade. You just have more faith in Kolma? Now why should you think that? There's no one out following him around. I was not following you, comrade. That's his idea. I wonder. You doubt my word, comrade? No, no, I was just wondering. I've never seen comrade Kolma before this mission, and yet he seems awfully anxious to get me out of the way. A little overzealous, maybe. Yeah, maybe. Maybe not. What are you driving at, comrade? Wouldn't it help an FBI undercover rat if he could drive a wedge between you and me? You think Kolma is the missing... Oh, no, no, comrade Sretik. You are letting your anger talk. Come on. Where are we going? To an old deserted mine a few miles out in the desert east of here. 23 of our people are hiding there. 23? Yeah, all of them keep production personnel and experts saboteurs. Comrade Wolters does not engage in small projects. I didn't realize how very important you must be, comrade. I am useful. Now let us be on our way, comrade Sretik. What about Kolma? He gave you something to think about. Leak if him something to think about. Come along. We drive out to the mine over a road that had brigger rattlesnakes back and callous its belly, rough, tough and twisting. And when comrade Wolters leads me into the mine tunnel where our people are waiting, I get a real surprise. At least half of them are blue-eyed blondes. When we get back outside, I mention this to comrade Wolters. What of it, comrade? The color of a man's eyes or hair cannot lessen his value to us? How many blond blue-eyed Mexicans do you know, comrade Wolters? I don't know, but there must be some. Possibly, but those ranchers won't be expecting to see them. And if they do, they'll talk about it. Yeah, I had not thought of that. You've been busy with bigger problems. Yeah, much bigger, comrade. But one little slip like this could cost us the entire project. Yeah, sure. I am glad they thought of it in time. How do we fix it? Dye their hair and stain their skins. If they look dark enough and keep their heads down, their eyes may not be noticed. Where do we get to dye and stain? I'll have to make inquiries after we get back to Tijuana. We drive back to the hotel and find comrade Colmar waiting for us. He's ready to blow his top. But comrade Wolters is on my side now. While you were out running around the town, comrade Sretik was with me working on the project. Did you do anything to help the cause, comrade Colmar? He doesn't even give Colmar a chance to answer. Instead, he orders me to go out and get the stain and dye we need to make our blond comrades look like brunette Mexicans. In this time, comrade Sretik, you won't be followed. I promise you that. Now maybe I have a chance. The first drugstore I go into has the stain and dye that I need. But I don't want to buy it in the first store. I want to attract attention, hoping that the border patrol too has its informers. And that one of them will report that an American is trying to buy stain and dye that'll make him look like a Mexican. I cover the town, taking plenty of time, but no one follows me. Finally, I go back to the first store and buy the stuff I'm after. It makes a pretty good-sized package, and as I step out into the street, I shift it from one hand to the other. As I do, a guy steps up to me. Got a match? All right, I think so. Wait till I shift this package. You always shift things you're carrying from one hand to the other? Shift things from one hand to the other. Then I remembered. When you get off the plane, shift your bag from one hand to the other. This is the recognition sign the FBI gave me before I left home. I grin before I answer. Usually I do when I get off plane, and we missed you. Not half as much as I missed you. It was a smart move making a conspicuous buy on that stuff. I was afraid to phone. What's the setup? Twenty-three trained saboteurs in an old deserted mine a few miles east. Going across is Mexican wetbacks as far as Oceanside. The red underground railway takes over from there. When do they move? It hasn't been decided yet. The reinforced border patrol has scared them. Okay, we'll contact you through Walters. Walters? Is he on our side? No. But we have people who give him information we want him to have. Only the next information will be for you. Before I can mention that Walters has informants who are not working for the Bureau, the agent breaks the contact by walking into the crowded store and never looking back. Now I'm worse off than I was before. The Bureau will be sending me information, but Walters will be getting other information, and I won't know which is which. I'm in a great spot to lose my neck. And when I get back to the hotel room, I can see that Colmar has been working on Walters again. You took plenty of time, Comrade Svetik. It isn't easy to buy large quantities of this stuff without arousing suspicion, Comrade Walters. What makes you think you were successful? What makes you think I wasn't? The Border Patrol was informed that an American was buying stain and dye to make him look like a Mexican. When did you hear that? When you were out shopping, or whatever it was you were doing. Here are the packages. They're going to have to move fast, Comrade Svetik. You give the orders, I'll follow them. They're going out to the mine immediately. We will make up our people to look like Mexicans and go across the border tonight. Tonight? There will be no moon. We will start as soon as it is dark. But what about the Border Patrol? Well, you and I were gone this afternoon, Comrade Colmar was working too. Well? Yeah. I was able to enlist the services of several experienced Mexicans. Men who've made the trip across the border many times. They will eat our parties. The contact came too late. The FBI will never be able to get information to me, and I can't get word to them. I get panicky, as I realize that the only thing standing between a mob of red saboteurs and their dirty jobs is me, Matt Svetik. We drive out to the mine and stain the faces and dye the hair of our comrades. Finally it's dark, and the Mexican Guides Colmar has arranged for. Come to pick us up. There are seven of us in your... Just bleak your party into equal groups, and we will get started. Split them up, Colmar Svetik. Do we go in the same party, Comrade Walters, or do we three split up too? We are not going with them, Comrade Svetik. Why not? Why should we? They came across the border openly. They will go back the same way. But if there's trouble, will these people be able to work their way out of it? Maybe you are right. Maybe we should go with them, Comrade Svetik. What do you think, Comrade Colmar? Wherever Comrade Svetik goes, I'm going too. After hiding our car in an old shed where it won't attract attention, we head to the border, single file, to cross at a spot where our Guides issuer is perfectly safe. We've walked and slipped and stumbled over about three miles of desert when the leader of our entire party passes between two close-set rocks and disappears, followed by the others. By Comrade Walters' orders, I'm the last man in the last group guarding against strays and stragglers, and as I pass through the opening in the rocks, a Mexican pulls me into the shadows and whispers, yell out to the Comrades, I think this is a trap, then run back through those rocks. Who are you? A friend. You're not the only ones who can use that stain and die. And before they get suspicious, yellow warning to them and get out. Comrade Svetik. Oh, yes, Comrade Walters? What are you doing? Why aren't you here? Yep, you're warning. Well, I think this is a trap, Comrade. What? I think this is a trap. I'm getting out of here. Follow me. Hey, stop it, stop it, man! Hey, stop it! It's right on the bottom. Stop it! Oh, Matt, that cleans it up. Yeah, those Mexicans certainly had me fooled. They fooled Comrade Colmer, too. If he hadn't gotten in touch with him, well, we'd never have known you were moving out. They don't like spies and saboteurs any better than we do, huh? Not a bit. In fact, it was one of those boys who settled Colmer's hash when he was trying to knock you off. What happens with Walters? He's being deported. Incidentally, when he refuses to give us your name, he speaks very highly of you, and taunts us with the way you escaped our trap. Comrade Walters admired me. Spy, saboteur, possible murderer. He admired me. While my brothers and sisters, loyal Americans grew cold and distant when I entered their room. For nine long years, this was my choice. To be shunned by those I loved and served, or to be admired by those I detested, I couldn't face up to either choice. So I chose to walk alone. Crews will return in just a moment. This is Dana Andrews. Although you may not see any surface indications, the tempo of the Cold War is rising. At the moment, it's a silent, bitter undercover struggle, and in that silence lies our greatest danger. If we feel that we can relax, we can. To protect innocent persons, the names, dates, and places you've heard mentioned are fictitious. But there's nothing fictitious about the danger. Next week, we'll bring you another strange adventure based on the fantastic experiences of Matt Svedic. Join us, won't you?