 I was a communist for the FBI. Starring Dana Andrews in an exciting tale of danger and espionage, I was a communist for the FBI. From the actual records and authentic experiences of Matt Severick, how many of the incidents in this unusual story? Here is our star Dana Andrews as Matt Severick, who for nine fantastic years lived as a communist for the FBI. An oriental proverb says, he who rides on a tiger cannot dismount. For nine jittery years, I rode the red tiger of communism in America while it stalked our freedoms. It was worth my life to dismount, but finally I did. This is one of the stories of that long, grim ride. In a moment, listen to Dana Andrews as Matt Severick, undercover man. Dana Andrews as Matt Severick, undercover man. This story from the confidential file is marked The Pit Viper. I'm Matt Severick. Yeah, I'm hungry. Let's stop someplace and eat. I known for the communist international, soon. Do you really think so, Comrade Repchenko? Some things must still be done. For example, we must see that factory whistles stop blowing regularly in America. Does that mean we must assume command of labor? Here's the lunch room. We must talk. What about, Comrade? The care and feeding of factory whistles, Comrade. So to summarize, the... is a long strike. The Union is about to reach an understanding with the management. That must not happen. I'll do my best. You will not do your best, Comrade Severick. You will do what has to be done. I'll leave for Kirkland tonight. Comrade Simon Horvath understands such matters as inciting to riot and other mob violence, where it will do the most good. He will drive with you to Kirkland. I'll need help. You are too hesitant at nothing. How do you mean? You are a deputy sheriff in this county? You're just sort of an honorary thing. It just keeps me on call to stamp out brush fires and dry weather. But you are permitted to own a revolver. Yes. Have it with you in Kirkland. You'll leave tonight. This is Freeman. I'm going to Kirkland tonight. What do I do? Play it straight? I can't do a thing while the commies stay within the law. I've been told to carry a gun in Kirkland. This is the point where you'll be expected to use that gun. Call me in. We'll move in. All right. Good luck. It's a wonderful night to drive, Comrade Simon. I'm not worried about that. But strikers don't enjoy picketing in the rain. These Kirkland shamos will be more anxious than ever to settle this strike. We'll fix that all right, though. Yeah? How? Those hundred hot lunches I ordered by telephone in Kirkland. Pass them out to the pickets. I see. Nothing like a hot meal to keep the hotheads hot. I like these deals. This is going to be fun. Two hours in the monotonous rain brings us to the grimy tipple standing starkly against the muddy sky. A struck mining region in the dead of a nasty night is the last word in desolation. I feel it chill and I shiver. A revolver in my shoulder holster is cold and heavy. I look forward to a warm place to sleep. And then Simon's car begins to feel the weather. Now what? Water in the carburetor is something I don't know. No, wait. You better stop here while the stopping's good. You mean while the initiative is still with us. And what's here? Like a miner's house. I'll call a garage. Wow. Do that, Junior. I'll wait in the car. I'm sorry about the hour, but do you have a telephone so I could call a garage? We're having some trouble with the car and it's a pretty bad night. Oh, come here. I hate to be a nuisance. Oh, it's all right. I was up reading. At 1 a.m.? You call the operator and she'll get you to the garage. There's only one in town. Maybe she could kill two birds and get us a hotel, too. Elsa, what is it? Papa, you go right back to bed. Who is so lame? Oh, this gentleman's car stalled in the rain. I'll go back to bed. This fella? No, I'm putting everybody to a lot of inconvenience. I'm pretty good automobiles. No, Papa. I wouldn't hear of it. It's easy. You've had enough rain on the picket. Strong like a knife. Now please let me call a garage. Oh, I'm sure the operator will get you the hotel, too. Hotel? You stay here. Such a bad night. Plenty room. Oh, no, no. Sure. Give you good breakfast, too. No charge. No, it's just out of you, but... You stay in Barney's room. Long time nobody in Barney's room. How old you are? 35. Why? Like Barney. You stay. No, but I'm with another man, there's two of us. You see, Papa? I sleep on couch down here. No, sorry. Thanks anyhow. That's final. Now get back to bed before you catch another chip, Papa. She called me Papa. No, Papa. I'm Barney's Papa. I'd better telephone the garage. Miss... Mrs. Utke. Mrs. Barney Utke. Or rather, Mrs. Elsa Utke now. Oh, I'll use your phone. And maybe you could drive me to my own house, then. It's on the way into town. I'd be very happy to. Thank you. I'd better phone. The garage car arrives and pretty soon we're driving Elsa Utke to her dingy little house. Good night. Thank you, etc. We drive away, but she disturbs me. A fine-looking woman, educated and alone. A widow. A mine accident, explosion, cave-in. In any case, Barney, her husband, is dead. And it's sort of too bad. We're lucky. We get a decent room in the little hotel in town. In the morning, Simon and I at the tip of Great Turk number three mine, passing out hot lunches and propaganda in the rain and black mud. To thankful miners. And to some silent and suspicious ones. Here you are, friend. Compliments are the friends of American mine workers. Mass meeting tonight in Workman's Hall, 8 o'clock. Notice inside the box. Come on, then. A pocket of guys, aren't they? Give them credit. They know we must have an angle handing out free lunches. All right, let's try this big clown. Good morning, friend. Oh, hi, Utki. Hello. Hello. You've broken the automobile, fella. Hello, hello. This is my partner, Simon Horvath. Mr. Utki. Hello. Yeah, yeah. You sure you ought to be picketing in this rain, Utki? Sure. Strong like a horse. My elves are gonna bring me hot soup anyhow, maybe. Well, this hot lunch is no maybe. Warm me up for the fight on our hands. Fight? Then win, minor. Mass meeting tonight. Workman's Hall at 8. The full dope is inside the box. I'd be there, sure. But no fight, you hear? That's the only way to get what's coming to you. Sure, sure. Fight. Get knock on the head. Get killed. Like Barney. Like my boy. No. No. Here comes our dame we took home last night. You mean Elsa Utki? So she's got a fancy face and can talk. So what? She's too smart. Let's go. Don't forget the meeting, Utki. You've been on strike for five weeks now. And what are you settling for? Six lousy pennies a load. Go back to work for that, and you're selling your American birthright for that well-known mess of potting. Sign up with the friends of American miners, and we'll get you three times that, three times. How we know this? You're out of order, Utki. You ought to learn. We're the workers. This guy, Utki, is gonna be troublemat. Who are you anyhow? Who you come tell us what to do, huh? We're your friends. If you can't fight for your rights, we're here to line you up in a real organization with teeth. We don't want different union. We want peace. No more strike. Go back to work like living. Men? Men, I beg of you. Take it over. See it our way and fight. I lose my boy when I apply that in my fight, in our fight. Unbended knee, men. Unbended knee for your own good. That's all, men. God bless you. Men, you stay awhile. I'd like to talk to you good. He's troubled. But he's important. He's our spokesman. He's liable to have a serious accident one of these nights. Look, comrade, let me handle Utki. Okay. This is Freeman. Telephone booth and hotel lobby here. Grim going up ahead at the mass meeting tonight. Somebody's coming. I'll call later so long. Simon. What you doing on the phone booth there, Svedik? Can't I telephone? Can't you telephone from upstairs in the room? No. No. Look, the party doesn't have to go on my dates with me, does it? What's the name, Dame? Elsa. Elsa Utki. I'm going out with her tonight. Okay. You better get started. It's pretty late. I'm on my way. I'm going that way. I'll drive you over. All right. It isn't for her. I'll walk. It's pouring. Isn't there a taxi service in town? Svedik, you rich is something. I'll drive you over. All right. Fine. Thanks a lot. Fine. What's he? She might be getting dressed. It's pretty late on. I'm a communist for the FBI and the second act of our story. It's plain, but I have to use your telephone. Oh, you're welcome to it. Of course. There. Well, do you mind? It's rather private. Oh, I'll wait in the next room. Long distance, please. Come in again. I'm calling from a private telephone now. Go on. Look, there's a miner down here, sort of a head man with the boys. He lost his son in one mine riot and doesn't want any more violence. He wants the men to go back to work and my sidekick doesn't like it. Simon Horvath, that is, huh? Yeah. I don't know if I can keep him under control. You think you might knock off this miner? I don't know. I'll tell you, you can come in now. Does anything good matter? You look like bad news when you're knocked at the door. Well, yes. Should I be sympathetic? No, not at all. Thanks for letting me use your telephone. Good night, Mrs. Yuki. Oh, wait. Waiting. Why, why did you ask to use my telephone? I needed a private wire. There are other private phones. Why mine? Why? Yes. Now, let's say I made a cheap boast. Let's say that I pretended to my partner that I, I had a date with you. A date with me? That's what I told him. Why? Private reasons. What if... It probably means more than I meant it to when I said it. That's rather involved, isn't it? Well, that's because I'm rather involved. Whatever that means. Elsa. Elsa? Don't you get involved? Now I know what you mean. Maybe it's blunt, my saying it, in vain, but... No, it isn't. Blunt or vain. Just kind. From someone from whom you didn't expect much human feeling? I just felt you were here to make trouble. The last time you people came here, you started a riot. My husband was killed. It was murder. Nothing less. They did it so that they could say company's strong arm men did it. They were communists. And you think I'm a communist? Denied, if you like. You reds always deny it. And there's no use in my denying it, is there? Elsa! Elsa! You shouldn't be here. He despises your kind. Elsa, I go by mass meeting now. Miners, we talk... Hello. Elsa. What this fellow does in my Barney's house? He's in some sort of trouble, Papa. He wanted to use the telephone. What these communists do in my son Barney's house? Has this 40 killed Barney? So he come into Barney's house monkey Barney's wife, huh? Papa, he didn't kill Barney. Communists same like other fellow, same thing. Papa, please. You, sneak fellow. You dirty communist. I show you. Stop, no. Papa, let him go. Let him go. You're joking. I show you. I give you big hello, huh? Papa, let him go. Elsa. Make a mistake. A mistake, I hit her. It's nice of water, okay? Come on, get on it. Yeah, yeah, yeah. I make a mistake. I get water, yeah. Elsa. It's all right. Just like her a moment. Who could yard you with his elbow? He didn't mean to. I'm all right. Well, just take it easy, well. How she is, huh? How she looked now, huh? Let's have the water. Elsa, I don't know how it happens. I'm fine, Papa. Sure? Just hit me up a little, please. I'm around my shoulder, so. That's it, that's it. I'll sit here. Thank you. It was an accident, Elsa. I'm sorry. Of course, Papa. I'm sorry. Forget about it. You, you let me go meeting now. Of course. What meeting? I call meeting again. I talk to the men. They got to go back to work. I make them. I holler at them good tonight. You see, you see. Good luck, Papa. Oh, I don't know. I try hard. I don't know. Don't worry, Papa. Go to the meeting. Yeah. Yeah. I go. All right. I'd better go, too. I'm sorry there was a scene. Well, thanks for interfering when you did. He wouldn't really have hurt you. He was making pretty nice progress. Well, thanks. Bye. Will I get that for you? No. I'm fine now. Hello? It's very important for me to locate Stanley Butkie. Is he there? No. He just left for Workman's Hall for a mass meeting. Who's this? Hello? Who is it? Hello? It doesn't matter. I know who it is. It's your fine friend. My friend? You told him Butkie went to the hall. Did I? I don't... Yes, maybe I did. I've got to go after him. Why? Never mind. I've just got to go after him. Matt. Yeah? Be careful. I slog across the black sticky fields in a dreary downpour toward Workman's Hall. If Simon Horvath is looking for Big Stan Butkie, he means no good. And I don't know how many of his goons have been standing by. The lights of the hall begin to glow dimly through the rain. Has Butkie arrived there yet? Ah! Butkie. He hasn't arrived, but the goon squad has. Sure as grass, knuckle sure as sandbags. I start running and almost pitch headlong into a battle in the dark. Horvath! Pull off! Cut it out! You're making a mistake! Something hits me in the mouth and I go down, tasting blood. Heavy milling feet stamp over me. Then I hear another voice from the direction of the hall. Simon Horvath is poured across the field and pull up on Simon Horvath's goon man. And I crawl out of there while the getting is good. I'm taping up my wounds in our hotel room when Simon Horvath comes in. The comrade is quite a mess. Quite a mess. You're a sorry sight, Simon. Shut up! I told you I'd take care of Butkie. Why did you have to step in and foul things up? Because you weren't taking care of Butkie, that's why. I'd been working on him, making him see things our way. I was talking to him tonight, just before you called Elsa's house. You... You were? Yes, I was. Check with Elsa. You want help? Will she talk to a communist? Look, I had Butkie convinced that the men should stay out. He was going to the hall tonight to tell him it was a fight to the finish. You're a liar! I'm a liar? Let's see if I'm a liar. Hello, operator? It's a big and a dangerous bluff. I'm counting on Elsa, Butkie's wit. And her need to believe in somebody. Even somebody she thinks may be a red. And then her voice is on the wire and that bluff is on. Hello? Elsa, this is Matt Sverik. Oh. How is Mr. Butkie? A badly beaten up. I've just come back from the emergency clinic. Will he be all right? Yes. Elsa, there's a man here with me who doesn't believe that I had Butkie convinced that the miners should stay out on strike. Will you correct him? Your communist friend? Yes. Put him on. Comrade? Hello? Hello? Your comrade says is true. Okay. Let me speak to him again. If you want to speak to you again. Helter? I lied for you. Thanks. Somehow, somehow I think you are not really one of them. But someday you will see the truth and leave them. I hope so. That is why I lied for you. Goodbye, Matt. Well, that's it, comrade. You're in trouble. I was doing my job. What do you mean in trouble? You've made a martyr out of Butkie. You've turned him against us again. The men will go back to work for his sake now. Nice work, comrade. Look, Matt, we... We're pretty good friends, aren't we? The party comes first. Yeah, yeah, I know, sure, but... I'll have to turn you in for party discipline. Matt, look at it. Sorry, comrade. The next morning, sure enough, the men go back to work and Simon and I sneak out of town, go back. And comrade Simon Horvath faces the grim party discipline. I claim that victory. Horvath and I sneak out of the hotel one at a time, afraid even to call a taxi. Alone, I hit the wet highway. I hear Elsa Butkie's warm, Slavic voice again. I'd for you. And I feel good again. And then I hear... Goodbye, Matt. And that hurts. Goodbye. But that's how it is. And that's how it will always be. As long as I'm a communist for the FBI, I walk alone. Our star, Dana Andrews, will return in a moment. This is Dana Andrews. The story you've just heard is based on notes from the files of Matt Svettik, FBI undercover man. Names have been changed and events modified for obvious reasons. Next week, another exciting adventure out of Matt Svettik's experience as a communist for the FBI. So be with us then. We're expecting you.