IWCF 026 - A Suit for the Party

I was a Communist for the FBI. Starring Dana Andrews in an exciting tale of danger at espionage. I was a Communist for the FBI. From the actual records and automatic experiences of Mathsavetic, how many of the incidents in this unusual story. Here is our star Dana Andrews as Matsavetic two for nine fantastic years lived as a Communist. For the FBI. If you were forced to select a companion from the Communist Party or a bed full of vermin, which would you choose? I had that choice to make once when I was a Communist for the FBI. This story explains why I made the inevitable. Decision in a moment, Listen to Dana Andrew that Mapsavedic under coverman. Now here is Sana Andrew that Mapsometic undercoverman. This story from the confidential file is marked a suit for the party. Comrade Roger Vennon was an important man among the local commis. He was district Committee chairman in charge of Red infiltration into civic welfare groups, but this work accounted for only a portion of his importance. Comrade Grennan attained his true stature as a Red in another more unique manner, a manner to be recommended to all party members like him. On his way to a cell meeting one night, Comrade Grennan simply dropped dead. Hello this is Ripkin. Oh, Hello, comrade. Be ready in fifteen minutes. I'll pick you up in a cab. What's for Where we're going? Where do you think we're going? Idiot? We've got to see Grennan's wife immediately. Missus Grennan, now have a heart Ripken. She just buried her husband. Give her a chance. Never mind the sentimental pap be ready in fifteen minutes. Look, comrade, I think fifteen minutes and exactly fifteen minutes and thirty five seconds. I was in the taxi with Comrade Jacob Ripkins. Ripkin was definitely not the type of may you see in those red propaganda posters. He was no square jawed Apollo, and overall quite the contrary. Rukn was a nervous, hasty faced little man, built like a radish and dusted in adjustable so he was a ranking cell leader in the party. He had the uncanny faculty for making people dislike him on site. His attitude toward the grief stricken widow of the late Comrade Grennan was all too typical. He's mister Riskin. I'd rather not go through my husband's personal things now, maybe later on. A few days. It's imperative that we find the list immediately. I told you I don't know of any lists. Come on, Rukin some other time, Missus Grennan, your husband was on his way to a party meeting when he was stricken. Yes, I know that he was bringing. A list to our committee. He must have had it in his pocket somewhere on his person. I want you to find that list for he. Need not now. I haven't been feeling very well, so maybe I can explain, Missus Grennan. You see this contained the names of party members assigned by your husband to infiltrate certain welfare groups. Really, mister Cedik, I don't care not now. Can't you understand that? I know it's difficult for you, Missus Brennan, that if those names should get out of party hands. FBI for instance, if the FBI or any enemy agency for that matter, learns the names of those comrades, it would mean disaster far cause we need that list, Missus brenneth, I don't. Remember seeing any lists anything like that, really. I what about the suit your husband was wearing. Did you go through the pockets? No? No, of course matter I couldn't. Then with your permission, I'll do it now. Which suit was hearing bone? It's a fit too large for any so much weight. I presume the suit is upstairs? Oh come on, comrade, Not tonight. Yes, please some other time, please don't. We have no intention of leaving until you tell me take where is suit? Missus Grannon. We need the list, need a list. You need a list. You need the list and find the list, find it, find anything you want, just let me alone, send me long long. Now? Then are his close upstairs? His close, Missus Brennan, his clothes were? Are they there? God gone? Where? What happened to them? Take it easy, eryption. Did you give them away, Missus Grennan, to some relatives or friends? Yes? I gave them away, all right? Just closed? Where to whom? Else? Did a funeral? I I didn't want to be reminded? I gave everything away? Will you please make sense, Missus Grennan? Where are your husband's clothes? That list not be in the soup? The brown soup all is susa. I gave them the charity. If we've lost that list, Missus Grennan, we will hold you fully responsible. The Party will launch a campaign of character assassinations that. Will hurt up. Do you know which charity it was, Missus Ginner? The Salvation Army? I guess. That must be it, the Salvation Army. Are you are you sure? I mean, are you sure? It's the Salvation Army charity? You'll have to go to charity for Roger's list. The Communists have to go to charity. Ripkin was paniccked to find that list. As for me, I suffered my own secret desperation. It was my job as an undercover man to locate the list before Ripkin did and turn it over to the FBI. But where does a dead man's brown suit go after it leads to the Salvation Army? Chriskin and I went to the Salvation Army's main depot in that district to find out. Well, sabetic, we have a lead anyway, But I said, we have a lead. The polls are collected here in central the missions on skid Roll. Where the mission on skid Roll? Well, they've got two missions down here, comrade, you know that, don't you? Yes, yes, of course I checked the one on victors feet they haven't received any closing over a week. But let's go to the other. One says, if you're blocks from here. Now, I know you're tired, brethren, I know you're worn and the scourry. But a song, brethren, A song will. Lift your spirit. A song will send your souls aloft. A song will reach the ears of. The almighty, so that he might send the angel of good fortune down to you. You've been accosted by the devil, you man. He is befals your bodies. With hunger and fatigue, but he cannot touch your souls. Brethren. Now sing, then sing with me to the glory of the unclever spirits. Everybody sing, com com com calm the curtile. Everybody lifts your voices. Come homent here. You're sergeant sinking, don't you. Hear you? Wait? Leave John Riskins? Yes, did you want something, gentlemen. Yes, if you'd stop that infernal bleaking. Long enough, We didn't mean to interrupt your services, sergeant. I'll be done shortly. Gentlemen. There's two from the steam table if you like, and perhaps you'll lend us your voices in this next hymn. We don't have time for foolishness, sergeants. What's that? Oh, my friend is a little upset, Sergeant. It's rather an urgent matter. I see. I promised these men here one more song, if you'd be kind enough to wait until it's finnished. Nothing stoping, infernal clanking. Yeah, you're not only being rude, my friend, you're being positively blasphemous. I'm afraid I must. Ask you to leave this mission just a moment, just one moment. Please look, sergeant, I want to apologize for my friend here, and well you might, but as I say, we're we're both pretty upset, and you must be. I think we've got a problem about some clothes. That clothes. Well, you're welcome to. Look through the clothes in the next room, take what fits you, and may the Lord bless you. Both with a little more courtesy. Thank you, sergeant. Come on, the suit may still be there? Find anything common? Oh? Nothing, nothing at all. Static. If I don't find that list, that can full commission. Wait a minute, those charges are there? Ye're down at the bottom of the path where right there? Yes, all these heyway are brown herring bone in good condition. That's it. That's Grinnon's I've seen him wearing it quickly. The pockets anything anything there? Nothing in this one. Oh I didn't hear either, checked them all along of them. Yeah, not in any of the pockets. Coming here, give them to me. Hey, wait, don't do that. It may be in the lighting somewhere you ruin in the trousers. Oh nothing, nothing anywhere that's gone. Oh, this may still be in the jacket. Oh, the jacket's gone to probably in the back of some broken down bum. That's hardly spoken, like a friend of the master's comrade. Oh. These derelicts are typical of the decadence of bourgeois democracy. In the true dictatorship of the proletariat, they wouldn't sing hymns for their suit. They'd work or be liquid it. Yeah, okay, come on, where to Let's start looking for the. Jackets in this concrete jungle down here? Impossible where the try, isn't it? Of course of itsthetic? Why are you so concerns? This is my responsibility. I'm the one who suffer if we fail to find the list. No, Rifkin, the cause will suffer. I'm as interested in that list as you are, maybe even more interested. We explored the concrete jungleist skid Row. Night and day. We took mental inventory of the derelks on every corner, studded the flow of human flotsam in and out of the flop houses. We prowled the alleys, stepping over the defeated forms of homeless men. We wandered in and out of littered doorways, checked the tattoo parlors and ten cent movie houses. We scouted all the shadows of skid Row. But nowhere did we see the brown herringbone jacket. We were so desperate to find. It's no use metic Another day down here and I'll lose my mind. Yeah, because I feel the same way. Hey watch it, don't trip over that old geese's feet. Why I said, care for. I'm useless, old fool, asleep in the doorway. No place else to sleep. I told you to watch where. What's the matter? What are you looking at it? Huh oh? Nothing? Nothing, you know? Come on, that's the matter with Eustic. You seems so much nothing nothing. I'm just getting jumping so many days on skid Row, I couldn't let Rick you know I've seen it. But Eric was Grennan's brown herringbone jacket worn by an old dere lit dozing in a doorway. I had to get back to that man alone. But how how long would he stay asleep in that doorway? And how could I get rid of Ripkin without arousing his Communist trained suspicions? She was sure it had to be done, and I had to do it. How how? How? Now? Back to Dana Andrews starring at mathsabetic and I was a Communist for the FBI and the second act. At our story. The Communist Party can be quite broad minded at times. For instance, it will seldom bear a grudge if a ranking party member dies without official permission, as long as he doesn't leave any incriminating evidence lying around where the FBI might find it. The incriminating evidence Roger Grennan left behind him was now lying in a skid rowed doorway in a jacket worn by eskeeping delic Comrade Ripkin hadn't seen the jacket, but I had, and I had to get rid of Ripkin before it was lost. Again, what's the. Matter with you, asthetics? Suddenly you're as white as a sheet. And I just tired. I guess common You're right, We've. Wasted too much time in this dismal neighborhood. We'll have to divide a more practical plan. Buck, comrade Ripkin, maybe we should work this thing and shift. Well, that might work out. Sure. Look, I'll stay on the job while you were rested up. Then you can relieve me in the morning. Go on, grab that bus across the street. I'll scout around here by myself. What's the rush, Svetik anxious to get rid of me? Oh, don't be a full ripkin. You know it's the most sensible way to handle this chore. Go on, get your bus before it leaves. Just get a bite to eat first time. Start you go miss your bus. There's a bus every ten minutes, I know. But it's foolish to even want out of these joints when you can go on the devil does a matter with you athet? Nothing, nothing at all. Come on, let's eat. We went into the first greasy spoon cafeteria we came to just around the corner, and the old man in Grennon's brown jacket lay asleep in a doorway. But how long would he stay there? Every tick of time was like a trip hammer on an exposed nerve. But my good comrade Jacob Ripkin wanted to relax over his food. I led him to a table near the window, where I could keep an eye on the people who turned the corner, just in case the old man should wake up and take a walk. The meal was miserable and seemed to last for eternities. From time to time I noticed Ripkins studying me carefully. I tried to appear casual, but I guess I wasn't very successful. You're not eating much. Reatach, No, this food isn't exactly the best in town. You know, how would you know you'll spend more time looking out the window than eating. I didn't come here to eat this slop, comrade. I came to look for something vital to the welfare of the party, and that's just what I'm doing. Yes, Sidich, your vigilance is commendable. Perhaps you'd like to tell me what you're staring at now. I couldn't help staring in spite of Ripkin. The old dare licked in. Brenon's brown jacket had just turned the corner. He was shuffling up the street directly toward us. In a moment, he would pass the window, and Ripton would have to be blind, not to see him. Well, comrade, what is it? Oh, it's nothing, really, just thought I saw it. Saw what after all? I'm as concerned is Oh, I'm sorry, comrade. You clumsy idiot. Give me that nap. You've hurry. Oh it's only water. It won't staying. Yeah, let me help you. Never mind, never mind, I'll take care of it. CDI there are times when you're as awkward and stupid as a three year old. I said, I was sorry, Ripkin, No harm done, all right, all right. If I'd known you'd react this way, I never would have had your help me. Oh, forgive me. I guess we're both getting pretty jumpy. Maybe you're right. Let's get out of here. I don't want to miss the next bus. At least the upset glass of water prevented Ripkin from seeing the old man shuffle by the window. Now Ripkin was on the bus and gone, but the old man was gone too. He couldn't have covered too much distance with that slow, uncertain shuffle of his, so I headed up the street after him. Once again, I was scouting the skid row shadows, peering into the windows of dirty little pond shops, tattoo parlors, Pool, halls, but evidently the old man had gone into none of them. I stopped trying to figure which way he might have turned, which doorway might have gobbled him up, But I noticed the only flophouse on his bed in street plaza arms, said the tattered sign. Beds thirty five cents. Unless the old man could vanish into thin air, he'd have to be in there. Yeah, I like a room. Who we've got flaps here, thirty five cents. Do you want to flop? That'll be okay? What's the matter? How come you need a flop? Why not? Man's got to sleep, you know, on the street. Why they're pretty good clues brigglers down here don't wear clothes. Like them lutchm I'm paying for a bed, not a questionnaire. I'm broke. My wife pleaned out the bank account and took off that satisfying. Okay, mister, okay, don't get sore. I just don't want those smart guys annoying my customers. Oh I kind of smart guys cops cops. As though, right, some fire inspectors and help officials. I can't afford no trouble here my customers. They're entitled little flop without trouble. Yeah, oh right, I find my bedair got too empty. Take you to one of them. The place must have been collecting the odors of human deteriorations for years. As I climbed the stairs, I could hear, yeah, the heavy breathing of the sleeping men. Upstairs. There was nothing but a drafty loft, no doors, no heat, just a cracked skylight for ventilation. Obviously it hadn't been opened in months. But smell was even more sickening than it was down below. Through the darkness, I could see five beds lining up against the far wall. Three of them were occupied. I struck a match. A man asleep in the middle bed was the old derelict in the brown herringbone jacket. The poor old guy looked like he was exhausted. He was sprawled on top of the covers, out cold. I checked the pockets of the jacket, praying that he wouldn't wake up. There was nothing in the breast pocket, nothing in either of the side pocket. The inside pocket was empty tool, but I noticed there was a hole in it. I used my pocket knife to rich the lining. The noise flit the silence like a scream. The old man stirred. He was quiet again. I reached him and felt around inside the jacket lining. My fingers closed on a piece of folded paper, the list Grennon's list of party spies working in civic welfare. Goops. Now to get out of this musty hole and turn the evidence over to the FBI before. I don't know he suspected me, after all, the trusting soul of a train. I looked around and panic a back door, a closet, a fire escape, anything to hide before rip Can saw me. He was practically up the stairs. Now that was only one thing for me to do. I jumped into one of the empty cots and huddled in crawling blankets. I knew he was looking for me, but the darkness was in my favor. I held my breath, wondering how long it would be before he discovered me. I heard him strike a match. He was looking at the man in the first bed. He was at the second bed. Now I began to understand how Goldilocks felt when she heard the three bears come home. But Goldilocks wasn't sleeping in a stale, vermin infested flophouse. Cut Ripkin had another match going. He was headed for the third bed now the bed next to mine. Eh, no wonder he'd seen the old man in Grinnon's brown jacket. I picked out from under the covers and saw Ripton buck to his knees and start rifling the sleeping man's pockets. There's alright, now just a minute. There's a mistake. He forces his way up pairs and now we touch them, picking the customers perfect, Well, we sleep. Come on, buddy, come on, tell them to take you. Look off so I haven't taken anything from anyone I was. Come on, you're waking everybody up. You're up to look this old guy's check and he's like to light in the even he's out of his mind after I didn't. I had no idea that you had no idea what I got ideas? I got some pretty crummy ideas about you. I come on, this is an outbreak. The old fool is tight to shut up. A management can't go back to sleep. Okay, ither learn that time not to go barging in orry. Ain't good morning? Oh you get early? Don't You didn't hardly light yet? Yeah? Hey, have you got an envelope? I can? It was I got to mail something to a friend here's this. Okay, that's fine. Thanks. So I'm sorry about that. Rumpus said he didn't want to stirt. No, don't worry about it. I guess he had a comment to him. So you know something, Hannigan the cop, he'd come back later, and you know what he told me? What that ties not only a pick pocket, he's a big shot communist. But shall a right will take care of him? Yeah, they probably will. Can you imagine them reds? They're able to turn up anywhere, that's right, chum, anywhere. I walked down the street to the corner and mailed the list of party names to the FBI. Then I looked back at that skid row flophouse last night. I'd been given a choice, a bed full of vermin or comrade ripton. The choice was obvious. I turned the corner and walked away. Two broken down derelicts trudged past me, defeated men walking together. No homes, no hope, no dreams. But they walked together while I I walk alone.