The Prepper Broadcasting Network - IWCF 019 - The Red Record

Episode Date: April 1, 2026

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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. The story you are about to hear is based on the actual records and authentic experiences of Matt Savatic, who for nine fantastic years lived as a communist for the FBI. Here is our star, Dana Andrews, as Matt Savetic. Nine years.

For nine long years, I played my part, like walking a tightrope in a circus. But if I fell, there wasn't going to be any net to save me. It's a lonesome, thankless job, trying to be a communist for the FBI. In a moment, listen to Dana Andrews as Matt Savatic, undercover man. As Matt Savetic, undercover man.

This story from the confidential file is marked the red record. I went to a meeting of my communist cell. It was Tuesday, 9 p.m. There were six of us there. Four men, two women. We went through all the reports, propaganda, the directors, and then Comrade Ted, the leader of our cell, had a word to say. Just keep this in mind, comrades.

The party expects nothing impossible just to do what you're told. I think that's all. Good night. Oh, comrade, Matt. Wait just a second, will you? Oh, me? Sure. Stunt.

That's common. Have you ever been in Chicago? Passed through a couple of times, that's all. You've got any connections there, relatives? Anybody there's... know you? Not that I know of. Okay. You know, comrade, you're a pretty good-looking guy, and that isn't going to do any harm on the job we've got for you. What job? The central committee decided, from what I told them about you, but you're the comrade to handle this follow-up.

I don't understand. You don't have to understand. All you have to do is obey orders. Okay, what are my orders? Pack a bag full of clothes and be at the information desk at the union station at 1 a.m. Four hours from now. Where am I going? Don't worry about it. Then, uh, how long will I be gone? Who knows, Comrade?

Maybe forever. Comrade Ted gave me some money for expenses, and then we walked out to the street together. At the corner, we parted. Well, see you again, comrade. See you again, comrade. That's something that drives you crazy when you're supposed to be a communist

and you're working for the FBI. See you again, comrade, they say. They'll see you again. That's one thing you can be sure of. I walked across town to the place where I live and went up to my room. This is John F. Smith. I want to talk to Uncle Zach. I'm being sent somewhere.

I'm not sure, but I think it's Chicago. I'm supposed to make a contact at the Union Station at 1 a.m. You know what it's about? No idea. Yes, there's an operation in Chicago that we've heard about. I'll give you a number to call if you need it. Maybe you will. Michigan 9-1-1-1-2.

Michigan 9-1-1-2. Don't write it down. Just remember it. I'll remember. At 1 o'clock, I was waiting at the information desk in the Union Station. Track 3 for Cincinnati, Columbus, Cleveland, Dole. Hello, Comrade. Oh, Comrade, Ted.

Here's your ticket and your reservation. The trains do now, so get going. Where am I going? Chicago. He'll be met at the station. Come on. Who's going to meet me? How'll I know? He'll say, hello, George. How's Aunt Agatha? How will he know me?

Don't worry about that. He'll know you. Good luck, comrade. I stared out of the window at the lights flashing by in the night. Lights in the farmhouses, gas stations, and stores, traffic lights, auto lights. The lights of peace, I thought. Those are the lights we're trying to keep burning. George, how's Anne Agatha? Mike was the man's name.

Comrade Mike. He took me to his room in a boarding house. He took off his shoes and lit a pipe. He settled down on the chair with Broken Springs. Then he looked at me as if I were something in an aquarium behind glass, interested but unsympathetic. At his side, there was a record player and he switched it on. Well, you don't mind little music, comrade?

Just in case somebody on the other side, of the wall might be interested in our conversation. Carmen, Mike... Just Mike will do. Oh, Mike, then. Mike, tell me what goes on. Why did they send me here? You don't know?

No idea. Well, now, comrades like this. There was this man named Jay's, the Comrade Jays, sort of theatrical producer and pretty high in the party. I don't know exactly why, but they kind of got the idea he was working with the other team. So, what happened? Poor Comrade Jay

Oh, you die Oh, definitely, Comrade You never saw a need of suicide When I arrange a suicide It's what I mean arranged. Take your word for it, Comrade But I still don't get the reason Why they sent me here

Well, I'll tell you what It's this way Comrade Jay had a little black book With some names and addresses and notes in it And I always carried it with him But when we found his body It wasn't on him Wasn't in his car, wasn't in his room.

He didn't find it? No, so it didn't. And the party's just got to have that bullet. And that's why we brought you here. Well, why me? Why bring me all the way here? Well, now, I tell you. The party brought you here

because they think you got away with women. And you're a stranger. Oh, wait a minute. Wait a minute. Oh, no, no, no, that's right, comrade. You see, Comrade J produced a show in the nightclub on South War back. The star of the show

was a girlfriend of his named Gloria Dawn. Glory a dawn. So? So, the party believes, Comrade Jay may have left that little black fork with Gloria. Now, you're a strange in town and you're good-looking. It's up to you. You mean, I'm supposed to get this girl to

confide in me? Any way that you plays, Comrade. But she hasn't got the book. Oh, she got it somewhere. And that's why you're here. To talk sweet to that day until she tells you everything. Thank you, no. Okay.

Where do I find her? He's working in a double-or-nothing club on the South Side. You'll find her, and you talk to her, and you'll report to me will be good, I hope. Combrac? Yeah, I'd find Gloria Dawn, and my report would be good. It would have to be.

I've been instructed by the comrade. The double-and-nothing-nothing. Club was loud and strictly not for children under the age of 35. And now we take great pride in presenting the star of our which give her a great big hand. It was just about what I expected, and I was not really surprised when I caught a glimpse of Comrade Mike in a far corner. I expected to be followed because the Commeries just don't trust each other out of sight. After several hundred years, the floor show was over. Comrade Mike was still.

somewhere behind me and in front of me was anything from simple flirtatious nonsense to sudden death. Poor comrade J. I found my way backstage to the dirty corridor where the dressing rooms were. Yeah? Miss Dawn? Yeah? Remember me? No.

That's fredic. I never saw you before, Mr. May I come in? Lose yourself, Tom. All right, I just wanted to talk to you about Jay. Jay? Jay. What about it?

You think he killed himself? Well, I... Come in. Sit down while I take off this makeup. What'd you say your name was? That's the Vedic. Oh, yeah. Mind if I ask?

Are you a cop? No, certainly not. Why? And why are you asking me about Jay? Well, he was a friend of mine. I heard he was a friend of yours, that's all. You were a friend of his. How long did you know him?

Well, it's been years. I guess I first knew him right here in Chicago. He was a stinker. Sure. A real stinker. Of course, he was from the day he was born. Why'd you come back here to talk to me about Jay? Except an excuse to meet you.

Why? Because you're beautiful. At least I thought you were beautiful out there, but now that I see you closer, not your makeup, they're even more beautiful. Okay, honey. Wait from me outside. When I got home that night, I was questioned at length by Comrade Mike.

What had I said to Gloria? What did she said to me? Where did we go when we left the nightclub? What was her reaction when I mentioned Comrade J? We know Comrade J had that book up the time he went in a glorious dressing room. We know he didn't have it when he left. We searched every inch of that dressing room, and we know it isn't that.

You know, Gloria didn't take it away with her. Glory is exactly what she seems to be, a body is out of brain. Look, comrade, this assignment is not in good trouble. I don't like it. Well, suppose I don't find a book. Suppose you were dead, comrade.

Back to Dana Andrews, starring as Matt Sevedic. And I was a communist for the FBI and the second act of our story. Just pretend. to be a loyal member of the Communist Party was hard enough. But having to be a detective for the party was a little harder. A couple of days went by. Gloria and I were together day and night.

I tried to get her to talk about Jay. She wanted to talk about herself. But on the third night, after the show and her dressing room... Close your eyes, honey. Roger, eyes close. Hey, Gloria, why don't you think Jay killed himself? Did I ever see? say that?

Believe it, don't you? Oh, I don't know. Only, I think he knew he was going to be knocked off that night. He came in here when I was dressing like now. He had a little portable radio with him. He put it down on the table there and said, This is for you, babe. If I never come back, this radio will play.

He didn't come back, and the thing wouldn't play. If I never come back, this radio will play. Yeah, that's what he said. Did you tell anybody about it? about that? Tell who? The cops? I wouldn't tell her

at my time of day. What happened to the radio, Gloria? What did I do with the thing? That dressing room is so cluttered up. I guess I left it in the property room with all the costumes and junk. Do you think it's still there? What difference does it make?

Oh, I thought I might be able to fix it for you. I know a little about radios. Yeah? Well, maybe it's still there. Come on. This is it. I'd look so beat up. I don't think you could sell it for a buck.

You think you can fix it? I don't know. At least I can see if the tubes light up. Snap off this back panel. Oh? You find the trouble, honey? Yeah, I think so. Let me take it with me.

I'll get it fixed for you as something as good as new. Okay, honey. Honey, do you believe in second sight? When Jay left here that night, he said if he never comes back, that radio will play. I'll forget about the radio, but he must have known he'd never come back. Oh, maybe he did know he'd never come back. Maybe he was right about the radio, too. Maybe it will play.

I took Gloria home to her apartment, and when I finally got away, I had the radio tucked under my arm. I'll see you again, won't I? I'll bring the radio back to you tomorrow, baby. Maybe tonight. Okay, honey. Take care.

Don't worry about that, sweetheart. I'll take care, for sure. I walked along a Chicago street I'd never seen before, and all the time I was conscious of the fact that I was being followed. Comrade Mike, of course, in a slow-moving car behind me. At a street corner, there was an empty taxi. What two?

Just drive. It's trouble, bud. Trouble? What do you mean? Okay, why two? Do you know a place that would repair a radio this time of night? What kind of radio? Portable.

Yeah, maybe I do. It's a garage where I know a guy. Do you want me take you there? That's exactly where I want you to take me. Want me to wait? No, I don't know how long this will take. Okay. 140.

Your name is Oronski, isn't it? What if it is? A.J. Aronski. License M. 12659. Look, pal, if you got a beat... Keep your hair owner, Ronski. I was just reading your card. I'm one of those people who remembers everything.

A dollar 40. There you are. Thanks. Oh. Thanks, pal. Don't give her a thought. Hello? The clock strikes two o'clock, and it's ten minutes wrong.

I was in a small fix-it shop in the front of a garage. George was nowhere, but Comrade Mike's not far about. Not far. Close. Hello, Comrade. What's the idea of following me, comrade? Just routine, comrade. You got your orders, I got mine. So they don't trust me here.

Who trusts anybody anywhere? Let's have a look at that radio, comrade. Okay, why? Because he got it in that damn. Give it to me. Now, wait a minute. Wasn't that the idea I was supposed to make friends with that girl? Well, so.

So? So she loves music. She wants me to get a radio fixed tonight. Am I doing wrong, comrade? Look, we trust you. We trust everybody. We trusted Comrade J. Let's look at that radio.

Why, Comrade? Because maybe there's a little black book inside it. Give it here. All right, Comrade. Here. That's a cute little job, isn't it? Don't suppose he weighs five pounds. Now, what do you think is inside?

I don't know, comrade. You don't know? Nothing. Nothing, comrade. And why'd you bring it here? I told you. To get it fixed. She wants me to get a radio repaired.

Maybe she's crazy when they get it done this time of night. But would the party want me to refuse? Okay, comrade. It might be a good thing for you to find that book. If it comes, I'll be outside. But don't you worry, Comrade. You won't be alone. Somebody out here?

Oh, it's this radio. I thought I heard somebody talking to somebody out here. Oh, that was my friends. Out there in the car. Oh, okay. What's the matter with this? Yeah, what's the matter with it? I'll have a look at it.

You got a phone? Yeah, here under the counter. Local call? Yeah, local call. That'll be 15 cents. You can pay me now. Taking a phone call? I saw you from outside.

I thought I might be able to help. I was just calling Glory to tell her I'd be back in a few minutes. I'll tell her for you, huh? Hello. Hello. Who is it? What number is it? What number did you want?

Oh, it's trouble. Wrong number? A real wrong number. What is her number, pal? Let's try it again. Let's forget it. What's the number? Oh, I don't remember.

We forgot it so soon? I guess so. I can't find anything wrong with this. Mr. Just a two-do was pushed out of the socket. That'll be one buck. No Star Garage, radio service. Wait a second.

Did you call Michigan 9-1-1-1-2? No. No, I didn't. I did. Give me that phone. Hello? Is this the person who called Michigan 911-1-1-2?

That's right. Who's speaking? Who did you want? Nobody. Must have dial the wrong number. Let's go, huh? Poor Comrade J. Doing a job for the FBI.

A communist for the FBI. Maybe you ought to feel noble and brave about it. But right now, you're walking along a dark, deserted street with Comrade Mike, one pace behind you. The bow's in his pocket is either a 38 or a 45. At glorious place, Mike shoved his gun. gun in my back. Now you look.

When we go through the lobby, let's not make any mistakes. Huh, Comrade? No mistakes. All right, move. Now, wait a second. Why do you want to see her? No, either you're a fool or you think I'm a fool. I might have been willing to believe that she didn't know anything about Comrade J's little black

book until you made that phone call. Now I think I'm going to find out where it is. May be a little tough for both of you, but I'll find out. Let's go, comrade. Oh, wait, comrade. Look, you're making a terrible mistake. What do you think I was sent here? I know why.

To check on you, comrade. Nuts. You don't believe me? How long are you planning to live? Crazy. The party wouldn't do that to me? Wouldn't they? I'm not going to try to convince you,

but just think about it for a second. Boy, you make a fool of yourself. Nuts. Sure, nuts. But you can't be sure, can you? You can't be sure of anything in the party? Here, look at this card. Here, what is it?

Let me see this. Look at it, Conrad. The card was nothing but my driver's license, but he took it and stared at it in the dark, and that's all the break I needed. I hit him just right, and he was out like a light. The gun's still in his hand.

My pure luck, a proud car came by. I melted into the shadows as the officer's picked Comrade Mike up. Wait a minute. Put that light on his face again. Yeah, you know who this guy is? He's Mike de Brunsky. This guy's wanted for everything.

Get in it. here. Only a few minutes later, I made my report to the Chicago Office of the FBI. Go on, Smidding. It's a taxi. Illinois 4X.1297. Driver, A.J.

Aronski, license M. 12659. You'll find the book that was hidden in the portable radio behind the back seat of the taxi. I think it's important. Anyhow, the commies thought it was important enough to justify killing. The street in Chicago, dark, deserted, lonely.

Why should you be walking alone, comrade? Where are your friends? When you're in the party, you can't have any friends. Where are you going, comrade? What's at the end of the road? You walk in the night and you wonder what is at the end of the road. But I know. How well I know.

I'm a communist for the FBI. I walk alone. Dana Andrews will return in just a moment. This is Dana Andrews with a word about the story you just heard. The part I portrayed is the part you have to play when you're a communist for the FBI. And it's worth it, million times over, because at the end of the road is freedom. In this story, as in all others, names, dates, and places are fictitious to protect innocent persons. Many of these stories are based on incidents in the life of Matt Sabetic, who worked undercover

for the FBI. Next week, another fantastic adventure. Join us, won't you?