Hard Times

Chunky George A. Meyers, head of the Communist Party in Maryland and the District of Columbia, dropped by the Baltimore Evening Sun one day last week to voice a complaint. Everywhere he went, said Meyers, he was surrounded by FBI agents. They hung around outside his apartment, followed him to the store, even accompanied him to theater washrooms. To prove his point, he pointed to three men who were peering at him through the glass windows of the Sun's newsroom.

Less than an hour later, the FBI stopped playing cat & mouse. G-men arrested five Communist leaders (including Meyers) who had been directing Red activities in the District of Columbia and Maryland. The charge: conspiring toward the overthrow of the U.S. Government.

Throughout the nation, the party is as harried as Meyers in the theater washroom. Although the Justice Department still insists it does not plan "wholesale arrests," last week's roundup of leaders was the third since June. Total arrests: 46. Communist national headquarters had ordered each of the party's 32 districts to establish alternate leadership, and to step up training of future leaders. Some party leaders told rank & filers not to get in touch with them lest this put the FBI on their trail. As a precaution against FBI infiltration, several state headquarters flatly banned recruiting new members. In New England, party members were told to stop gathering in private homes, to hold all cell meetings in cars and restaurants.

Financially, the party had never been so threadbare. With the heat on, better-heeled Reds or fellow travelers in Hollywood and on Broadway had stopped making contributions. Collections in radio, art and cultural circles had also dribbled off.

At some future date, the U.S. Communist Party might again become dangerous as a result of war, depression or internal dissension. But as it stands today, it has little to lose but its bail bonds.

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