Word: lines
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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...Frankie ever had any doubts about the choice he had made, he was sucked in now; there was no turning back. In Shanghai, living at the Foncin Apartments, 643 Route Frelupt, he operated as a Red organizer. He used many aliases. Somewhere along the line he decided that he would become "Eugene Dennis." So far as he was concerned, Francis X. Waldron Jr. was dead and buried. Not a trace of him remained, not even a Seattle streetcar token...
Children of Revolution. By then, the party line had been changed. The orders from Moscow were to soft-pedal talk of revolution, work surreptitiously, bore into labor, into Roosevelt's New Deal. It was the beginning of the Pink Decade, when communism hid its face behind a hundred bland fronts, and thousands of U.S. citizens-the well-meaning, the intellectual, the starry-eyed and the muddleheaded-flocked around its feet...
...sent to jail for the popular Communist felony of passport fraud. Robert Minor, an elderly and bemused ex-St. Louis Post-Dispatch cartoonist, was given the temporary job of boss. But Browder, let out of jail by Franklin Roosevelt, got his old job back and picked up the next line from Moscow. Hitler had marched on Russia. The new and urgent line was to make peace with the capitalist U.S., piously preach collaboration of all "democratic" forces against their common fascist enemy. Roosevelt, who had been denounced as a "dirty warmonger," was a hero again at 35 East Twelfth Street...
...Hand of Moscow. Then destiny opened like a tunnel for the ninth floor's handyman. World War II ended. Collaboration ended with it. Moscow, triumphant and with other worlds to win, gave the order for a return to the war against capitalism. It meant another convulsive line-switch; it meant the end of Earl Browder. To underline the change which had occurred, Browder and "Browderism" were attacked with all the vituperation at the party propagandists' command...
Browder was kicked out of the party. Just to keep him on ice, Moscow commissioned him to act as an agent in the U.S. for Soviet publishers. In a one-room office on 42nd Street, he smoked his pipe and stared into space, loyally mumbling the line that the assassination of his character was only an "incidental of a political struggle." It was as close to accuracy as Comrade Browder ever...