Der Optimist's Demise

One day last week, a melancholy little note straggled into TIME'S Manhattan offices. It came from the editor of Der Optimist, a small Viennese weekly. Said the note: "We are sorry, that we have to announce you already today, that our paper will stop to appear with the ist of March. The time does not yet seem to be favorable for papers with optimistic titles --at least not in Central Europe."

The Communist seizure of Czechoslovakia, which coincided with the collapse of Der Optimist, had produced a sobering effect on most Austrians. More than half of their country rested in a Red nutcracker, with Czechoslovakia to the north, Hungary to the east, and Yugoslavia to the south.

Politically, the prospect was brighter. Austria had much less to worry about on this score than Italy (where the Reds had a good chance of winning the national elections in April). In the Austrian Parliament, the Communists held only four out of 165 seats. The Reds controlled neither police, interior ministry, nor trade unions, as they had in Czechoslovakia.

Economically, the outlook was dim. Food shortages would reach a crisis point by May. Last week, strikes protesting food shortages flared briefly in Vienna factories. The Reds agitated to prolong the strikes, circulated an ominous rumor among the workers: "Watch your step. Austria's next, and you have to account for yourself when the Communists take over."

Before the Czechoslovakian coup, Austria's hopes had concentrated on a peace treaty and the withdrawal of occupation troops. Now, Austrians hoped privately for continued deadlock in the treaty negotiations in London. So long as the occupation troops of the Western powers were present, the Austrians realized, the Communists could not take over, short of armed aggression. The Russians had been stalling on the peace treaty for months; now the Western powers might do some boot dragging.

Despite their gloom, Austrians had enough resiliency left to tell stories in the cafes. A thin, shivering little Austrian dachshund, one story ran, met a couple of fat, puffing Czech mastiffs at the Czech border. "You don't want to come over here. Look how thin I am. It's cold here and there's no food," said the dachshund. "Never mind," replied the mastiffs, "at least we'll be able to bark."

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