Soviet Soap Opera

Perhaps Americans ought to listen to the Moscow radio more. What they have been missing was disclosed this week by a monitored transcript of a Christmas broadcast, beamed in English to North America. A heavyhanded tale of Santa Claus and the FBI, the broadcast would make most U.S. citizens snicker. But after the snickers would come a little better sizing-up of the Soviet Communist mind.

"Search That Plane." As the broadcast opens, Santa is flying across the arctic wilds in his plane, The Spirit of Good

Will. He heads south over Ontario, reaches Pennsylvania. A fighter plane sneaks up behind Santa and forces him to land. The narrator continues:

"The dapper young FBI man waved the customs inspectors aside. 'This is political. See that "good will" stuff painted on the body? Sounds like something out of Vishinsky.'

"Santa tumbled out of the plane. 'Merry Christmas,' he chirped gaily. The FBI man touched his cap. 'Will you follow me, please?'

"They entered a small building guarded by a man who looked like a storm trooper. The FBI man put Santa under a klieg light.

" 'Where did you come from?"

" 'The North Pole. You should know. You were a kid not so long ago.'

" 'None of your lip now. Don't you know the North Pole is a base of aggression?'

" 'No, I only saw seals there, and polar bears.'

" 'You dipped your plane over Port Churchill. Why?'

"Tort Churchill? Never heard of it. Do you mean Churchill with the big cigar?'

" 'Yes. I mean Churchill who's going to save the United States by making us fight the next war.'

" 'Oh, I see. But I'm not interested in wars. I bring peace and good will.'

"The inspector jumped as if a tack had crawled up his pants, [sic]. 'Did you say "peace?" I knew I had something here.'

"Another storm trooper entered and clicked his heels. 'Search that plane for Moscow gold . . .' "

A Beard, A Red. The FBI man asks Santa if he has been "a member of the IWW, the IWO, the OWI, the Friends of the U.S.S.R., the New Deal, the Russian-U.S. Institute." Santa says he doesn't work for Russia--"they've got a man by the name of G. F. Frost." This, the FBI man learns regretfully, is not a spy but Grandfather Frost (Russian for Santa).

" 'Well,' said the FBI man, 'we can't let you in. You're a Red. Only Reds talk about peace . . . You're a Moscow agent because you have a beard.'"

Here a telegram arrives from Paul G. Hoffman ordering Santa's release "on condition he go to Europe and sell ERP deliveries and make some rackets." The FBI man tells Santa: " 'Now you'll do business with the firm of Marshall, Lovett, Draper, Clayton and Hoffman, Inc.'

"Santa sighed . . . 'It's the Marshall Plan or jail, isn't it?'

" 'That's about the ticket,' said the inspector. 'We treat our own people the same way, so you, as a foreigner, can't kick. Al, help him to load up the plane and hook on a train of gliders.' '

Santa glumly takes off. "Then as he flew over the Atlantic, his radio caught the chimes of Moscow, and there were choruses of children's voices, jolly, singing, laughing. 'That lucky guy, Grandfather Frost. He brings them what they want. . . Things to live and not to die.'

"And suddenly an idea struck him. He fumbled for the cable pulling the train of gliders, pulled hard, and released the gliders in midocean, dumping the whole Marshall caboodle."

The broadcast ends with a rendition of Jingle Bells--in Russian.

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