Big Net, No Catch

The escape of Communist Kingpin Gerhart Eisler had made the U.S. Government hopping mad. Unable to lay hands on the little man who was snugly draped in the Iron Curtain, the U.S. Government last week did what it seemed to consider the next best thing: it staged a spectacular, two-day inspection of the Polish liner Batory, aboard which Eisler had stowed away. The announced purpose was to find out who had helped him.

Immigration officials went about their work ostentatiously: in the large, bustling detail which boarded the Batory at Pier 88 on Manhattan's North River were 30 armed border patrolmen rushed from the Canadian border. With a smug smile, the Batory's master, Captain Jan Cwiklinski, accepted an order to stay aboard and keep his crew there until the Batory departed. Four of his crew were taken ashore briefly and questioned.

The chief sufferers were 111 of the Batory's 683 passengers who were hustled off to Ellis Island because of "doubtful citizenship," medical reexamination, or some lingering doubt about their bonds. (Normally only a dozen to a score of passengers on an arriving vessel are held for inquiry.) Most, if not all, would speedily be freed after a session with a board of inquiry. This week, the Batory sailed for England again--32 minutes late and with 838 passengers this time. The Government looked a little small with its big empty net.

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