Yesterday was a bad day for the Communists in Boston. Curiously enough, it was a bad day for their arch-enemy, Representative Fish. While the crusaders against capitalism denounced men, ways, and things American with their customary vigor, the appointed defender of American institutions, under the aegis of the V.F.W. Auxillary, gave a fine sales talk for the Federal Government.

In spite of the applause which greeted the assertion that the remedy for political evils lies not in the red flag, but in the ballot box, and in spite of the fervor with which the bass drummer accompanied the singing of "The Internationale," neither the man of property nor the apostles of Lenin could glean much satisfaction from the proceedings. For none of the uniformed officers interfered with communist speakers, although outnumbering the twenty-nine avowed communists by almost three to one, they might have mastered them without machine-guns. And none of Moscow's emissaries attempted to heckle Mr. Fish even when he used unflattering language about their activities.

The piece de resistance of communist propaganda in this country, at least as a preliminary method of winning sympathy, has been righteous indignation against a discriminating and oppressive officialdom. Unmolested communists can arouse anti-American feeling much less easily. Yesterday's quiet deprived them of one of their most effective types of ammunition. With Mr. Fish matters stood even worse. He lacked wholly that food which his constitution demands more than the best vitamines and calories--evidence of a powerful red menace. It is fortunate that his Congressional report on communist activity in America has already been made.