". . . And he's using the money bags of the oil barons to support his demagogue pals . . ." Save for a few intent Followers in the front row, the score or so in the audience let their concentration lapse and their eyes drift from the speaker behind the chintz-covered table. A rough-hewn bust of Trotsky dominated one corner. Sleazy rattan blinds covered the high, narrow windows. Dusty, antique light fixtures shone dimly from the peeling ceiling.

Lawrence P. Trainor, organizer, Boston local, Socialist Workers Party (nee Trotskyites) continued. "McCarthy is not through, even if he isn't the Republican hero he was in 1952 . . . he is speaking for all the incipient fascists. American imperialism is at the cross-roads!" A middle-aged woman in a shawl nodded. "That, in turn," Trainor barked, "calls for a counterpoint turn of the Marxists. Living life demands an answer. . .that is reality and reality will face us, even if we don't face it!"

There was brief applause as Trainor sat down; there was less response to a plea to "dig down deep and come up with some--money." He gestured to a girl in a tight sweater who resignedly passed a small basket. The meeting started again as Trainor rasped: "Anybody's got a question, go ahead and ask." A tall student in the back questioned Trainor's facts concerning the formation of the Republican Party. "Aw hell," the speaker blurted. "My six-year-old kid asks more intelligent questions than that." A white-haired listener snickered to his wife: "Only because he expects intelligent answers."

A girl in a tan coat pointed out that unemployment is relatively low. "Whadya mean?" boomed the reply. "Why in advertising alone, you got thousands--millions o' guys doing nothin'--why that's the most useless job there is. And all these salesmen tramping the same street, selling the same damn thing on the same damn day. Why--." "But they're not unemployed, are they?" said the girl. "Gimme another question," said Trainor. The woman in the shawl scowled at the girl while Trainor was engrossed in the subtleties of another question. "It don't take an Einstein," he replied, "to figger out that when the workers find out what it's all about, they aren't gonna take it lying down . . . some of them learn slow, but sooner or later there's gonna be a workers' revolution."

Someone else told him that even labor unions are assured of the success of capitalism--"they're putting their funds into stocks. How do you account for that?" "I never heard that before," Trainor barked, and returned to his seat. His lieutenant took over the meeting. Gesturing to a bookcase which displayed such titles as "Only Victorious Socialism Can Prevent the Third World War," he said, "I'm sure you all must have some unanswered questions about our group . . ." The tall student in the back was pulling on his raicoat. "Yah," he said to his friend, "and I'll be that six-year-old kid does too."