Reds & Things

The boiled front of Connecticut's shirtsleeve C.I.O.-P.A.C. is a name-studded, money-gathering outfit called the Connecticut Citizens Political Action Committee. Born at a gala January party, the 500-member C.C.P.A.C. chose as its chairman lean, bespectacled Dr. Liston Pope, associate professor of social ethics at Yale. For balance, Torchsinger Libby Holman was named vice chairman, and Mrs. Howard Brubaker, wife of a New Yorker paragrapher, executive secretary.

Then came the political action--mostly internecine. The nub of the controversy was obscure, but suddenly C.C.P.A.C. was split in splinters. Cried Dr. Pope: "All Communists in this organization should resign." Then he pointed a finger: he demanded that Mrs. Brubaker get out for "insubordination." She refused, and Dr. Pope asked the steering committee to censure her. Instead, it dismissed Dr. Pope. Miss Holman resigned in protest, Mrs. Brubaker in the interests of harmony. Then other right-wingers among the left-wingers let it be known that they, too, were much too busy.

Last week, as C.C.P.A.C. prepared to elect a new slate of permanent officers, the fur flew faster than ever. Charged Industrialist Miles Pennypacker of the executive council: "Pope has a Napoleonic complex." Charged ruffled Dr. Pope, from the sidelines: "The organization has fallen into the hands of a group in whom we have no confidence." Explained Mrs. Brubaker: "Because you don't like certain people you shouldn't call them Communists. . . . Dr. Pope . . . has such awful phobias about Reds and things like that."

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