Deadly Deceits Read Free Page B

attended Tilden Technical High School, located several miles away in a racially and ethnically mixed area. A serious student, I earned membership in the honor society and was elected class president. I also won All State and All City awards as a tackle on our city championship football team. Though I remained an ardent Baptist, two of my teammates persuaded me to go to college at Notre Dame with them. We roomed together and played on four undefeated football teams that won three national championships in the years from 1946 to 1949. I won an award one year as the best blocking tackle and played in the North-South All Star game another year. In 1950 I graduated cum laude in Business Administration.
    I was raised to believe in the American dream—the Protestant work ethic, truth, justice, freedom. I had lived through World War II with its clear black-and-white heroes and villainsand the stirring messages of fighting for God, country, and democracy in the world. I and my whole generation shared an innate feeling of accomplishment. The satisfaction in victory, the reawakening economy, the Marshall Plan for Europe, and our government’s attempts to rebuild a world made safe for mankind had made all of us proud, patriotic and, I suppose, a little smug.
    I believed in the basic lessons of life that my legendary Notre Dame football coach, Frank Leahy, had drilled into us—work hard, do your best, and victory in the game and in the larger game of life will be yours. “Oh, lads,” I can still hear him saying, “you have to pay the price, but if you do, you can only win.” My proudest, happiest, most patriotic moments came before the games as the starting teams lined up in the kick-off formation in the center of the stadium, surrounded by Notre Dame’s loyal fans. Standing there in the crisp bright sun, gazing fervently at the flag as the national anthem resounded, I was filled with emotion. Each time I dedicated myself to do my best for myself, my family, my school, and my country.
    After college I failed a try-out with the Green Bay Packers. A one-year stint as line coach at the University of Dayton convinced me I needed to change fields. I moved to Chicago and got a job with Montgomery Ward as a management trainee. After all of the glory days, this job seemed unendurably prosaic. But as if out of a chapter of the American dream as taught to me by my parents and Coach Leahy, a telegram arrived: “Would you be interested in an important government position? The duties include foreign travel and involve procedures similar to those of the Department of State.…” Suddenly the adrenaline was pumping and I could hear the crowds cheering again.
    In mid-January 1952, after a brief interview with a quiet man in the Chicago courthouse, and after several well-dressed young men had invaded my neighborhood asking questions about me (the local druggist stopped my father and asked if I were in trouble with the government), I was called toWashington, D.C. The man in the courthouse had made vague references to fighting communism but had imparted little additional information. He didn’t tell me what I would be doing or what agency I would be working for, but I assumed it would have something to do with foreign diplomacy. Intrigue, danger, adventure, travel to exotic places, and possibly even a mysterious Mata Hari or two might be in my future. I visualized myself at a sidewalk cafe in Paris, sipping Pernod while discussing important foreign affairs with a diplomat.
    I boarded the afternoon train for Washington. To prepare for a possible test of my knowledge of world events, I brought with me Time magazine and several copies of The New York Times . As soon as the berths were made up and after a quick sandwich, I retired to digest the latest news.
    The headlines reflected the atmosphere of the time in which I was setting out on my new career. Our courts were processing cases against domestic Communists,