Mac came home in late 1944 to the medal pinning ceremonies, the cocktail parties where he was expected to recount his escapades during the War, and the headlines of the Allied march across the Low Countries, the advance through the islands of the Pacific, and rumors of a weapon that would end all war. He did return to Wall Street, resuming the partnership at his prestigious law firm, lunching with the Dulles brothers at Delmonico's, the Oak Room, and the India House. As the months passed, his mind was increasingly elsewhere. There was talk of him running for Congress, a war hero, a man of the people. And yet, as he pointed out to his supporters, wasn’t everyone who returned a war hero?
Carla had become a minor star on Broadway, playing parts in one musical after another. Hallie was still her mentor, yet Carla was now the one getting invited to tables at the 21 Club and at the Copa. After all he had been through, Mac no longer minded all the attention his wife was getting, and her crowd was certainly more interesting than his.
At least she's happy.
Carla had given Mac a second child, another boy, conceived in Bastia, named Alberto after her brother. She was missing her family in Italy, but there would be time to go back for a visit after the war. She did get periodic letters from her sister-in-law Teresa assuring her that their family was safe, and not in harm's way, tucked away in Palombara Sabina. Yet, the headlines told her a different story. The march across the hedgerows, the taking of town after town she had never heard of, the pressure that the Allies were putting on Rome itself. Once the action had started in the north of France, there was less news of Italy, and of southern France, but she knew the fighting must be fierce, despite the assurances of her sister-in-law.
Giuseppe Balsieri managed to get himself to America, working down the hall from Mac on Wall Street, while cherishing the parties he was invited to with the Broadway friends of Carla. He left his family, and his mistress, back in Italy, telling them that it was too dangerous to make the trip. After all, there were shows to see, dinners to attend, and merriments to partake in, despite what was still going on in Europe, not to mention in the Pacific.
Mrs. Appleton was there, of course, taking care of Mac's every office need. She was moved up to the twenty-sixth floor with Mac, where she was only too happy to hold court with the younger secretaries, looking at her as if she were some sort of fairytale version of their futures.
“Mac, Foster wants to see you,” announced Mrs. Appleton, peeking her now frosted hair inside his office door, after he had been back almost a year. “In the conference room.”
“Yes, Mrs. Appleton, thank you.”
Mac walked down the hall, entering the same conference room where he had met Sara Mandakovich six years before, where Foster Dulles, now older, was still seated at the head of the mahogany conference table. Also in the room was his brother Allen, looking as dapper as ever, along with now General William Donavan.
“Gentlemen,” said Mac, as he entered the room, taking a seat at the table next to Foster, and opposite Allen and General Donavan. “What can I do for you?”
“Mac, General Donavan wanted to have a word with you. Bill?”
“Mac, we are very proud of you,” started William Donovan. “You have served your country with distinction and honor, young man.”
“Thank you, sir,” replied Mac, knowing the older man was blowing smoke up his butt, his having been back almost a year now.
“With the War over in Europe, and with the Pacific theatre ending after Hiroshima, there have been major discussions as to what the post-war world will look like. I know you were close to President Roosevelt, and he thought very highly of you. He thought there should be an important place for you in our future plans, particularly in the area of intelligence. The war has made one thing very clear. This country can never be caught short on intelligence again. We need people with the smarts and perseverance to see this through, to keep us on top of what is happening around the world. We want you involved, son. You have proved yourself to be smart, resourceful, and quite adept at reading situations. We want you to consider being a part of us, Mac.”
“I am flattered, sir, truly I am. But I have a young family. I need to take care of them. I do not think I should continue to traipse around the world as I did before. Besides, after these past few years, I need to concentrate on my law practice, and making money to support my family. We are about to move out to Munsey Park, in Manhasset. I have two children now. My family needs me, sir.”
“Mac, we are fully supportive here,” offered Foster Dulles. “Hear them out, son. You will not be hurt financially, I assure you. The firm is behind this.”
“What we have in mind, Mac, is to form a new Federal Agency, independent of any other agency or military command,” added General Donavan. “I have been in talks with Director of Budget Harold Smith. He has advised me that agencies with no peacetime purpose must go. I have convinced him that this country needs a centralized foreign intelligence system to replace the about to be disbanded OSS, to aid the nation in the organization and maintenance of peace. The atomic bomb has changed everything, Mac. It has shifted the balance of warlike and peaceful methods of international pressure. Nations will now need to resort to more indirect methods of warfare. We will need to adapt our means of gathering information abroad, and of reporting that information, directly to a central office where that information would be analyzed, so that this country can react accordingly. We see you as heading the analysts, Mac, either in Washington, or here in New York, if you prefer. You have proven yourself to be very astute in seeing things that others do not see right away. President Roosevelt was so very impressed with your abilities to make the seemingly complicated very clear, and so were we. The reports that you sent back from Europe were not only informative, but also prescient. How you knew what was happening, and what was going to happen, was a direct testament to your abilities to read and understand people. Mac, we are offering you a place where you can use your incredible skills as an analyst of information, developing a big picture from what information has been uncovered in the field. We are offering you this opportunity, while maintaining your position as a lawyer at the firm. That would be your cover, actually. You could travel the world as you feel necessary, gathering and analyzing information, while covering your trips by seemingly conducting the business of this prestigious law firm. It is like what you did in Rome while working for the Vatican, except on a much broader basis. Now your realm of responsibility would be the world.”
“Your position at Sullivan would remain the same, Mac,” added Foster. “As would your salary and remuneration. There should be no financial impediment to you doing this.”
“Whom would I be reporting to?”
“That is yet to be determined, but it would be to the director of the new agency. We see you as one of the top guys, Mac. I will be speaking to President Truman, and I want to tell him you are on board. It will make a difference, Mac.”
“I will be involved, as well,” said Allen Dulles. “This independent agency, reporting to only the President, has been my dream. You can be the first among many. The world of intelligence suits you Mac. The Room agrees, they want you involved as well.”
“Well, gentlemen, I am honored. Of course, I will consider your proposal. As I understand what you are offering, I would be here in the States for the most part, while traveling when I deem it necessary, as the need arises. It does sound interesting. I do have this cloak and dagger stuff in my blood now. It has been very difficult gearing down to be a gentleman lawyer after aggressively serving my country in faraway lands. I do feel I have talent. I will have to speak to my family, and consider this, gentlemen.”
“Very well, Mac,” said General Donavan. “I am speaking with the President next week. I would like you to come with me if you decide to join us. I know that President Truman will be open to this, particularly with you as our advocate.”
“Again, I am flattered sir. Let me speak to my wife, and I will be back to you by the end of the week. But I do believe that I am interested.”
The men left the conference room with smiles and handshakes, General Donavan putting his hand on Mac's back.
“Whatever your decision, son, know that your country appreciates your service,” remarked General Donavan.
“Thank you, sir. I will sleep on it.”
The following week, Mac was on the Marylander with General Donavan, making the rail trip to Washington in less than four hours. The two men reserved a private drawing room in a parlor car for themselves, so that they could discuss their pitch to President Truman later that day. Lunch was served on fine Dresden china, iced tea in Waterford crystal highball glasses. Other than the slight movement of the train, one would think that the men were dining in a fine restaurant, the table dressed in crisp linens and silver. The Chesapeake Bay crabs and oysters were served with cornbread muffins and local fresh vegetables.
“We will be at the White House by three o’clock, Mr. President,” said General Donavan, into the Marylander's telephone provided by the porter. “Yes sir, Commander Martin is with me on the train. Yes, sir, he is excited to meet you as well,” Donavan smiled at Mac, as he spoke to the President. “Yes, sir, we will see you soon. Goodbye.”
“It's amazing!” said Mac. “A telephone on a train. Talking to another city, no less. Amazing!”
“Isn’t it, Mac? The world is changing, my friend. Everyday there is something new to be excited about. Alright, let's talk about our pitch.”
“I got it, sir. I will entertain the President with stories from the field. You will impress upon him how important this kind of intelligence is to a future, lasting peace.”
“Yes, Mac. Be excited by the prospects of a centralized intelligence service.”
The men made their appointment in the Oval Office with time to spare. They sat outside of the office on tufted chairs, awaiting their turn at time with the President. It brought back wistful memories, Mac having been there to see President Roosevelt not that long before, and yet, seemingly a lifetime ago.
“Gentlemen, the President will see you now,” indicated a different gatekeeper outside of the door of the Oval Office.
“General, Commander Martin,” growled the man behind the desk inside.
“It is good to meet you, sir,” said Mac.
“I understand that this is not the first time you have been here, Commander?”
“That is correct, sir. I had the opportunity to discuss my reports with President Roosevelt. We dined together, in the office next door. Tuna fish, I think it was.”
“That's Roosevelt,” laughed President Truman. “How many tuna fish sandwiches I ate in the office myself,” he went on with a reflective smile.
“He was a great man, sir,” said Mac respectfully.
“Yes, he was son. Yes, he was,” responded Truman. “He had a special twinkle in his eye when he talked about you, son.”
“Thank you, President Truman. I appreciate you saying so.”
“Well, gentlemen, Christmas is coming. The war is over. Time marches on. The sooner we get on with it, the better, as far as I am concerned. What is it with this independent intelligence agency that you are pitching?”
“Sir, with all respect, this last war was won only because we were able to put ourselves in the position to know what our adversaries were thinking. We knew what they were going to do before they did it. Almost more importantly, they had no idea what we were doing, and when we were going to do it. From the landing at Sicily, to the crossing of the Messina strait. From the landing at Normandy, to the invasion of southern France. And then, sir, the bomb, sir, a masterpiece of surprise. Sir, we won because we had the guys who were outthinking those bastards. Sorry, sir, but it is true. We won because we had the intelligence to beat them sir, beat them repeatedly. You were a big part of that sir. You had the guts to do the unexpected. I salute you, sir,” said Mac, as he stood before the President, saluting him crisply.”
“You are an eloquent young man, Commander, and a formidable advocate. But the war is over. Why do we need intelligence at this point?”
“Sir, is the war ever over? Isn’t that what was said after the First World War? Are we really safe from despots that we do not yet know, out there plotting against us, against our allies? Peacetime is when we should be preparing for the next one, sir, perhaps so there isn’t a next one. This time we were lucky if you can call it that. How many men did we lose at Pearl Harbor because we did not know when or where they were coming? Next time, what then? With atomic bombs in play, not knowing could be even far more disastrous. We need a strong intelligence agency that can gather information and can properly analyze it, so that it does not happen again. Pearl Harbor, sir! Never again! We need to know what the world is up to, at any given time. Sir, we need an independent agency that answers only to itself, a body of professional intelligence people who are not political, who are not there at the whim of anyone. We need professionals, sir.”
“Commander, you make a strong argument. I was leaning toward not doing this. Let me think about it. If I were to accede to your wishes, would you be involved?”
“Yes, sir. I would be honored, Mr. President. General Donavan has assured me a high place in the new agency.”
“I will only do this if you are heading the agency, Commander, or at least, as an Associate Director. Our future belongs to you young people, Commander. People like you need to show us elders the way. The world is now yours, sir.”
“Thank you, Mr. President, for your trust and your encouragement. I am ready to be a beacon of light sir, for the rest of the world. Our intelligence community will be the envy of all.”
“I trust that it will, son. And what says you, Bill. You are awful quiet, for you,” said the President laughing.
“I am relying on my attorney, Mr. President,” laughed Donavan, nodding at Mac. “I think he made a pretty articulate, convincing argument, sir.”
“Yes, he did, Bill. Thank you for bringing him here today. Refreshing. It is nice to see the future of our country, up front and personal. May God be with you, son!”
In January of 1946, President Harry S. Truman established by Presidential Directive the National Intelligence Authority, with an operational extension called the Central Intelligence Group (CIG). Admiral Sidney Souers was made the first Director of CIG later that month, being replaced by General Hoyt Vandenberg by June of 1946. By the following year, Vandenberg uncomfortable by the lack of Congressional blessing had Congress established the National Security Act of 1947, dissolving the CIG, and establishing the Central Intelligence Agency, along with the National Security Council.
Mac remained at Sullivan and Cromwell, while assisting Admiral Souers and General Vandenberg get the infant agency up and running. The Security Act of 1947 had Commander Martin's hands all over it, as did the setting up of the New York Field Office of the newly minted CIA. He moved his family to Bellows Lane in Munsey Park, as his oldest child began to attend the Munsey Park School, in September of 1947. Carla continued her Broadway career, both she and her husband being driven to Manhattan together regularly.