I always promised myself, my family, and those who worked for me that when I got my promotion to GS-13 I wouldn’t hang around past my time. I distinctly remember discussions when I was a junior officer about senior CIA folks who simply stayed around too long. “What’s that old fart doing here?” “I thought he was dead—maybe he is.” And so it went.
I remembered when Bob, one of my deputies when I was chief of the East Asia division, and I went on a trip to Boston. We had both been promoted the day before. As we sipped a beer in our hotel room, we talked a lot. I had come from a dirt-poor family; he was an orphan who never knew his parents. We considered ourselves compatriots, and we were friends for the next 20 years, even though our assignments seldom crossed. As we sat there, we made a vow: No matter what happened from then on, we declared ourselves to be successes. We both made the elevated rank of GS-13, and it was a significant event in our lives. I lived up to that vow, and he did too.
As I filed for retirement, I made several trips back to Washington and discovered that the CIA decided to do away with the executive dining room at headquarters. This was part of the plan to make all of us equal. The executive dining room was now the employee dining room, really an expensive cafeteria open to everyone. One table in the employee dining room was designated as the retiree corner. It seated six of our distinguished alumni, all over the age of 70, who met every Tuesday and expected their table to be waiting for them. Now I respect tradition, but I went up to have lunch, and every seat was taken except at the retiree table. I didn’t know the tradition, and sat down there. Wow! You would have thought that I left the proverbial you-know-what in the punchbowl. A number of the old farts showed up, and I knew something was wrong. I knew every one of the guys sitting at that table, and when the last person showed up without a seat, I said that I had to take a phone call and left. As I left, I heard a lot of snickering, and someone who knew me said, “Sir, you can’t go to that table yet. You need a drool cup to sit there.” That reinforced my commitment to retire while I still had some respect.
Realistically, in any other occupation, I would have had many good and productive years left. I was only 59 years old, and had 36 years of government service. But I lived up to my promise to myself: quit while you’re on top, while you’re feeling good about yourself—before they start calling you “an old fart who doesn’t know when to quit.”
A number of recent retirees told me that once you retired from the CIA, offers of all sorts would pour in. Frankly, I suspected this was true—but only if you retired in the Washington, D.C., area, where the Beltway Bandits absorb huge contracts with the U.S. government and make their money utilizing our former officers, who retain their top-secret clearances.
So I was surprised when, three days after retiring on January 3, 2001, I got my first few messages asking if I was available. It was astonishing. One pharmaceutical firm asked if I was available to be their director of security for their Asian operations. It was indeed an attractive offer—a base salary in the six-figure range, plus lodging in New York and in an Asian capital of my choice. The problem was they wanted me to be responsible for their operations in China, Taiwan, the Philippines, Indonesia, Singapore, and Malaysia. I told them that this was mission impossible. No one, myself included, could do the job requested. So I turned them down. One week later, they called again and asked if they could renegotiate the salary. I told them one last time that it wasn’t the salary, I just didn’t believe they were serious in looking at security—that, simply put, no one could do the job they were asking to be done. I asked them to remove my name from consideration. I don’t think they really understood my reasoning.
Shortly thereafter I received an e-mail asking me if I might be interested in “a private firm with a government contract looking for experienced investigators. Training to be provided. $25 per hour starting salary. Part-time work.” Since I was now retired, I thought this sounded pretty good because I didn’t want to work full-time again. I sent a positive note in, and was asked to travel to their corporate headquarters, spend four days being trained in their methodology, and then go on a one-year contract, renewable year by year. I went to their training session, and I discovered, as I suspected, it was vanilla work, or investigative work designed to avoid running up big bills. Nevertheless, I took a one-year contract to be a contract investigator to see how it would work out. I was one of only three people out of a class of 50 to be issued immediate credentials.
Basically, I investigated people for security clearances. Over the next year, my worst fear came true—I was working almost fulltime. I learned that my employers were mainly interested in clearing out a huge backlog so they could keep their cushy government contract. They operated on the cheap, and I terminated my contract after one year. But I fulfilled my part of the contract—I worked through their entire Wisconsin backlog. I learned again what I already knew about the world of background and security investigations—most of us know very little about our neighbors. During the year, I discovered cases of bad debts, spousal abuse, and generally unacceptable behavior by many needing security clearances to do their jobs. There were more problem cases than even I would have thought possible.
Two other things occurred after I retired. The CIA established a reserve cadre of retired people who kept their security clearances in case the Agency needed to ask people back to active duty (as has been the case since September 11, 2001). They asked me if I was available for the reserve, and, of course, I said I was. I was told the director of the reserve program would take care of processing the clearances. Six months later, I returned to headquarters on other business and discovered that the director hadn’t gotten around to processing my clearance. I started from scratch and filled out all the forms again. And this after 35 years of work. I figured this didn’t bode well for the reserve program, and told them that if I were called, I would serve, but I wouldn’t volunteer.
My next offer was from a major European manufacturer of armored security vehicles, which offered me a salary three times greater than my highest CIA salary. They wanted me to move to Europe to carry out the work from their headquarters. My wife and I decided we wanted to stay in the United States for a while to spend time with our kids. Plus, I wanted to do some writing. So, we turned the offer down, reluctantly.
I continued to see signs that all was not well at the CIA. Traditionally, CIA employees are given a retirement medallion, and people typically received one within 90 days after finishing their service. Six months into my retirement, I had received nothing indicating that I had retired, other than a reduced paycheck. I called several times to inquire about the delay, and finally asked to speak to a supervisor. After much fussing, a supervisor told me, “Sir, we have no record that you ever worked for the CIA. Consequently, we cannot send you a medallion.” I did finally get my medallion, but it took a couple more calls to get it.
Meanwhile, I returned to the CIA as a guest lecturer at the newly formed Kent School of Intelligence Analysis. The idea of establishing a professional school for analysts came from Marty Petersen, who had served as the chief analyst on China, and later was the director of the office of East Asia analysis. Marty and I had traveled together with the DCI when I was chief of the East Asia division. Marty was exceptionally astute, and particularly effective at briefing foreign dignitaries. He moved on from his Asian analyst positions to become associate director of intelligence, arguably the number-two analyst in the business. There he proposed the creation of a school to professionally train our analysts, much as we have always done with our case officers. The DCI enthusiastically supported it, and the school has made a major contribution to improved analytical product. I made two trips to lecture in two different courses, and was enthusiastically received on both occasions.
Several months after retiring, I received a call from Cardinal Stritch University, a Franciscan university with about 6,500 students in Milwaukee, and only eight miles from my home. They asked if I could put together and teach a course on intelligence and foreign policy for their political science/history department. The dean of the department, Terry Roehrig, discussed it with me. He was very persuasive, and Cardinal Stritch was extremely flexible in allowing me to schedule my hours around other commitments. I agreed and began teaching in fall 2001. The class went quite well. I got to know and respect both Dr. Roehrig and others at Cardinal Stritch, and they treated me well. Cardinal Stritch has a well-thought-out development plan and also one of the best PR departments I have seen.
Then came the terrible events of September 11, 2001. Cardinal Stritch asked me to address the student body about the incident—to help them cope with it and understand the underlying causes and consequences. They also asked if I could speak to the local news media about 9/11. I agreed, because after 36 years in the business, I felt obligated to do anything I could to offer people some modicum of understanding about this tragedy.
The demands for me to speak exploded. Over the next six months, I did 13 television/commentary appearances, six newspaper interviews, and four radio talk-show pieces. Further, I participated in a panel appearance at the Wisconsin Institute for Peace Studies, and made additional presentations at Marquette, Cardinal Stritch, and numerous service and civic organizations. I was honored as well by being invited to deliver the 2002 commencement address at Cardinal Stritch—probably the only CIA operations officer ever to deliver such an address.
I am pleased to have contributed to people’s understanding of 9/11. Being able to help like this reinforces my belief in the relevance of the CIA OIR program, and in the importance of the American public having an opportunity to understand what the U.S. intelligence community and the CIA are all about.
Building on my 9/11 lectures, Cardinal Stritch invited me to teach a new course on international terrorism. Due to intense interest, the course was overenrolled, so they broadcast it live on TV to three other private universities in Wisconsin.