Showing posts with label KGB. Show all posts
Showing posts with label KGB. Show all posts

08 May 2018

'Who's Who In CIA': A Cold War Relic


The year after my father left the Foreign Service and returned to the U.S., a little book was published in East Berlin.  It was entitled Who’s Who in CIA and purported to name everyone who worked for the spy agency.  

(It’s full title was Who's Who in CIA: A biographical reference work about 3000 employees of the civilian and military intelligence branches of the U.S. in 120 nations.  There are in fact something over 2,500 biographical entries in the book’s 605 pages.  I blogged briefly on this book in “Spook Book,” part of “Short Takes III,” posted in Rick On Theater on 8 February 2012.)  

When the English edition of the book was published in East Germany in July 1968 (it went to press in May and a German edition came out in June), it created quite a stir in the circles of official Washington, especially among Foreign Service (and former-Foreign Service) officers . . . not for fear of being outed as a spy—the book wasn’t taken that seriously by anyone—but because everyone wanted to see her or his name listed.  If you were anybody, you were in the book.  In fact, if you weren’t in the book—you weren’t anybody.  I guess it was the 1968 equivalent of Googling yourself—except without the tech. 

There was a rush on copies of Who’s Who so the curious could see if their names were listed—and my dad is in it.  The little entry, modeled, apparently, after the famous Marquis Who’s Whos of prominent Americans in various fields, has most of my dad’s facts correct—except the ones that concern his “intelligence” work.  

For instance, his military service is indicated as “1941-46 Captain in CIC of US Army.”  (The CIC was the Counter Intelligence Corps of the World War II army, the precursor of today’s Military Intelligence Branch, in which I served 25 years later.)   In truth, Dad’s World War II service was as an artilleryman, first as an enlisted man and then as a company-grade officer, culminating as the commander of the headquarters battery of an artillery battalion that fought in western Europe from France to Germany at the end of the war. 

Dad was not an intelligence officer (I was), but because he spoke German, he’d been sent for extra training at Camp Ritchie, Maryland, the army’s Military Intelligence Training Center during the war.  (Almost all GI’s who spoke one of the enemy languages—German, Italian, Japanese, Czech and Slovak, Romanian, Hungarian, Bulgarian, and several others of hangers-on which sought German or Japanese protection from Soviet or Chinese aggression—or a language of any of the occupied countries—Arabic, Chinese, Danish, Dutch, French, Greek, Indonesian, Norwegian, Polish, Thai, among many others—were sent to MITC, though not all of them made it through the training.)  

When Germany surrendered in May 1945, Dad was assigned briefly to the CIC during the occupation to help interview Germans and interrogate captured Third Reich officials to identify and locate high-ranking Nazis who were sought for arrest.  

(Dad was shipped back to the States in September.  He actually separated from the service at the end of 1945, not ’46 as Who’s Who shows; he was officially discharged in 1946, but he was already married to my mom by then and at his private-sector job in Washington, D.C.)  

But he was dubbed a CIC officer by Who’s Who’s compilers on the basis of a three-month temporary assignment.

Another item in my father’s Who’s Who entry was the notation “from 1962 in USIA, work for CIA.”  USIA was the United States Information Agency (also known as the U.S. Information Service, or USIS), the Foreign Service’s public diplomacy agency; it dealt in cultural propaganda intended to promote the idea of the United States as a nation and a social concept.  It’s operations were entirely transparent and overt.  (In Germany and Austria after World War II, USIA was an adjunct of the Allies’ de-Nazification program.)   

Because my dad’s employer had been the U.S. Information Agency, and in Europe where, in many languages, ‘information’ and ‘intelligence’ are the same word—Nachrichten in German, for instance, or svedeniya in Russian—the information service was the intelligence service, a misunderstanding ensued (and was exploited by the compilers of Who’s Who in CIA). 

The compilers went on to add another item in my dad’s biographical profile: “resident: Bad Godesberg, Turmstrasse 77.”  Bad Godesberg was the suburb of Bonn, then the capital of the Federal Republic of Germany (aka West Germany), in which most diplomatic missions, including the U.S. Embassy, were located.  (Now part of the city of Bonn, it was also where the U.S. Embassy housing complex was located, in the section of Bad Godesberg known as Plittersdorf, which was what the complex was often called unofficially; Turmstrasse 77 was the address of our apartment in the complex.)  

Below that information, the entry stated “OpA: Coblenz, Frankfurt/Main, Bonn (Attaché).”  “OpA” was the book’s abbreviation for area(s) of “operation,” and Koblenz (the modern German spelling used in the FRG) was Dad’s first post in USIA.  He was director of the Amerika Haus there (his official title was Information [not Intelligence] Center Director, Koblenz), the USIA cultural center with a library and auditorium/meeting hall for concerts, readings, lectures, receptions, and performances. 

Frankfurt am Main, a little over 75 miles east of Koblenz, was the site of the U.S. Consulate that had oversight for the Koblenz Amerika Haus and other USIA facilities in the state of Rhineland-Palatinate (Rheinland-Pfalz); other Amerika Häuser were overseen from different consulates.  Dad went there for meetings with his immediate superior and the Consul-General, but he was never stationed there (though Dad’s official mailing address through the Army Post Office was at the Frankfurt Consulate-General).  

He was transferred to the embassy in Bonn in 1965 as the Cultural Affairs Officer, sometimes unofficially referred to as as the cultural attaché.  He left Bonn and USIA the year before Who’s Who was published. 

I note that Who’s Who doesn’t say “residence,” but “resident.”  In the espionage game, a resident is a spy who operates in a foreign country for prolonged stretches; he or she is sometimes the head of a spy ring.  The same word, with the same meaning, exists in both German (Resident) and Russian (rezident).  

As far as an area of “operation” is concerned, Dad’s responsibility extended to the region surrounding the city of Koblenz (a town of 100,000 inhabitants) plus its suburbs and satellite towns.  He met with civic, business, political, and religious leaders of the region, as well as students of both the high school and university levels, to talk about U.S. history, culture, and political system.  For instance, he gave a series of lectures to German Hochschule (high school) students about the American Civil War, a subject of particular interest to my dad and of great curiosity to Germans, who knew very little about this uniquely American event.  

Dad also arranged performances by American artists such as opera singers or classical musicians who were members of the local municipal opera company and orchestra.  The first experience I had with Edward Albee was a reading, in German, at the Amerika Haus of his American Dream (1961), for example.  Those were the kinds of “operations” in which Dad engaged. 

Furthermore, Koblenz was in the former French Zone of Occupation, only 100 miles from the Luxembourg border on the far western frontier of the Federal Republic (and almost 300 miles from the nearest point on the border with the German Democratic Republic), hardly an area of Cold War espionage (as Berlin was even a decade later when I was there).  

A real CIA officer would have had little to do in Koblenz in 1962-65, the time of my father’s assignment at the Amerika Haus.  There might have been a better argument regarding Dad’s next assignment, at the embassy in Bonn—but there already was a CIA officer posted there (about whom I’ll say a little more in a bit).

The ‘information’/’intelligence’ overlap was probably part of the reason that the book listed my dad.  Furthermore, since all Soviet Bloc diplomats were “spies” at some level or another, they just assumed all of ours were, too.  (In fact, when I was training for Military Intelligence, we were admonished that certain professions were not authorized for use as cover identities for agents because such use could taint the real work of people in those lines.  These jobs included Red Cross workers, clergy, teachers, medical personnel—and diplomats.)  

Believe me (or don’t: it’s really too late now, anyway), my dad was not in the CIA.  Though because Dad worked for the Information Agency, his father, who was born in Eastern Europe (and spoke both German and Russian among other languages), thought his son was a spy until the day Grandpa Jack died. 

According to Who’s Who’s publisher, “CIA” is “used as an appropriate synonym for the whole of the US intelligence system.”  In the ministry halls of the Eastern Bloc, that “system,” included such agencies as: 
  • the Department of State and the U.S. Foreign Service
  • the U.S. Information Agency (USIA, my dad’s outfit)
  • the Agency for International Development (USAID, the U.S. foreign-aid agency)
  • the U.S. Arms Control and Disarmament Agency
  • the Peace Corps
  • the U.S. Education Exchange
  • the U.S. Mission to the UNO (United Nations Organizations, AKA: the U.N.) 
In the words of Who’s Who, all these agencies and several others “are used by the CIA for intelligence purposes or . . . have, with official sanction, been infiltrated.”  (There’s actually no such organization as “the U.S. Education Exchange”; I presume Mader was referring to the U.S. Department of State Bureau of Educational and Cultural Affairs which oversees both the National Student Exchange Program and the Fulbright Program, though most of their clients are high school and college students.)

The book’s publisher explains that the intent of the book is “to demask . . . leading officials and officers, collaborators and agents of the US intelligence services who are operating on five continents.”  It ended up naming almost everyone who ever served overseas, however, even privately, or served in any high-ranking post in the government.  

In testimony before the U.S. Congress in 1980, Ladislav Bittman, a former intelligence officer for the Czech Intelligence Service specializing in disinformation (1964-66), who defected to the United States in 1968 and claimed to have been one of the coauthors of the book, asserted:

About half of the names listed in that book are real CIA operatives.  The other half are people who were just American diplomats or various officials; and it was prepared with the expectation that naturally many, many Americans operating abroad, diplomats and so on, would be hurt because their names were exposed as CIA officials.

In fact, Who’s Who left out actual CIA and other intelligence people.  Richard Helms (1913-2002), the Director of Central Intelligence in those days (1966-73), is in there, as are his predecessors Roscoe Henry Hillenkoetter, (1897-1982; DCI, 1947–50), Allen Welsh Dulles (1893-1969; DCI, 1953–61), John A. McCone (1902-91; DCI, 1961–65), William Francis Raborn, Jr. (1905-90; DCI, 1965–66), as well as William Joseph [“Wild Bill”] Donovan (1883-1959, the founding director of the Office of Strategic Services (OSS), the World War II forerunner of the CIA.  (Oddly, Donovan is listed, even though he was long dead by the time the book was compiled, but Walter Bedell Smith, DCI from 1950 to 1953, who’d died in 1961, is not.)  

(As I will throughout this article, I have used the names as presented in Who’s Who’s biographical entries.  I’ve marked insertions with brackets and I’ve corrected errors, such as incorrect birth years, and added current data, like years of death, as pertinent.)

In addition, included in Who’s Who in CIA are Lyndon Baines Johnson (1909-73; President of the United States, 1963-69), Professor Hubert Horatio Humphrey (1911-78; Vice President of the United States, 1965-69), Robert Strange McNamara (1916-2009; U.S. Secretary of Defense, 1961-68), Professor Dean Rusk (1909-94; U.S. Secretary of State, 1961-69), Clark M. Clifford (1906-98; adviser to Presidents Truman, Eisenhower, Kennedy, Johnson, and Carter; White House Counsel, 1946-50; Chairman of the President’s Intelligence Advisory Board, 1963-68; Secretary of Defense, 1968-69), and several National Security Advisors and heads of the National Security Agency, the Defense Intelligence Agency, and the Office of Naval Intelligence.  

There’s even an entry for journalist and commentator Bill D. Moyers (b. 1934) who served as Deputy Director of the Peace Corps (1962-63), a special assistant to President Johnson (1963-67), and White House Press Secretary (1965-67). 

(Who’s Who also lists as intelligence officials other prominent previous and current members of the federal government such as: Frank Church, 1924-84, U.S. Senator from Idaho, 1957-81; Lawrence S. Eagleburger, 1930-2011, career Foreign Service Officer from 1957, later Secretary of State, 1992-93; [R. W.] Scott McLeod, 1914-61, Department of State’s Bureau for Security and Consular Affairs, 1953-57, Ambassador to Ireland, 1957-61; Professor Dr. Dr.  Arthur Meier Schlesinger [Jr.], 1917–2007, National Chairman of Americans for Democratic Action (ADA), 1953-54, Special Assistant to the President, 1961-64; and Cyrus Roberts Vance, 1917-2002, Secretary of the Army, 1962-64, Deputy Secretary of Defense, 1964-67, later Secretary of State, 1977-80.)

Among the well-known and government-connected, however, are also some just-plain citizens, some with recognizable names, caught up in Who’s Who’s net because many (but not all) had an association with an intelligence agency during their World War II service:

·   Stewart Johonnot Oliver Alsop (1914-74), newspaper columnist and political analyst; worked with the OSS during World War II (aiding the French Resistance, for which he was awarded the Croix de Guerre).
·   Leroy Anderson (1908-75), composer (“The Syncopated Clock,” “Sleigh Ride,” “The Typewriter”); served in CIC during World War II.
·   August Hecksher [II] (1913-97), public intellectual and author; editorial staff of the New York Herald Tribune (1948-56), Parks Commissioner of New York City (1967-72); worked for OSS in North Africa during World War II.
·   Garson Kanin (1912-99), playwright and film and stage director (Born Yesterday; husband of actress-playwright Ruth Gordon).
·   [Andrew C.] McLellan (1911-86), labor leader and Inter-American Representative of the AFL-CIO.
·   George Meany (1894-1980), labor leader and president of the AFL-CIO (1955-79).
·   Professor Dr. Eugene Willard Miller (1915-2002), geographer, university professor, and academic writer; professor of geography at Pennsylvania State University (where he created the Department of Geography), 1945-80; worked as a geographer for OSS during World War II.

Less (in)famous are the agents who later would participate in the CIA-backed Chilean coup of 1973 that overthrew Salvador Allende Gossens, the elected Marxist president, who are also named in the book, including David A. Phillips (1922-88), a CIA officer in South and Central America who was involved in the Allende coup and a similar operation in Guatemala in 1954.  

Who’s Who in CIA also names Richard Skeffington Welch (1929-75), the CIA station chief in Athens who, seven years after the book appeared, was gunned down outside his residence by Marxist guerrillas after his name and address were published in a local newspaper.  

(Also listed is former CIA agent Philip Agee, 1935-2008, who in 1975 published Inside the Company: CIA Diary [Penguin Books] which identified 429 names and descriptions of “employees, agents, liaison contacts or were otherwise used by or involved with the CIA or its operations; and of organizations financed, influenced or controlled by the CIA.”)

Missing are any Deputy Director for Operations (or Director of Plans, as the position was called at the time Who’s Who was compiled and published; Desmond Fitzgerald, 1965-67, and Thomas Karamessines, 1967-73 were the incumbents during that period), the head of the CIA Directorate of Operations (DO), the clandestine arm of the agency (except those, like Dulles and Helms who rose to become DCI), and J. Edgar Hoover (1895-1972), the long-serving Director of the FBI (1924-72).  (Karamessines, 1917-78, was actively involved in the 1970s in plans to destabilize the government of Chilean President Allende.)  

Another CIA name omitted from Who’s Who is that of Aldrich Ames, (1941-2026), who went to work for the agency in 1962 and by 1985 had become a KGB mole in the CIA providing intelligence to the Soviet Union and Russia until he was arrested in 1994.  Ames was tried and convicted of espionage and sentenced to life without the possibility of parole.  He died in federal prison at age 84.

Some other people well known to have been connected with the CIA who aren’t mentioned in the book are G. Gordon Liddy (b. 1930) and E. Howard Hunt (1918-2007), two of the Watergate burglars who, in 1972, helped break into the Democratic campaign headquarters in Washington on behalf of Richard M. Nixon’s Committee to Re-Elect the President; either of the other Watergate burglars who were CIA operatives (Bernard Barker, 1917-2009, and James W. McCord, Jr., b. 1924); William “Rip” Robertson (1920-70), another operative engaged in the Guatemala coup; Gerry Patrick Hemming (1937-2008), a mercenary soldier and CIA operative who worked in Cuba (where he met Lee Harvey Oswald, assassin of President John F. Kennedy) to aid Fidel Castro overthrow dictator Fulgencio Batista in 1959; and James Jesus Angleton (1917-87), the famous mole-hunter in the CIA who became almost obsessed with uncovering a KGB undercover operative inside the agency, predicting the discovery and arrest of Aldrich Ames—which Angleton didn’t live to see.

Also not named are any of my father’s USIA, consular, and embassy coworkers (except one, Dad’s immediate predecessor in Koblenz and Bonn: Gunther Karl Rosinus, b. 1928, who’d served in the State Department’s Office of Intelligence Research from 1951 to 1953)—most notably the woman who was the embassy spook, Herma Plummer (1908-91), although everyone (including this teenaged foreign service brat) knew what her job was.  

Plummer was not a covert operative when she was in Bonn, even though her career had included years in the DO, and before that she was an alumna of “Wild Bill” Donovan’s OSS.  Described by an embassy colleague, George Jaeger (b. 1926), who’d arrived in Bonn around the time my father left (and is listed in the book!) as an “elderly Margaret Rutherford-like graduate of . . . Allen Dulles’ World War II operation,” she cut  a distinctive figure along the halls of the embassy in her proto-earth shoes and earth-mother attire.  (This was the Herma Plummer I remember, but according to a CIA colleague from the 1950s, she’d been “an attractive, tall woman, always elegantly dressed.”) 

 She retired as a GS-15 (the equivalent of an army colonel or a navy captain) a month after the English version of Who’s Who was published, a recipient of the CIA’s Intelligence Medal of Merit, the agency’s third-highest award.  (Dad was an FSO-4, the Foreign Service equivalent of a GS-10 or -11, the same as an army captain or a navy lieutenant.)

Who’s Who in CIA was compiled by Mohamed Abdelnabi (Beirut), Ambalal Bhatt (Bombay—now Mumbai), Fernando Gamarra (Mexico City), and Shozo Ohashi (Yokohama), under the direction of Julius Mader (1928-2000; aka Thomas Bergner) doubtless with the assistance and guidance of the GDR’s Ministerium für Staatssicherheit (Ministry for State Security or, more commonly, Stasi, the East German secret police) and possibly also the Soviet KGB.  

Mader, a self-declared journalist who, as an agent of the MfS Department of Agitation (Abteilung Agitation) with the rank of major and an Offizier im besonderen Einsatz (OibE, or a special operations officer), was adept at anti-Western propaganda and disinformation.  (‘Disinformation,’ or Desinformation in German and dezinformatsia in Russian, is, according to Wiktionary, “Intentionally false information disseminated to deliberately confuse or mislead.”)  

He “self-published” Who’s Who so it wouldn’t bear a government publishing label—although in reality there was no such thing as an independent publication in the GDR. 

The book, like most Soviet Bloc publications in that era, is cheaply bound at 5¾″ x 4¼″ and, as I noted earlier, 605 pages long.  It has a red fabric hard cover and a dust jacket of cerulean blue on the top half and crimson-and-white stripes on the bottom half to call to mind the U.S. flag (without exactly matching the colors).  

Aside from the biographical listings, Who’s Who in CIA contains a “Foreword” by Mader, the facsimile  of a short letter of thanks on Foreign Relations Committee letterhead from Senator Joseph A. Clark (1901-90; Democratic Senator from Pennsylvania, 1956-68) to Mader (whom a note explains “helped the US Senate in investigations against the CIA”) for “suggest[ing] additional readings on the CIA,” “Notes for the user,” and a list of abbreviations used in the entries.  

Mader also includes six fold-out line-and-block diagrams of the organizational structures of the “American Intelligence Services,” the “Office of Intelligence Research of the State Department,” “Military Intelligence Headquarters of the USA,” the National Security Agency (NSA), the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI), and the “System of several cover organizations used by the CIA.”  

At the end of the book are included two detachable cards, one for corrections and additions and the other for the submission of more names of U.S. intelligence agents.

Mader, whose real name was apparently Thomas Bergner (there’s some confusion over which name was his birth name and which a pseudonym), was born in the Sudetenland in what is now the Czech Republic, the part of Czechoslovakia with a large ethnic German population which Hitler annexed in 1938.  After the German surrender in 1945, Sudeten Germans, including 16-year-old Mader’s family, were forcibly resettled within the Soviet occupation zone of Germany, which in 1949 became the German Democratic Republic, a puppet state of the Soviet Union.  

After a brief turn studying business in 1946 and ’47, Mader began studying law, journalism, political science, and economics at the Universities of Berlin and Jena, the Institute of Internal Trade in Leipzig, and the German Academy for Political and Legal Science “Walter Ulbricht” in Potsdam.  He earned a master's degree in business in 1955.

He joined the Sozialistische Einheitspartei Deutschlands (Socialist Unity Party of Germany, the communist party of the GDR) in 1958.  In 1960, Mader became a full-time agent of the MfS (with yet another cover name, Faingold), earning the designation OibE in 1962 and the rank of major in 1964.  (Both the KGB and the MfS were military or paramilitary organizations with uniforms and military ranks.)  

He was awarded a doctorate in economics and social sciences from the Academy of Law and Political Science in 1965.  At the MfS, where he wrote propaganda tracts and books and works of disinformation, his specialties were the operations and structure of the intelligence and security organizations of the FRG (the Bundesamt für Verfassungsschutz—the Federal Office for the Protection of the Constitution—the West German equivalent of the FBI, and the Bundesnachrichtendienst—the Federal Intelligence Service—the FRG’s CIA counterpart), the United States, and the United Kingdom.  

(Mader also wrote extensively about the Third Reich, a pervasive bugaboo for the East Germans, Soviets, and the whole Warsaw Pact.  There are frequent references to “fascists” and “neo-fascists” in Mader’s writings, including Who’s Who in CIA.)

Some of Mader’s books before the publication of Who’s Who in CIA were Gangster in Action: Design and crimes of the U.S. Secret Service (1961) and No Longer a Secret: The secret of the German Federal Republic and its subversive activity against the GDR (1966).  

He continued to write such books until 1988 (CIA Operation Hindu Kush: Intelligence activities in the undeclared war against Afghanistan was his last), the year before the Berlin Wall came down, and the year Mader received the Patriotic Order of Merit in silver, the award’s second-highest level, for outstanding service to the GDR in civilian life.  

All together, his books, including translations, sold several million copies, mostly in the Soviet Bloc.  He died in (a reunited) Berlin at the age of 71, though the final 12 years of his life, after the dissolution of the German Democratic Republic, to which he’d devoted his entire adult life, seem to have gone largely unrecorded.

In his Foreword to Who’s Who in CIA, Mader explains his rationale for compiling the book.  In doing so, he doesn’t hesitate to employ portentous language to depict the dire importance of the publication:

Never in the history of the USA has the influence of its intelligence system on home and foreign policy been as great as it is today.  For, as tools of the monopoly groups that rule in North America, the various intelligence services of the USA play a special part in the global strategy of that state. (p. 7)

[The US intelligence services] send out their spies and subversive agents, conspire with neo and pro-fascist cohorts, prepare putsches, and armed intervention, and stimulate ideological subversion. (7)

Oddly, much of what Mader and his cohorts say in Who’s Who is largely factually correct, but it’s spun in a propagandistic way that, first, makes the facts seem ominous and threatening:

. . . psychological warfare and all the dirty methods of subversion were publicly raised  to state policy for the USA. (8)

The US intelligence services . . . plan and organize dangerous actions at every hour.  For this reason the people of all nations are warned of the organizers of the CIA machinations. (14)

This approach served both to alert the populations of Warsaw Pact nations to Western plotting and subterfuge and to provide legitimacy for the activities of the Soviet Bloc security forces like the KGB and the Stasi.

Second, the book omits any mention of activity by the Soviet Bloc forces that might necessitate U.S. and Western response, portraying itself as the innocent victim of U.S. intrigue.  In fact, Mader accuses the U.S. of actions and practices in which the USSR and the Eastern Bloc openly engaged:

North American imperialism takes upon itself the right as the world’s policeman, so to speak, to intervene against every democratic, progressive and non-capitalist development all over the world. (7)

[The CIA] has been unmasked hundreds of times the world over as [the] leading centre of imperialist espionage activities and as the coordinating centre for coups d’etat against lawful governments as well as for counter-revolutionary attacks. (10)

Third, perfectly ordinary actions and policies are made to appear dangerous and excessive. 

By far the largest and most influential of the American intelligence branches is the Central Intelligence Agency which is directly subordinated to the Executive Office of the President of the USA, and whose director holds a key position in the mechanism of the North American power system. (9-10)

The fact that the CIA is the largest U.S. intelligence agency is irrelevant.  Some agency will obviously be the largest in its category; it’s not pertinent, but it sounds scary because one of Mader’s main goals is to demonize the U.S. intelligence complex, with special emphasis on the CIA.  Remember that Mader’s intended audience wasn’t the populace of the the Western allies but the people of the Soviet Bloc and,  more pointedly, the so-called unaligned nations.

That the DCI is subordinate to the U.S. president is also routine.  So is the Secretary of Defense, the civilian head of our military; in fact, as Commander-in-Chief, the president is de facto and de jure the direct superior of the generals and admirals of all branches of the armed forces.  The same command structure pertains in nearly every country on earth, including both the Soviet Union and the present-day Russian Federation. 

I’m not sure what Mader means when he asserts that the DCI “holds a key position in the mechanism of the North American power system” since I’m unaware of any collective power structure for Canada, the U.S., and Mexico (not to mention Greenland, the nations and territories of Central America, and those of the Caribbean—all part of North America), but if he really means the United States, then . . . well, duh.  

The DCI is an important member of the president’s national security team—for obvious reasons, I should think—but only an occasional participant in the National Security Council, attending only when invited for matters  pertaining to his responsibilities.  (The current regular intelligence advisor to the NSC—though not a permanent member—is the Director of National Intelligence, a post that didn’t exist until 2004.  Before that the DCI held the position, but even so, the NSC has no executive authority; it’s an advisory body whose recommendations must be confirmed and issued by the president.)  

The DCI isn’t autonomous, however.  He (or she, though the office hasn’t yet been filled by a woman) can’t launch operations on his own or define policy, any more than the Secretary of State can establish diplomatic relations with a nation or the Secretary of Defense can go to war at their volition.  (Actually, not even the president is supposed to be able to do that latter, but Vietnam proved that he can.) 

Public opinion in the USA already fears that the CIA has become the “invisible government”.  This becomes particularly clear when one analyses to which alarming measure the CIA and the Department of State, the Foreign Office of the USA, have become integrated in terms of personnel.  Even the “New York Times” of April 27th, 1966 estimated that 2,200 CIA agents are active in the diplomatic service of the USA “under official cover abroad”. (10-11) 

Certainly there’s cross-over between the State Department, the military, and the intelligence community.  (Does anyone believe that this didn’t happen in the Soviet Union and the GDR?  Before we elected George H. W. Bush, a former DCI in 1976-77, president in 1988, Yuri Andropov, Chairman of the KGB from 1967 to 1982, was premier of the USSR, 1982-84.  

Today, the President of the Russian Federation, Vladimir Putin, was head of the Federal Security Service, successor of the KGB, from 1998-99.)  The experiences and backgrounds are analogous—which doesn’t mean that the crossovers in the Department of State are spies any more than the former military officers in the foreign office are still warriors. 

The New York Times estimate of intelligence personnel abroad cited, 2,200, isn’t out of line as a worldwide figure, especially given what was going on around the world in the the mid-1960s.  (Saigon and Vietnam would probably have accounted for a majority of these people.  Berlin, where I was stationed five years later, was also agent-dense during the Cold War.)  

Most of those wouldn’t be espionage or counterespionage agents, but technicians, interpreters and translators, and various specialists, some on short-term assignment for specific tasks.  Mader makes the number seem sinister—without acknowledging the size of the clandestine Warsaw Pact presence beyond the borders of Eastern Europe in response to which the U.S and Western activity would have expanded. 

In addition, “official cover” doesn’t mean the intelligence personnel attached to embassies or consulates are clandestine or covert (though some are, of course).  Many are known to the other mission workers and even the public just as Herma Plummer was at the Bonn embassy in the ’60s.  

(When I was an MI counterintelligence agent in Berlin, we wore civilian clothes and didn’t use our ranks in public, but everyone knew where we worked—there was a brass plaque at the entrance to our office that read “66th Military Intelligence Group.”  Many civilian intelligence personnel operated under similar conditions.)

(The New York Times material cited in the passage above is from “How C.I.A. Put ‘Instant Air Force’ Into Congo: Intervention or Spying All in a Day’s Work,” published on 26 April 1966—not 27 April, as Mader writes.  The correct quoted line is: “under official cover overseas,” a quotation from historian Arthur Schlesinger’s 1965 book A Thousand Days: John F. Kennedy in the White House.  This Times article was the second of five in a series about the CIA, 25-29 April.)

Furthermore, Mader often writes in Marxist boilerplate, probably for the consumption of the already-converted leftists in his audience, that sounded rote, stilted, and unconvincing even in 1968.  Take, for instance, this statement:

. . . the intelligence service of the USA has always been the domain of the fanatical enemies of democracy and a stronghold of the anti-communists. (8)

The Stasi writer is here deliberately employing the logical fallacy of “equivocation,” that is, using a word with two different meanings without specifying which sense the writer intends so as to mislead the reader or draw the reader to a false understanding.  

The word here is ‘democracy,’ which we in the West understand to mean “a government by the people” but by which Mader and the communist East mean “a government in the name of and for the people” (such as, the German Democratic Republic, the former East Germany, or the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea, the present-day North Korea). 

Leaving aside the descriptive “fanatical,” which is certainly intended to be a hot-button word to inflame the reader, the whole of the U.S. government—yea, even our entire culture at large—could be said to be “anti-communist” during the Cold War, as we are also “anti-fascist” and “anti-imperialist.”  (Okay, I’m talking officially and theoretically.  I know we don’t always live up to the ideal.)  That’s no surprise. But we’re only an “enemy of democracy” if you define ‘democracy’ as a single-party socialist state and not a country with a government of freely elected representatives of the citizens.  

Mader wants you to read the passage above and think we’re opposing such nations as France, Australia, Japan, Sweden, or India.  (Granted, we have sometimes overstepped our bounds, such as in Iran in 1953, Guatemala in ’54, and Chile in ’73.)  Whatever differences we have with the so-called liberal democracies, we don’t oppose them; at the same time, we do oppose countries like Cuba and the DPRK, sometimes with a ferocity and tenacity that exceeds logic, I’ll acknowledge—but we have also reconciled with other nations such as the Socialist Republic of Vietnam, a one-time implacable enemy who essentially defeated us.  

Mader wants readers of Who’s Who to think the United States is secretly fighting our capitalistic allies on behalf of some crypto-fascism—hence, the Marxist equivocation in his rhetoric.

Who’s Who in CIA was largely regarded in the West as an act of disinformation.  The errors and omissions, the inclusion of so many people who weren’t connected to any kind of intelligence work, was seen as a way to roil the waters of East-West Weltpolitik by sowing distrust among the citizenry of friendly or neutral nations.  

The omission of so many actual intelligence personnel, especially working agents abroad, was interpreted as a tactic by the communist agencies like the Stasi and the KGB to divert attention from the U.S. agents so that it would be easier to keep an eye on what they were up to or to make use of them in various ways—feeding them false information or preventing them from successfully acquiring useful intelligence. 

Despite its official dismissal by the United States’ intelligence community, the CIA nevertheless felt Who’s Who was worthy of some kind of response.  The agency helped journalist and investigative writer John Barron, publisher of Reader’s Digest,  to write KGB: The Secret Work of Soviet Secret Agents (Reader’s Digest Press, 1974).  

The book’s appendix, on which the author admitted that the CIA collaborated, names 1,600 alleged KGB and GRU officers posted abroad as diplomats. (The KGB, whose initials are an abbreviation of the Russian name Committee for State Security, was the main security organization and secret police of the Soviet Union; the GRU, the Main Intelligence Directorate, was the principal military intelligence agency of the USSR—and is still the largest foreign intelligence organization of the Russian Federation.  Remember that I said earlier that Soviet and present-day Russian diplomats were also spies?)  

In the New York Times, reviewer Hugh Trevor Roper, an Oxonian historian of early modern Britain and Nazi Germany, wrote, “How the K.G.B. functions, how it uses its unchallenged, arbitrary power, is the subject of Mr. Barron’s book,” which sounds to me like a direct reaction to Mader’s book. 

Reviews of Who’s Who in CIA included Daniel Brandt’s assessment for his website NameBase, which focuses on people involved in international intelligence activities and related subjects, such as reviews of books and articles on intelligence and espionage.  

In his review, Brandt, once an activist with Students for a Democratic Society (SDS), a counterculture organization in the 1960s and ’70s, states, “Mader paints with a broad brush,” admitting to listing “former OSS, military intelligence (even during WW2), State Department personnel . . ., FBI counterintelligence, and also the occasional politician who sat on this or that intelligence committee.”  

Adding, “Generally when Mader includes a name, it’s merely an indication that Mader found this person interesting for one reason or another,” Brandt quipped.  “Some of his names . . . appear to have been compiled by looking for the word ‘intelligence’ in the State Department Biographic Register.”  

He cautioned that “further research and corroboration is needed before any conclusions can be drawn.”  Nonetheless, “Mader apparently had access to some information on CIA officers that was not publicly available,” and the reviewer concluded, “For the occasional investigator who is too experienced to expect easy answers, this book continues to be quite useful.”

Brandt’s review is clearly a much later evaluation (it’s undated, but NameBase wasn’t started until 1995), however a contemporaneous notice was published in the Los Angeles Free Press (28 March 1969), an alternative weekly with a radical political perspective.  

In “Who’s Who in the CIA: A Review of the Real Underground,” which also reproduces some of the charts and listings from the book, Freep (as the paper was known) founder and editor Art Kunkin asserts, “‘Who’s Who in CIA’ was undoubtedly compiled as a weapon of Russia against the United States,” adding, however, “It is not surprising, therefore, that this book has much to say about the obviously anti-democratic effect of the United State’s [sic] huge intelligence apparatus but not one word about the other noted enemy of human freedom, the equally sizeable and repressive Russian espionage system.”  

Pointing out all the evil work of the Soviet secret police that Mader neglects to mention—perpetrating domestic terrorism to maintain the power of Soviet leaders, murdering or assassinating political opponents, “forging” evidence for show trials, planning the invasions of Hungary (1956) and Czechoslovakia (1968), murdering opponents in the Spanish Civil War (1936-39) including communist partisans in anti-Stalinist factions—Kunkin observes, “However, it must be underscored that these omissions do not detract at all from the book’s graphic demonstration of the power and size of ‘invisible government’ in the United States.” 

Kunkin maintains that “the reasoning of spy hunters is that any person who has ever been associated with intelligence work is always suspect” (which I suppose is an explanation for my father being labeled a CIA operative off of a few months’ assignment with the CIC in World War II), and he illustrates his contention with a quotation from Who’s Who regarding the “knowledge that imperialist intelligence services usually ‘buy-up’ the recipients of their pay, and also those who have fallen into their clutches till the end of their lives.”  

Kunkin does admonish Mader (parenthetically) because he’s “not very clever.  The nature of his real employer is verified not only by his convenient cold war omissions but by his communist cliches.” 

(Let me make a personal observation concerning Kunkin’s first statement above, that among “spy hunters,” especially those of the Warsaw Pact, I suspect, once someone’s been associated with an intelligence agency, he or she is forever after tagged with the label “intelligence operative.”  My father, as I noted, was temporarily assigned to the CIC during the beginning months of the occupation of Germany, from May 1945, when the Third Reich government surrendered, until Dad was shipped to the Pacific in August.  He never had any contact with an intelligence organization before that or after.  

(I, on the other hand, was an officer in Military Intelligence, the successor of the CIC, for almost five years.  It was the whole of my army service, including 2½ years as a counterintelligence special agent in Cold War Berlin.  Once I got out of the army, however, I never had any dealings with MI or any other intelligence agency.  No one ever contacted me or tried to recruit me.  I’m proud of my service and what I did during that time, but that part of my life ended in 1974.  

(What I have left is what I learned about myself from the experience—and a lot of stories.  I have never had call to use any of the tradecraft I learned again.  Neither had my father, and neither, I’m sure, had any of the people in Mader’s book who had a one-off connection with some intelligence agency at one time in their lives.  To believe otherwise is absurd—and paranoid.)

The Freep editor further suggests:

In this shadowy cloak and dagger world it must also be assumed that the Russians do not even want to expose certain American agents.  It is obviously easier in some circumstances to tolerate a known agent whom you can watch and divert from important information than continually have to cope with uncovering new agents. 

Who’s Who’s listings, Kunkin observes, “are usually people whose Intelligence background has already been publicized.”  Furthermore, he says, “Their past and present affiliations probably could be determined simply by close study of telephone directories, newspaper files, etc.”  

There may even be a few “ringers” in the entries as well, “thrown . . . at us for [the Soviets’] own political purpose.”  But Kunkin bemoaned that some private citizens where lumped in with the intelligence workers, and what he feared most  was “that these suspect listings may be correct,” after all. 

He singled out the entry for Frederick Amos Praeger (1915-94), founder of Praeger Publishers, who issued books on communism (as well as other topics such as art and archeology).  Feared Kunkin, “Praeger’s ‘listing’ may simpl[y] be a result of his anti-fascist affiliations in World War Two [Praeger was born in Austria], but, then again, the widespread rumor that he has published ‘cold war books’ with CIA money may indeed be true.”  

Who’s Who in CIA, says the reviewer, shows “how American trade union leaders, businessmen, college professors, government officials, and military men are entangled in the web of the so-called Intelligence agencies.”  The lesson Kunkin took away from the book is:

On the one hand, we had an elected government presumably responsible to the people; on the other hand, the military-industrial complex which President Eisenhower warned about linked its future with the development of a super-secretive intelligence-operational group manipulating domestic and international affairs with a total disregard for democratic procedures anywhere.

The Free Press editor and publisher concludes his anti-establishment treatise (Kunkin had much more to say that wasn’t directly pertinent to the book) by affirming: “The public needs to be informed of the urgency of the problem.  Given these considerations, ‘Who’s Who in the CIA’ is a valuable book despite its compromised source.”

None of this is to say, of course, that the Washington world of the foreign service and intelligence apparatus like the State Department, USIA, and the CIA wasn’t entirely engaged for months in the summer of 1968 looking to see who was named and who wasn’t.  

At social functions which my dad’s former foreign service colleagues attended, there was always insouciant chatter about the book and its listings.  Almost immediately upon its release, Who’s Who in CIA became impossible to find in bookstores and reports are that it even disappeared from many libraries across the country.  

Art Kunkin guessed that the book’s popularity was partly spurred by government secretaries and clerks who bought it to see what their bosses were hiding in their backgrounds.

Dad obtained a copy of Who’s Who in CIA as soon as it was released, but my mom gave it away with most of her and my father’s books after he went into a nursing home and she moved to a smaller apartment, not realizing what it represented.  

I wanted to replace it, but it was hard to find in the early ’90s and I used to check the used bookstores, of which there were then dozens near my home in New York City.  I even checked Revolution Books, a Marxist bookstore off Union Square near where I live, that had a section devoted to military history and related subjects.  

After the Internet had become available and I used it to search for a copy of the English edition in good condition for a reasonable price, I eventually replaced the book in 2005, nine years after my father’s death.  (I paid €18, or $23 at that time.  Today, some copies are selling for anywhere from just over $100 to well over $300.)

The world in which Who’s Who in CIA could exist is gone now and for those born after the Cold War ended and the Soviet empire collapsed, it probably seems a little ridiculous and silly.  In “Berlin Memoir, Part 4” (posted on Rick On Theater on 9 February 2017), I wrote: “The Cold War was a wondrous time—if you’re Franz Kafka!”  

(I’ve blogged a lot about my MI experiences in Berlin; see “Berlin Station,” 19 and 22 July 2009; “The Berlin Wall,” 29 November 2009; “Berlin Stories: Three SNAFU’s,” 18 August 2012; and “Berlin Memoir,” 16 and 31 December 2016, 20 January 2017, 9 and 19 February 2017, 11 and 29 March 2017, and 13 April 2017.  I also wrote a little about my dad’s work with USIA in Germany in “An American Teen In Germany,” 9 and 12 March 2013, and “Home Alone,” 12, 15, and 18 June 2015.)  

This article is about a little piece of that world-spanning absurdity that briefly touched my own family a little.  It’s obviously a memory I still carry with me after 50 years.

25 March 2010

Spook Museum


Washington, D.C., is a city of museums. One estimate numbers them at over 100 in the greater metro area. At the top of the list are the branches of the Smithsonian Institution, such as the National Museum of American History (sometimes called the Nation’s Attic), the National Museum of Natural History, and the National Air and Space Museum. 

Then there are the art museums, starting with the National Gallery of Art and including the National Museum of Women in the Arts, the National Museum of African Art, the Phillips Collection, the Corcoran Gallery of Art, and quite a few more, both public and private. 

But art and history are not the only subjects of the museums in the Nation’s Capital; we have lots more, some rather peculiar, collections of objects and exhibits.

When I was a kid, one of the strangest places we could visit--and, perhaps, the most gruesome--was the Army Medical Museum, now called the National Museum of Health and Medicine. 

In my day, it was housed downtown in one of the many so-called temporary buildings, left over from the FDR administration to accommodate the expanded government for the recovery from the Great Depression and then the conduct of World War II. (Since the change in the museum’s designation, it’s moved to different quarters on the grounds of Walter Reed Army Medical Center.) 

One exhibit was a display on the assassination of Abraham Lincoln which included not only John Wilkes Booth’s derringer but the vertebrae removed from Lincoln’s body where the fatal bullet had penetrated. Other exhibits in this odd collection resemble a Ripley’s Believe It or Not museum (like the one I remember on Times Square when I was little--a mid-20th-century version of Barnum’s dime museum). 

On display in huge glass bottles and jars were limbs with elephantiasis, the fetus of conjoined twins, the lungs of a smoker (compared with those of a coal miner and an iron miner), the tongue and throat of a person who choked to death on dentures, among other grim--but often instructive--items. 

Established in 1862, the museum was described by its founder, Army Surgeon General William Hammond, as a collection of "all specimens of morbid anatomy, surgical or medical, which may be regarded as valuable." The Washington Post, however, puts it more succinctly: a visit produces a “shiver-inducing, stomach-churning sensation.”

Other Washington collections include the Newseum, devoted to the news business [closed permanently in 2019]; the Folger Shakespeare Library, home of the largest collection of Shakespeare materials in the world; the National Archives, where the nation’s founding documents, as well as other historic and significant papers, are kept; the National Building Museum, which focuses on design and architecture; and the National Museum of Crime and Punishment, a relatively new exhibition whose charter is clear from its name. (The entrance to the NMCP, like many such places, is controlled by chains on movable stanchions--but these are fashioned from handcuffs!) 

And I’m not even counting the government agencies, like the FBI or the Bureau of Printing and Engraving, which have their own displays; the museums and exhibits in nearby Maryland and Virginia; historic sites like Ford’s Theatre, Mount Vernon, Hillwood, and Tudor Place, or the historic downtowns of places like Alexandria, Virginia, or Frederick, Maryland (anyone remember Barbara Fritchie [1766-1862]?). 

One of the most fascinating, however, is the eight-year-old International Spy Museum on Northwest F Street in downtown D.C, right across the street from the National Portrait Gallery and the National Museum of American Art and a short walk from the Verizon Center [now Capital One Arena].

The International Spy Museum is a private, profit-making enterprise (and, therefore, charges admission--currently $18 for adults) built by a Cleveland entertainment, news, and information firm called the Malrite Company at a cost of $40 million. 

It opened on 19 July 2002 and became an immediate sensation for tourists and metro-area residents as well. (It’s a destination for school groups, especially middle school classes. The biggest group of visitors when I was there was teen and pre-teen boys.) 

Over the year-end holidays the year the Spy Museum opened, my mother and I attempted to have a look--for professional reasons, of course. We drove by it on three different days--it’s in a bad parking area, unfortunately--and the line was always around the corner. 

We decided this was because it had just opened and drew all the holiday tourists and vacationing families in town, so we decided to try again when I was in town for a non-holiday visit. 

(I say they ought to have a special pass for former spooks--professional courtesy and all. Actually, there is an “Intelligence discount”-- not special access, though--for current spook agency workers, but not us ex-spooks.  "Spooks" are what we and others called those of us in the intelligence racket.  Intelligence agents are spooks; I was a spook in the army.)

In development for over seven years, the museum draws on the knowledge and expertise of former intelligence specialists, both civilian and military, American and foreign. The advisory board includes two former CIA directors, other former U.S. intelligence workers, and retired Maj. Gen. Oleg Danilovich Kalugin (b. 1934) of the KGB. 

The president of Malrite is Dennis Barrie, the former director of the Cincinnati Arts Center who got into a bind in 1990 for showing Robert Mapplethorpe's photographs and the former director of Cleveland's Rock and Roll Hall of Fame; the museum’s chairman and founder is Milton Maltz and the director is Peter Earnest, who was in the CIA for 36 years. 

They consider the museum’s “mission” is “to educate the public about espionage in an engaging way and to provide a context that fosters understanding of its important role in, and impact on, current and historic events.” It claims to be the only public museum in the U.S. “solely dedicated to espionage” and the only one in the world with a “global perspective.” 

[Since I wrote this post in March 2010, I learned of two espionage museums in New York City. I covered both of them in “Spy vs. Spy” (9 August 2019): Spyscape, at 928 8th Avenue at West 55th Street in the Times Square neighborhood of Manhattan, opened in 2018 and the K.B.G. Espionage Museum opened at 245 West 14th Street (east of 8th Avenue) in January 2019.  The pandemic made the K.G.B. Espionage Museum’s operation unsustainable and it closed in October 2020.

Other related exhibits, such as the KGB Museum in Moscow, the espionage display in London’s Imperial War Museum, or NSA’s National Cryptologic Museum at Fort Meade near Baltimore, have narrower emphases or a national point of view, assert the Spy Museum’s directors.

On another trip down to D.C. in May 2004, I again went to the Spy Museum. A cousin of mine and my mom's was in town with her husband and their 12-year-old daughter, so Mother reserved tix for us for the Spy Museum one afternoon. (Mom, who’d gone earlier when someone she knew had a reception there and the museum was opened to the guests for an hour, skipped this trip.) 

It was a walk down memory lane for me, so to speak. I tell you, I had expected something of a joke--all James Bond and the Avengers or something--or a superficial whitewash, full of gimmicks and mock-ups. It's not. It's actually a serious museum--entertainment more than educations, despite the directorship’s assertions, but not a joke and not all that superficial. 

I mean, it's cleaned up for general consumption, but it's only romanticized a little, and it covers pretty much the whole business. It is skewed toward the WWII and Cold War eras, perhaps understandably, and it doesn't show much of the philosophically nastier, morally compromising aspects of the field, but it's pretty accurate in what it does show. 

There are James Bond and Maxwell Smart about--a replica of Bond’s tricked-out Aston Martin DB5 (from Goldfinger) and a big photo of Agent 86 on his shoe phone are on display--but for the most part, these are just what we used to call "eyewash." That was the expression we used in the army for window dressing to keep things lively when we had to deliver a briefing or other presentation. (The museum estimates that these pop-culture exhibits are about 5% of the collection.) 

The Hollywood-spy stuff contrasts with and spotlights the less glamorous, but more substantial, real-world espionage artifacts and displays.

The Spy Museum takes the definition of "spying" a little broadly, but that's all right in the context. For instance, the museum, which is divided into thematic sections including code-breaking, considers the Rosetta Stone (there’s a replica on display) as the first example of this. 

The real exhibits are actual artifacts of the spy biz from around the world. The museum promo claims it has the largest collection of such items on public display. (The 600-plus artifacts are supplemented by “historic photographs, interactive exhibits, dramatic audio-visual programming, and film to offer a hands-on and ‘immersive’ museum experience.”) 

Other exhibits include the Enigma machine, the legendary WWII German cipher device (it looks like a clumsy old typewriter), one of the items illustrating code-making and -breaking operations; a shoe transmitter (not to be confused with Maxwell Smart’s shoe phone), the Soviet eavesdropping device hidden inside the heel of a target’s shoe, one example of the listening apparatuses used by spy services; the type of umbrella a KGB assassin used to fire a poison pellet into the thigh of Bulgarian anticommunist Georgi Markov (1929-78) in London in 1978; and a mock-up of a car hollowed out so that agents, their bodies twisted and bent to conform to the secret compartments, can be hidden in it and infiltrated into a target country surreptitiously. 

(This last exhibit, by the way, was the same technique used in Berlin for a slightly different purpose when I was there: smuggling would-be refugees out of the East into West Germany or West Berlin. This was a field, called “exfiltration,” in which I was principally engaged for a good part of my assignment in Berlin, as I discuss in “Berlin Station”--ROT, 19 & 22 July 2009.) 

Represented in one way or another are personalities from Francis Gary Powers (1929-77), the U-2 spy pilot shot down over the Soviet Union in 1960, to Austin Powers. In between, there’s Sun Tzu (traditional: 544-496 BCE), who wrote The Art of War two-and-a-half millennia ago; Benedict Arnold (1741-1801), the Revolutionary War general who turned the plans of West Point over to the British; Feliks Dzerzhinsky (1877-1926), the founder of the KGB; Kim Philby (1912-88), the senior MI-6 officer who spied for and later defected to the Soviet Union; CIA turncoat Aldrich Ames (1941-2026), who earned $2.7 million from his KGB handlers; and Robert Hanssen (1944-2023), the FBI mole who spied for the Soviet Union and Russia for 22 years until he was unmasked in 2001.

I joked that the visit was a stroll down memory lane for me--but it really was to a large extent. The museum is something of a rabbit warren inside. (The facility is made up of five connected buildings--some old, some new--so floors, walls, and corridors don’t necessarily line up precisely. There are over 60,000 square feet of exhibit space. Ironically, the complex, which includes one building that was the home of the Communist Party in Washington 70 years ago, is only about a block from the FBI HQ.) 

When I left one exhibit area and followed a corridor to another, I emerged into a space with a large sign on the opposite wall that read: "BERLIN -- City of Spies"! It was a little stage set--a café table, walls with maps of Berlin, photos of street scenes with Soviet soldiers, and so on--all from the '60s. 

That's only a few years before my time there (1971-74), and little had changed in appearance between then and my day (except for up-dated uniforms from the post-WWII era to the Vietnam period). Talk about déjà vu!! I might even say, “déjà vu all over again,” since I’d had a sense of returning home when I arrived in Berlin that late-July day in 1971. 

If you read my reminiscences “Berlin Station” and “The Berlin Wall” (29 November 2009), you’ll see that even in the 1970s, Berlin, unlike West Germany, was still occupied territory and the three western allies continued to operate there much as they had in the years right after WWII at the start of the Cold War. 

And why not? The former capital of the German Reich was, as the museum asserts, perfectly situated to be the main spy perch for the NATO Allies--110 miles inside the strongest of the Soviet satellites, the Soviet showplace on the border with Western Europe. 

It was, indeed, the spy capital of Europe. It’s taken the fall of the Soviet Union and the collapse of European communism, a decade-and-a-half after I left Berlin, to change the political environment in that western enclave. 

I must have spent a half hour in this little corner of the museum looking over the visual display and the maps, which, after all, covered the territory in which I’d operated for a quarter of a decade thirty years earlier. Ahhh, nostalgia!

The Berlin display, including a reproduction of the tunnel under the Berlin Wall built so that the Western powers could tap into East German and Soviet communications lines, is part of the section called the “War of the Spies,” which focuses on Cold War intel and counterintel campaigns. 

Other themes in the exhibit are the “School for Spies,” a section that looks at what’s known as “tradecraft”--spying skills, techniques, and methods; “The Secret History of History,” covering the history of the field, including such figures as Mata Hari (1876-1917), who used some of the tricks of the world’s oldest profession to help her in the second-oldest, and Daniel Defoe (1876-1917), the author who was the “father of the British Secret Service”; “Spies Among Us,” which focuses on the espionage of the two world wars, including camera-carrying pigeons in WWI, the Enigma machine, and the Navajo codetalkers of WWII; and “All Is Not What It Seems,” which addresses espionage in the 21st century. 

If this sounds little like it comes out of a sense of paranoia and leads visitors to feel a little of that, too--well, that’s the nature of espionage. Indeed, there are signs all around the museum informing visitors that they are under surveillance--and there are microphones planted in several locations which other visitors can tap into and overhear you and your friends in conversation. 

(In 1964, some may know, as many as 40 listening devices were discovered within the walls of the U.S. Embassy in Moscow. When a new embassy was built decades later, it was abandoned before it could be occupied because security breaches made the presence of eavesdropping equipment a likelihood. Do you know the Soviet formula for concrete? It’s one part cement, three parts sand, and one part microphones. That’s a Russian joke, by the way.)

When I got to Berlin, the officer assigned to smooth my arrival at the unit told me that the Soviets, whose agents were parked in black Moskvitches or Volgas right outside the entrances to our compound, would know my name, rank--we wore civvies and called each other “Mr.” and “Miss” outside the office--and duty assignment within hours. 

Later, my colleagues and I would often remind each other that what we did, what spies and counterspies do fundamentally, is illegal. We routinely break the laws of the country in which we’re operating. 

My job in Berlin was to keep the Soviets and East Germans from doing to us exactly what we were trying to do to them--gather clandestine information they didn’t want us to have. 

This, of course, is the morally questionable aspect of the spy business that the museum doesn’t cover--the fact that lying--I had at least one cover identity--stealing, and sometimes even killing, are basic to the job description for the profession. 

Maxwell Smart and Austin Powers are made to be humorous and James Bond, Napoleon Solo, and Ilya Kuryakin are romanticized heroes who practice constant derring-do for the betterment of the good guys. (Oh, and the other side believes that’s what they’re doing, too.) 

But the world real espionage agents see is more like the one Richard Burton faced in The Spy Who Came in from the Cold--grey, often bleak, and morally ambiguous. The International Spy Museum doesn’t want you to think about that side of the subject; it’s not on display anywhere.

(In addition to my own recollections posted on ROT, I also suggest that anyone curious about this field have a look at my column on the German mini-series Der Illegale [ROT, 5 July 2009]. It describes a 1972 German TV docudrama based on a real espionage case from the ‘60s. 

(The mini-series was rebroadcast in Germany recently, so I assume it’s available on video--though probably not dubbed or even with subtitles. That’s too bad, because it’s about as real a depiction of the topic of the International Spy Museum as I’ve ever seen on film or tape while being excellently made and acted. 

(A film that shows Berlin as it was during the Occupation is 1950’s The Big Lift with Montgomery Clift and Paul Douglas. It’s not the greatest movie, but it was filmed in Berlin--with German actors in all the German roles and actual servicemen in the military parts other than the two Hollywood stars--and is a remarkably accurate portrayal of what it was like in the Occupation and, for the most part, right up through my time there. It comes on cable from time to time. 

(Oh, and all that rubble the Berliners are digging out with picks, shovels, and wheelbarrows in the flick? They made a mountain out of it, Teufelsberg, on top of which was the most secret installation in Cold War Berlin, an ASA--that’s the Army Security Agency--listening station called Field Station Berlin. It’s decommissioned now, of course--there’s no one to listen to anymore.)

As I said, the museum focuses heavily on WWII and, especially, the Cold War, and is therefore tilted toward the U.S./NATO-Soviet rivalry of the middle of the 20th century. 

Though it makes a claim to being “international” and non-ideological in its outlook, the Spy Museum doesn’t make much mention of other intelligence conflicts of the present and recent past, such as Mossad vs. the Arab and Muslim adversaries of Israel, the conflict between India and Pakistan, or the efforts of the People’s Republic of China to spy on . . . well, just about everyone. 

(There were Chinese spies in Berlin when I was there--among those you’d expect in the European arena, such as the Czechs, Poles, Bulgarians, French, British, and Canadians. By the time the Spy Museum was conceived, the Chinese were involved as much in industrial espionage as political and military spying--and almost everyone is a potential target. PRC spies haven’t been Wo Fat vs. Steve McGarrett for decades!) 

Maybe the museum’s focus will broaden now that it’s gotten established a little, but when I went, it was still 1980 inside the museum.

I don’t want to give the impression that the Spy Museum is an irretrievably flawed experience. If it doesn’t cover every aspect of the intelligence field, what it does cover is truthful, interesting, and engaging. My cousins and I were at the museum for about two hours--Mother had allowed us 1½ hours for her to go and come back to get us--and we had to rush through the last third. 

As the Washington Post’s Michael O'Sullivan remarks, the museum’s exhibits do suggest, however implicitly, “that lying for a living isn't as easy as it sounds.” 

(I can attest, from personal experience, that it’s an isolating and often lonely occupation. Army people love to talk shop when they socialize, and we could only talk shop with our fellow spooks. That severely circumscribed our social interaction.) 

The exhibits obviously will change from time to time, of course, and there’ll be special displays on operations and events of significance, including current developments, as the staff sees them. 

The museum recommends ordering advanced tix (which can be done online at www.spymuseum.org) that are date-and-time-specific. (There are plenty of eating places nearby, including the museum’s own restaurants, the Spy City Café and Zola, where you can while away an hour or two. The Crime & Punishment Museum is nearby, and the Portrait Gallery and American Art Museum across the street are free.)

It’s clear that the spy genre is still popular in storytelling. The Bond movies are still going strong (though I don’t find the new ones, since the demise of the Soviet Union as a foe, as much fun as the old ones with Connery and Moore--which Spike TV [rebranded as Paramount Network in 2018 and then Paramount Movie Network in 2020], the cable net, makes a habit of running regularly), John Le Carré (b. 1931) is still writing spy thrillers (though they, too, aren’t as engrossing as his classics like Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy and Smiley’s People [Le Carré died in 2020]), and a popular cable series is about an ex-spy in the “equalizer” biz now. 

Earlier this month, I watched an episode of one of the regular broadcast series that was plotted around an old Cold War espionage intrigue, with a former deputy CIA director involved with elements of the Stasi, the East German secret police. There’s still something in us that gravitates to the old spy tales. 

Back when I was still in college, when the Cold War was at its height, my dad was a diplomat in Germany. In 1968, East Germany published a book called Who’s Who in CIA (yes, that was its slightly ungrammatical title), which purported to list everyone in “the civil and military branches of the secret services of the USA in 120 countries.” 

Back in Washington, everyone rushed to see who was in the book. If you were named, you were “somebody” around town; if not, you were in the out crowd. Dad, who was a cultural attaché and wasn’t involved with any kind of intelligence work, was listed. (He went out and bought a copy of the book, of course.) 

Interestingly, the book has my dad’s bio details essentially correct, except for one small inaccuracy. For his military service during WWII, the book asserts that Dad was a captain in the CIC, the Counterintelligence Corps (the precursor to Military Intelligence Branch, in which I served thirty years later). 

In truth, Dad was an artillery battery commander; after VE day, during the beginning of the Occupation--before he was home--he was detailed briefly to the CIC because he spoke German, which the army needed to interrogate German detainees they suspected of having been Nazis or Reich officials. 

That was the extent of my father’s intelligence work for the United States. The ironic coda to the story is that the actual CIA officer in the Bonn embassy (whom I won’t name, though I suspect she’s dead by now)--not an agent, of course, because her position was overt--isn’t listed in the book.