Excerpt: 'A G-Man's Life: The FBI, Being 'Deep Throat' and the Struggle for Honor in Washington'

April 23, 2006— -- Mark Felt's life in the FBI was shrouded in secrecy until last year when he came forward and admitted that he was "Deep Throat," the man behind President Nixon's demise. Felt leaked the details of the Watergate scandal to Washington Post reporters Carl Bernstein and Bob Woodward, but kept his identity hidden. He provides more details of his life in a new book co-written with John O'Connor. Read excerpt below.

Hoover's Acolyte

In the spring of 1954 I received the invitation I had awaited for a dozen years. I was shown into an imposing conference room in the heart of the U.S. Justice Department headquarters inWashington. Portraits and other artwork adorned the fifty-footwalls. The center of the room was occupied by a massive table andbeyond it stood a ceremonial executive desk. My destination was aspartan private office in the rear, dominated by a well-worn deskpiled high with papers and files. As my host rose to greet me, Isensed his great power. After a long apprenticeship in the FederalBureau of Investigation -- all of it spent preparing for this moment -- I was about to have my first private meeting with J. Edgar Hoover.

I had seen Hoover face-to-face once before and experienced hisintimidating presence. During the final week of my basic FBI trainingin 1942, a reception was held for the young agents of Class 15 at theMayflower Hotel inWashington. Before the director arrived, we werecarefully instructed how to handle ourselves. We must not crowdaround him.We were to form a line and march by to shake his hand,with no unnecessary conversation. Our handshake had to be firm butnot too firm. Hoover disliked a "bone crusher" as well as a limp grip.He detested moist palms, and we were told to have a dry handkerchiefready to wipe off any sweat before the crucial handclasp.

Hoover arrived at precisely 6:30 P.M. He strode into the roombriskly with Clyde Tolson, associate director, trailing, as always, afew steps behind. Hoover was vigorous and alert, dignified butfriendly, and in complete control. He was forty-seven years old andat the peak of his physical capacities. Perhaps more than anythingelse, I noticed his immaculate appearance. He looked as if he hadshaved, showered, and put on a freshly pressed suit for the occasion.Through the years, I never saw him looking otherwise.

The handshaking ceremony took less than fifteen minutes. Eachof us received a quick, tight smile from the director. As the lastmember of the class passed by, Tolson, who had scrutinized eachnew agent, approached the director and whispered in his ear. A fewseconds later, they were on their way out of the room, Tolson againa few steps behind.

Now, in 1954, I was one-on-one with the director, trying to keepmy palms warm and dry. Hoover held out his hand and said, "It'snice to see you, Mr. Felt." His square face was accentuated by a juttingjaw. His piercing eyes bore into mine, sizing me up. He wasstocky but not fat. He carried himself with a military bearing thatmade him appear taller than his 5 feet 10. His voice was strong andcultivated, with a trace of southern accent. His clothes were asimmaculate as ever. I particularly remember his bright necktie.

Hoover was cordial and gracious as he took a seat behind thedesk he had used from his first day as director (and would use untilthe day he died). I did not feel intimidated or uncomfortable as Ilaunched into my presentation. I had a message to get across. It wascommon knowledge that Hoover promoted only those who had ademonstrated commitment to the Bureau and a "burning desire" torise in its hierarchy. I wanted to convey those qualities to him.