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.
"Mr. Hoover," I said, "I feel ready for more responsibility. Myambition is to be a special agent in charge. I feel confident I can handlethe job whenever you feel I am ready for it."
Hoover looked pleased. "Mr. Felt, I am glad to hear that," hesaid. "We need ambitious, hardworking young men. You can be sureI will give you consideration when promotions are being made."
He began to discuss problems facing the FBI. In his forceful, staccatostyle, he spoke of the demands that Congress and the AtomicEnergy Commission were making on the Bureau, requiring timeconsumingbackground clearances for AEC employees. I took copiousnotes, but after ten minutes I wondered if I was being tested. Itwas not easy to interrupt J. Edgar Hoover, but when he paused forbreath, I pointed out that this was a very real problem in the Seattleoffice, where I was stationed. "We conduct thousands of these investigations,"I said. "Most of them are routine and could be handled bythe Civil Service Commission. The FBI has more important thingsto do and we should be responsible for only the top positions."
Hoover thought for a minute and then agreed. "You are probablyright. We'll have to take a long, hard look at this problem." He did,and my career may have turned on this exchange. From that pointon, I injected myself into the conversation whenever possible. Wetalked for about thirty minutes and then he rose, holding out hishand. "Mr. Felt, I enjoyed this conversation," he said. "You can besure you will be kept in mind for a promotion."Six days later, back in Seattle, I received a letter from Hoovertransferring me to Washington -- the "seat of government" (SOG) ashe called it. I was now an inspector's aide, the next step up on thepromotion ladder.
Washington was the center of the world in those postwar years,and Hoover's FBI was one of the capital's most respected institutions.As I rose to the top ranks of the FBI hierarchy under Hoover, Ihad the FBI career kids dreamed of in those days: a counterspy against the Nazis, a crime buster arresting dangerous felons, and finally a top official in Washington taking on domestic terrorists andpolitical corruption.
Toward the end of my three decades in the Bureau, however, thisservice was turned against me. Critics in the Nixon administrationand the Justice Department denounced me as a "Hooverite," someoneoverly attached to the director's secretive leadership style. Yes, Iwas a Hoover loyalist and remained so. Hoover was a political operativepar excellence, a genius at manipulating Congress and thepress. But he used these skills to protect the standing of the FBI asan incorruptible institution, as the paragon of science and criminologythat "always gets its man." After his passing, our first challengewas to maintain those standards against an administration determinedto make the FBI into a political tool for its own use.
Unquestionably, Hoover put his stamp on the men who servedhim. His ideal agent was tall, slim, and rock-jawed, like Efrem Zimbalist,Jr. on television's The F.B.I., an actor approved by Hoover personally.His agents were expected to handle a prodigious number ofcases, and they prospered by solving high-profile crimes, making thebureau look invincible in the public eye. Hoover's G-men alwayscomported themselves with an aura of professionalism in public.Maintaining appearances was key to winning Hoover's good graces.Working within his strict organizational scheme and thinkingclearly were just as important.
After being transferred to SOG, I had to learn the tricks of thetrade. I quickly found out, for example, that Hoover would notaccept a long memorandum. Getting his favorable responsedepended on a succinct presentation. I also learned the importanceof the abstract -- a three-by-five typed slip with the title of the document,the date, to whom addressed, the name of the writer, and aone- or two-sentence description of the content of the document.Hoover went through a tremendous volume of reports and letterseach day, and he usually read only the abstract. If that piqued hisinterest, he read the document itself. Unlike many agents, I tookspecial care to write a good abstract. Careful wording was oftenenough to point Hoover in the desired direction.
Under no circumstances would Hoover tolerate a lapse of discipline.His seat of government was the nerve center of a tightly controlledand responsive organization. SOG occupied 40 percent of theimposing Justice Department building on Pennsylvania Avenue, andfrom there it directed all field operations. The special agent incharge (SAC) of every field office across the country conducted hisown local operations, but he was kept under constant supervisionthrough correspondence, carefully reviewed reports, and a systemof annual inspections. In turn, SOG was scrutinized by Hoover, whokept his finger on everything and made all the decisions from theapex of the pyramid.
Headquarters operations at the time consisted of eight divisions.*They competed with each other to extract the maximumamount of work from the field. The SACs had to juggle operationsin a way that kept the power centers happy. Politics permeatedeverything in Washington, and sound political skills were requiredto climb the FBI pyramid. Every field agent had a chance to learnthe ropes at SOG during in-service training, a two-week session heldat regular intervals in Washington and at the FBI Academy in Quantico,Virginia.
Some disagreed, but I thought this training was valuable for passingon the benefit of other agents' experience and sharing new investigativetechniques. The first week in Washington consisted entirelyof lectures by Bureau supervisors, each an expert in his field. Forexample, we would hear from someone on the bank robbery desk,where eight or ten supervisors divided up responsibility for investigatingcrimes in various regions of the country. In addition to theselectures, there were two full days of firearms training at Quantico,and hours devoted to solving hypothetical arrest problems.Making it in Hoover's FBI meant staying on top of the latesttechniques in criminal justice -- and looking professional while doingit. J. Edgar Hoover always insisted that his agents dress like thelawyers and accountants most of them were and avoid any hint ofslacking off -- not even taking a public coffee break. Agents whowere short in stature had to work extra hard to prove themselves,and agents who were noted as overweight on their annual physicalsoon found "fat" letters in their mailboxes.
Hoover was obsessed with fighting the battle of the bulge. Hehad studied life insurance charts that suggested "minimum," "desirable,"and "maximum" weights for each height and frame. He arbitrarilydecided that each agent must fall into the "desirable"category. This standard made sense for most agents, and in my casethey meant bringing down my weight from 181 pounds to a healthier171. Hoover himself gained weight over the years, eventuallyreaching over 200 pounds. But, full of enthusiasm for his new program,he plunged into a four-month regimen of diet and exercise,losing thirty-three pounds. He achieved the desirable bracket butcouldn't maintain it. At death he was sixteen pounds over the standardhe demanded of others.
Most agents adjusted to the weight standards without much difficulty,but some could not. The penalty was "limited duty" status,which excluded them from dangerous assignments or strenuousphysical exertion, with an added forfeiture of overtime pay. Hereagent ingenuity came into play. A sympathetic physician could betalked into listing an agent with a medium frame as having a heavyframe, a difference of fourteen pounds in allowable weight. Or hemight add an inch to an agent's height, which added five pounds tothe allowable weight. I did nothing to stop these practices in myjurisdictions. But as pressure from SOG increased, the Bureauinstructed each office to obtain scales and measuring tapes. Agentswho had a weight problem were to be weighed and measured everythirty days until they achieved the desired bracket. One of my agentsspent hours in the steam room and took no liquids for days beforethe weigh-in. An agent with an unusually heavy bone structure tookon a skeletal appearance, and I ordered him to gain ten pounds.
Despite the excessive aspects, we appreciated Hoover's goal: tofashion the FBI into a model of public service in action and appearance,an organization that criminals would fear and good citizenswould adulate. This was the vision that drew children to become"Junior G-men" and persuaded qualified young men to join theBureau in spite of the modest pay, long hours, and family disruptionsthat characterized an FBI career. I personally felt privileged tojoin this indispensable American institution. I could not foresee thesocial and political forces that would assault the FBI while I served it,and the anguish that would mark the end of my career.