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SUFFERING FOOLS
Some people are able see the glory in their own lives (even if there is none), and there are some who say that were they able to change anything in their lives they would not do so. I cannot place my self in either of those categories. One thing I definitely would change is the amount of time I spent suffering fools. There are a lot of people in this world who just simply are unbearable, and I’ve met more than my share of them.
The first FBI special agent-in-charge (SAC) for whom I worked in St Louis was a perfect example. He was possibly the dumbest (and pompous – but those attributes always seem compatible) man with whom I have ever spoken. J. Edgar Hoover, when asked during an interview what kind of man he sought to head his field offices around the country, said: “An idiot can run any of my field offices as long as he is an obedient idiot.” What he meant by that, of course, was that he and only he ran the FBI and anyone who was inclined to an original thought had better keep it to himself. There were, of course, exceptions, but in that particular SAC, Hoover found the paradigm.
Here's a glimpse: On the eve of the arrival of the infamous inspection team from Bureau headquarters (each Division in those days was inspected periodically to ensure it was following the proper procedures set out by the Bureau), the SAC actually came out of his office (where he spent most of his time hiding) to meet with all agents. He was particularly disturbed about the decline in the arrest and conviction statistics. He started by berating us because the statistics showed a 50 percent drop in kidnap convictions. When one of the older agents pointed out that while there had been two kidnappings in the Division the previous year, both of which resulted in convictions, there had only been one kidnapping during the current year, which also resulted in conviction, the "boss" glared at him and said he did not want to argue the point.
My first day as a new FBI agent was a good day until it ended with a meeting in the office of the SAC. My wife Cass, and our oldest son, Bob, had spent the day ensconced in a hotel room a few blocks from the office. Bob was not yet three years old, and Cass was four months pregnant with Tim. I remember putting in a long day looking for a fugitive outside the city with Eddie Moreland, the experienced agent who was shepherding me around the area. When we returned to the office, well after quitting time, the SAC (who had no family) called Russ Lafferty (another new agent who had been in my new agents’ class and had come with me to St. Louis), a recently arrived second office agent, Bob Hess, and myself into his office for a “get acquainted chat.” He kept us there for over an hour apparently hell bent on showing us just how stupid he was (which actually took less than five minutes). The gist of that one-way conversation was not enlightening; it mainly dealt with his greatness (in his own mind). I have always regretted not telling him I had more important things to do that evening, and leaving to take care of my pregnant wife and two year old son, who surely were tired of being cooped up in a hotel room all day, and hungrily awaiting me to take them out to dinner.
I don’t remember ever speaking another word to that idiot, until receiving a transfer to California six months later. Upon transfer, new agents were required to undergo what was considered an exit interview with the SAC before departing the St. Louis Division. While he was perusing my file and memoranda from my supervisor, during that interview, he couldn’t help noticing that I had made six arrests that had resulted in five convictions (with one pending) during my very short stay in the office. Considering the overall office statistics were, to say the least, nothing to brag about, his attitude changed dramatically and he picked up his phone telling me he would call the Bureau and quash the transfer in a second if that would please me. Staying in an office headed by a moron was the last thing I wanted to do, and our young family (Bob was then 3 yrs old and Tim was 3 weeks) was soon on its way to California.
That was neither the first nor the last fool I suffered during my various careers (he was probably the worst, though), and I still regret suffering any of them. We Christians are required to love such fools – not to tolerate or suffer them.
(On such things does one ruminate while paddling a one person kayak miles out in the ocean – closer to God.)
