Federal Bureau of Investigation job offer

[susnfx]

Last night, while rummaging through some old papers, I came across the letter from the FBI offering me a job. It's dated May 13, 1970, and addressed to Miss Susan Fox (no Ms. back then). I was offered an appointment as a clerk-typist with the monumental salary of $5212 per annum less necessary deductions. I was to report to FBI headquarters in Washington DC on June 8, 1970 (knee surgery delayed my reporting for six months) and I was admonished that "this letter should be considered strictly confidential and given no publicity" in keeping with the Director's obsession with secrecy. It's signed J.E. Hoover.

It took me back to those 3-1/2 years with The Bureau--what a time I had! An 18-year-old kid from Kanab, Utah (population about 1500 at the time) heading off to Washington DC to work for The Bureau.

My first job was in a tiny little office adjoining the promotions dept. (just what it sounds like--we worked with clerical raises). My job was to take the employment application of every new agent hired by The Bureau and type (no computers then) on little tabs the college they attended, if they were a Boy Scout or an Eagle Scout, what their degree was in, etc., etc. and file the little interlocking tabs in big long skinny drawers. Then when the Boy Scouts of America called The Bureau and said, "We'd like to know how many of your agents [who were considered very superior guys in those days] belonged to the Boy Scouts," I'd pull out the little drawer and count the Boy Scout tabs and send the reply.

Occasionally we'd get a phone call from someone "upstairs" saying there was a bomb threat. This was common enough that no one took it seriously. We were instructed to look in our desk drawers and get back to work. Only once were we evacuated.

Several times I ran into Mr. Hoover and his sidekick, Mr. Tolson, coming back from lunch at the elevators. If this occurred we weren't supposed to get in the elevator with them, but allow them to take any available elevator--nobody told me this until long afterwards. I would get into the elevator with the two of them, making them stop at the third floor so I could get off and they could continue to the fifth floor. Jedgar never said anything to me--just nodded his head. Mr. Tolson just leaned against the elevator wall, breathing heavily (I don't think he was in good health).

Well, I could go on and on...there were a million little quirky things that happened while working for them. I spent 1-1/2 years in Washington and 2 years in the San Diego field office (MUCH more exciting). Jedgar died while I was working in Washington and the little supervisor I worked for who'd been with the Bureau for 100 years was hysterical. Personally, I didn't miss him that much, but it was certainly the end of an interesting era.

One of these days I'll write it all down and leave it for posterity...who will say (as a young friend said when I was speaking of J. Edgar Hoover some years ago), "Who?"

Susan

[Innocent Bystander]

So if Susan suddenly disappears, we'll know why.

[djm]

Not to pee on your parade, but if you weren't working directly with JEH your biography would quickly be discounted as hear-say for anything you did not participate in hands-on, or have proof of.

djm

[Bloomfield]

Not to pee on your parade, but if you weren't working directly with JEH your biography would quickly be discounted as hear-say for anything you did not participate in hands-on, or have proof of.

djm

I think you misunderstood, but what's new.

Funny, Susan, to look back and wonder how did you get from the secret pinnacle of secretarydom to wedding vows on yellow post-it notes? It beggars the mind. I'm sorry I still owe you that money for lunch, but a friend of mine is supposed to pay me back soon and he's got a 100% sure tip for the Downs and that'll pay off big, of course if you could advance us a little, we would cut you in.

[susnfx]

Not to pee on your parade, but if you weren't working directly with JEH your biography would quickly be discounted as hear-say for anything you did not participate in hands-on, or have proof of.

I didn't mean posterity in general...as in a book. I meant for my family. Nevertheless...I did read a book by an ex-agent called "No Left Turns" about his years with the Bureau during Hoover's reign. It was very funny and would have been considered humorous fiction by anyone who hadn't actually worked for the FBI. It was such a bizarre atmosphere.

Bloo, I've heard that "I'll pay you back as soon as ..." from you far too many times. I'm afraid the yellow post-it note has (physically and emotionally), well, yellowed with age and neglect. That said, if you could just come up with one payment for the condo (where you said you were setting me up in style), my icy mien might just thaw a little and we could get back to the hot rendevouz (what's plural for rendevouz?) we once knew.

Susan

[djm]

I think you misunderstood, but what's new.

It's a tough job, but someone's got to sidestep it.

djm

[anniemcu]

Ah, the 70's... early jobs, and ... ah, Kanab... I lived there for a few weeks while working on one of my 'secret missions'. I worked for a surveying company, and my 'uniform' was jeans, long johns, flannel shirt, wool socks and heavy hiking boots. I had my hair long then and usually wore it in a braid, topped by either a bill cap or a cowboy type hat. I was pretty slim, not particularly busty, and long legged, and so from the back, my appearance didn't necessarily shout 'female', hence taunts of 'queer'. I found it more laughable than threatening, then anyway... as I certainly knew which guys I wasn't going to let buy me a drink in the bar that night!

Susan, I think your memoirs would be very interesting, and your descendants will be grateful for the peek into your life.

[susnfx]

Annie, you found the bar in Kanab??!? Heehee... there was one "bar" in Kanab--a beer bar where there was a pool table and they served beer only. I never saw past the front door. It was frequented by old codgers with day-old beards and cow manure on their boots and young troublemakers (some of whom I dated). The real bar was The Tonk (real name The Buckskin Tavern) four miles out of town, just over the border in Arizona. Great bar where you could get a real drink, play pool and, on weekends, dance western with tall lanky cowboys (hats on, of course).

Susan

[anniemcu]

Annie, you found the bar in Kanab??!? Heehee... there was one "bar" in Kanab--a beer bar where there was a pool table and they served beer only. I never saw past the front door. It was frequented by old codgers with day-old beards and cow manure on their boots and young troublemakers (some of whom I dated). The real bar was The Tonk (real name The Buckskin Tavern) four miles out of town, just over the border in Arizona. Great bar where you could get a real drink, play pool and, on weekends, dance western with tall lanky cowboys (hats on, of course).

Susan

That could well be the place. I left the driving to other members of the crew. And at that point, i thought that once a cowboy put his hat on it was pretty much permanent!

In all honesty, we didn't spend much time in the local establishments - our 'doin's' were not intended to draw the attention of the locals.

[emmline]

what's plural for rendevouz?

Les rendezvous.

I liked that story Susan. Very evocative of the time and place.

[susnfx]

Can't imagine who you were working for, Annie. If it was an oil company, the locals would have greeted you with open arms. Now if it was some sort of environmental survey, I could see the need for blending into the background. This is the town, after all, where Robert Redford was burned in effigy for his fight against the Kapairowits power project.

Les rendezvous...how lovely...it sounds French somehow.

Susan

[Bloomfield]

Bloo, I've heard that "I'll pay you back as soon as ..." from you far too many times. I'm afraid the yellow post-it note has (physically and emotionally), well, yellowed with age and neglect. That said, if you could just come up with one payment for the condo (where you said you were setting me up in style), my icy mien might just thaw a little and we could get back to the hot rendevouz (what's plural for rendevouz?) we once knew.

Susan

I can't believe how cold you sound, honey! I don't even recognize you---that's not my Soozie-darling. Don't you remember all the good times? How we laughed and loved! Like the time I didn't have change for the parking meter, and you said you had some and you'd go, only you got there late and they had already given me a ticket, and I made you pay for it? Or the time I told you you couldn't pour that drink in my face because I had paid for it (well, I was planning to pay for it, honest), and you said you didn't care and poured it over me anyway and then you had to pay for it because I'd accidentally left my wallet? Such times we had! You can't run away from love! The bonds that bind and the spots on the tiger, and all that, honey.

About that condo, I had to let that go, unfortunately, because I had this fantastic opportunity for a '73 Harley that I knew you wouldn't have wanted me to pass up, except that... well, I know that you are glad that I am fine and that there'll be no lasting damage. Hey, by the way I still had your insurance card when they took me to the hospital and I hope you don't mind? The operation can't have been THAT much.

Now about that tip my friend got for the Downs, I feel really good about that one, it's a cinch, and I know you still have that silver tea set from your great-grand mother, we'll redeem that first thing after we collect, of course!, but it's just standing around right now and my buddy and I we're both a bit short, what with the new bike (not as nice as the '73, but you'll like it). Tell you what, why don't I just drop by Saturday to pick up the tea set? It'll be nice to see you again! All the great memories, you know.

[djm]

You can't make stuff like that up. He really did!

djm

[susnfx]

After appearing in bankruptcy court this morning, I'm inclined to give you yet another chance, Bloo. The judge said he'd seen the bike and he could certainly understand you needing it (although he did say he would have taken off the hot pink saddlebags). And after agreeing that the tea set and straight teeth were my only assets, he felt I should take any opportunity for love that presented itself. He also said anybody who could con a doctor into performing two liposuctions on him for free (I had to tell him about that part--he was wondering about your "before" and "after" and then "after" again pictures) could certainly find a way to keep me in the manner to which (thanks to you) I've become accustomed.

I look forward to your visit (don't bring the buddy--he/she's had way too much influence over you of late).

Susan

[jim stone]

I applied to an ad from Playboy magazine in 1966--they
were looking for a philosopher. I went down to the
Playboy office (I lived in Chicago). They photographed
me with a polaroid camera.

My first assignment was to answer a letter from
a group in California that believed the world exists
only if it's perceived. They were Berklean Idealists.
From this they were deducing principles of free love
for which Playboy stood at the time.

I responded that Playboy was more interested in social
and political philosophy than metaphysics and epistemology.
However we were delighted people were arguing
metaphysically for conclusions we advanced for
more practical reasons.

Also I observed that Berklean idealism appears to
lead to solipsism. If the world exists in my mind,
then I'm the only subject. Sexual freedom in this
circumstance is inevitable but perhaps unrewarding.

So it went. Playboy was deeply into the Playboy Philosophy
at the time, arguing that pleasure and the enjoyment of
material things was simply good, and could be rejected
only on account of vestigial American puritanism.
There were vigorous debates in Playboy between
theologians, philosophers, etc. Presidential candidates
were interviewed and there were stories by
Nobel Prize winning writers, like Isaac Bashevis
Singer.

I was payed virtually nothing, but I kept at it in the
hope they would one day throw me a Bunny.
But it never happened.