Destiny Betrayed: JFK, Cuba, & the Garrison Case

by DiEugenio, James

  On the evening of November 22, 1963, Gary Underhill was a deeply troubled man. What he had learned, and the fact that they knew he had learned it, were too much for him. He had to escape. Once he was out of Washington, he could regain his equilibrium. Then he would decide what to do. He had friends in New York he could talk to without fear of the word getting back to Washington.

  He arrived on Long Island the next morning.121 His friend Robert Fitzsimmons was asleep. He and his wife, Charlene—Bob called her Charlie—were about to leave on a long trip to Spain that day. When Underhill learned of the trip, he said, “You’re going to Spain? That’s the best thing to do. I’ve got to get out of the country, too. This country is too dangerous for me now.” He paused and added, “I’ve got to get on a boat, too. I’m really afraid for my life.”122

  Charlene Fitzsimmons realized something was wrong with the usually rational and objective Underhill. But Underhill insisted he had not been drinking. It was the Kennedy assassination, he explained. It was not what it seemed to be. “Oswald is a patsy. They set him up. It’s too much. The bastards have done something outrageous. They’ve killed the President! I’ve been listening and hearing things. I couldn’t believe they’d get away with it, but they did!”

  Charlie did not know what he was talking about. Who were “they”?

  “We, I mean the United States. We just don’t do that sort of thing! They’ve gone mad! They’re a bunch of drug runners and gun runners—a real violence group. God, the CIA is under enough pressure already without that bunch in Southeast Asia. Kennedy gave them some time after the Bay of Pigs. He said he’d give them a chance to save face.”

  He could tell Charlie did not believe him. “They’re so stupid,” he continued. “They can’t even get the right man. They tried it in Cuba, and they couldn’t get away with it. Right after the Bay of Pigs. But Kennedy wouldn’t let them do it. And now he’d gotten wind of this, and he was really going to blow the whistle on them. And they killed him!

  “But I know who they are. That’s the problem. They know I know. That’s why I’m here. I can’t stay in New York. Can you put me up?”

  Charlie reminded him they were leaving for Europe in a few hours and would be gone for months.

  “Well, maybe I can go with you.”

  Charlie was frightened now. Recovering, she said he could stay there for a few hours. When Bob came down, he might let him have the key to the place for a few days.

  Underhill mulled it over for a few seconds. “No, that’s all right. Maybe I shouldn’t leave the country.” He turned toward the door. “I’ll come back in a couple of hours. Bob will be up by then.” He walked out without saying where he was going. It was the last time the Fitzsimmonses would see their troubled friend.

  John Garrett Underhill knew whereof he spoke. He had attended Harvard and then served in military intelligence during World War II.123 His family had been active in military-political affairs for a long time. Underhill himself was an expert on limited warfare and small arms. After the war he had shuttled back and forth between special assignments for the CIA and consulting for Henry Luce at Life and Fortune. He had had a strong influence on Luce’s views of both World War II and Korea.124

  Underhill was close to top military brass and higher-ups in the CIA,125 and had voiced his fears about these people to another friend, Asher Brynes,126 a writer for The New Republic who also knew Underhill’s estranged wife, Patricia.127 Underhill did not leave the country after his visit to the Fitzsimmonses. He returned to Washington and began quietly to investigate the assassination. He spoke about it to Brynes.

  On May 8, 1964, Brynes visited Underhill’s apartment. When no one answered, he walked in, to discover Underhill in bed sleeping. As he approached his friend, he noticed that his face seemed discolored. It had a yellow-green hue.128 Brynes drew closer and saw a bullet hole in his friend’s head. Underhill was dead and had been for days. Yet no one in the apartment house had heard a gun go off. Odder still, Underhill had been shot behind the left ear and the gun was under his left side, yet Underhill was right-handed.129 Despite these strange circumstances, the coroner ruled the death a suicide. Brynes was disgusted with the conclusion, but did not pursue the matter. Patricia Underhill would not talk to anyone about her husband’s death and refused to turn over any papers he may have written concerning the assassination.130

  Each one of these events was concealed, discounted, or tampered with by the authorities. And the Warren Commission did nothing with them. Therefore, they lay dormant for four years.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Witches’ Brew

  “Obviously something was going on … they were trying to put a cover on it. The idea behind it was cover, cover, cover …”

  —Gordon Novel describing Banister’s preparations for the Bay of Pigs

  In the immediate aftermath of the assassination, Oswald seemed less a person than a projection of our own personal demons and our disdain for the image of Dallas: nouveau riche, coarse, rightwing, and redneck—the only big city that pelted and spat upon then U.N. Ambassador Adlai Stevenson. And so with Oswald.

  Due to the shock of the assassination and the biased and shallow reporting, the picture we received of him, the one the general public retains, is foreshortened, superficial, and, in light of the current record, distorted. Unfortunately, Oswald had no opportunity to correct it. The Dallas police made no stenographic record or audio recordings of his twelve hours of questioning.1 He requested legal counsel, but ended up with none. Then his life was snuffed out while he was literally in the arms of the police. Oswald never admitted shooting anyone, which would seem odd in the wake of a politically motivated crime. What most people remember is the image that was heard and seen and read over those two days of incarceration and accusation: a poor, white non-conformist who was a warehouse worker at the book depository in front of which the Presidential motorcade passed. Whatever was known about his past, beyond the commonly reported events of his time in the Soviet Union and his military service, seemed reduced to a single photo-image: film clips of him in dark clothes passing out “Hands Off Cuba” flyers in downtown New Orleans. That picture seemed to sum up the case: a lonely figure in dark clothes, passing out communist literature as people walk by. Oswald’s sponsoring organization was the Fair Play for Cuba Committee. The Committee did exist, based in New York City, but oddly, Oswald was the only member of the New Orleans chapter. The address stamped on the literature was 544 Camp Street.

  In its multitude of glaring omissions, the Warren Report never got to the bottom of the intriguing mystery of 544 Camp Street. If Oswald was the only member of the organization, why did he use that address, the Newman Building? It was not his home address. If he was making about a hundred dollars a month and spending about sixty on rent, how could he afford an office?2 For that is what the Camp Street address was, an office building. If he did not rent space there—as the owner of the building, Samuel Newman, said—did someone rent a room for him or lend him an office to use?3

  This mystery could have been solved by looking through one of the FBI reports submitted to the Warren Commission. The report is a nine-line summary of an interview with former FBI agent Guy Banister, the detective who beat up his assistant, Jack Martin, on the day of the assassination. The address given in the report for Banister’s office is 531 Lafayette Street.4 Newman’s office building was located at the corner of Lafayette and Camp. If one entered on the Lafayette side, the address was 531; if one entered on the Camp side, it was 544. In J. Edgar Hoover’s (deliberately) evasive inquiry into the assassination, he tried to cover up this point from both the Warren Commission and the public. Not long after the assassination, New Orleans special agent Harry Maynor drafted a message that was changed before it arrived at FBI HQ. This message was directed to Director Hoover. Scratched out, but still visible, are the words, “Several Fair Play for Cuba pamphlets contained address 544 Camp Street.”5 Also, when the FBI forwarded its very few and skimpy reports on Banist
er to the Warren Commission—in which they did not question him about Oswald—they failed to use the 544 Camp Street address. They used the alternative address of 531 Lafayette.6 This may have some significance. For the Commission did print one flyer Oswald had been distributing that summer that included the Camp Street address. It was the famous pamphlet written by wealthy New York activist Corliss Lamont entitled “The Crime Against Cuba.”7 So even if the Commission had tried to connect the two addresses, they would have a hard time doing so.

  Why did FBI Director Hoover attempt to conceal any relationship between Guy Banister and Oswald? Because, as with David Ferrie, it is difficult to reconcile the politics and activism of Banister with the image of Oswald as presented in the Warren Commission. In fact, some would say it is not possible to do so. Banister, who died of a heart attack in 1964, was a compelling character. He spent a large part of his life in law enforcement. Born in Monroe, Louisiana, in 1901, he attended LSU and Soule College in New Orleans. He began his career as an investigator for the Monroe Police Department and then received an appointment as a patrol officer in 1929.8 He quickly became assistant to the Chief of Police and, a year later, he became Chief of Detectives. In 1934, Banister was sworn in as a special agent of the Bureau of Investigation, the forerunner to the FBI. At that time, this agency was run by Hoover. He was first stationed in Indianapolis. In 1935 he relocated to New York City. It was here that Banister developed his interest in surveilling and rooting out communists. This was through his colleague George Starr. Starr spoke fluent Russian, as his father had trained race horses for the Czar. For years, Starr was Hoover’s designated leader in conducting investigations of communist subversion. In fact, he taught these techniques to fellow agents. One was Banister. As Banister rose in the Bureau, he began to supervise other agents doing this kind of inquiry. And what is important here, he also developed informers within leftist ranks. As he referred to them, “they were counterspies sent in to report on the activities of the Party members.”9 Banister was to specialize in this activity for Hoover for seventeen years.

  From New York he transferred to Newark. He then became Special Agent in Charge (SAC), that is, running the office, in Butte, Montana. During the war, he juggled between Oklahoma City, Minneapolis, and Butte. In January of 1954, he became SAC of the Chicago office. In a move that has never been fully explained, he retired from the FBI at the end of 1954. He moved back to New Orleans and was hired by Mayor DeLesseps Morrison to run Internal Affairs and clean up a corrupt police department. He was then promoted to Deputy Superintendent of Police. In 1956 Morrison appointed him to a much more natural position. He was to prepare a study on the influence of communist subversion in New Orleans. This was to be done in conjunction with rightwing Senator James Eastland’s Senate Internal Security Sub-Committee. It was at this time that many of Banister’s worst traits began to surface. He was an extreme racial bigot, and his politics were near neo-Nazi. For instance, he was closely tied to the state Sovereignty Committee, a very conservative group that was anti-integration and McCarthyite in its anti-Communism. In March of 1957, at the Old Absinthe House in the French Quarter, Banister’s violent nature ended his career on the police force. Apparently, at least a bit drunk, Banister drew his gun on a bartender and said, “I have already killed two men and another wouldn’t make any difference.”10 About a year later, he set up Guy Banister Associates, his own private investigation firm.

  His business was first located in a small office on Robert E. Lee Boulevard. But Banister then moved to the Balter Building. As William Davy notes in Let Justice Be Done, that building was named after its owner, Colonel Buford Balter, who was another extreme right winger.11 In fact, according to a 1962 FBI report made by Banister employee Dan Campbell, Balter partly financed a trip by American Nazi leader George Lincoln Rockwell to New Orleans. One of the purposes of the meeting was to discuss a merger between the Rockwell group and the Klan.12 It would seem that one reason Banister’s office was housed there was, since his political philosophy was in tune with Buford Balter’s, he probably could get a good deal on a lease.

  For the evidence indicates that Banister did little, if any, detective work himself. This became clear at an early date. Joe Oster was a friend of Banister’s from the local police force. Banister hired him as investigator and treasurer. Oster quit when he found himself doing most of the work and Banister not taking advantage of potentially lucrative investigations.13 Garrison investigator George Eckert found another source that said Banister’s friends never bought the idea that he had separated himself from the government. He accepted fees for investigatory services that were well under the going rate. He then maintained “connections with sources, which provided him technical assistance.”14 In that regard, Oster recalled that Banister could actually pick up the phone and talk to J. Edgar Hoover.15 This is an important point in regards to the FBI cover up about Oswald’s flyers mentioned above. Oster recalled that Banister also got less and less choosy about who he hired. At first he stuck with FBI veterans like himself. But he later got less discerning, since he spent most of his time building his file system of perceived Communist sympathizers in the area. For instance, Banister published something called Louisiana Intelligence Digest. This publication stated that the civil rights movement was a communist front and ridiculed President Kennedy for being soft on communism since he supported the movement.16 Banister testified before a Special Committee of the Arkansas State Legislature, where he claimed that Communists were behind the riots that followed the integration of the Little Rock, Arkansas, public school system.17 Some of Banister’s later behavior can be attributed to his firing from the police force by Morrison. His sister-in-law later said that Banister’s termination “had a great emotional effect on Guy…. He started drinking pretty heavy at that time … and he started having family problems. He left his wife Mary Wortham, and moved out.” His former wife had him placed in a hospital for observation, where it was revealed he had a series of small strokes.18

  When Oster left, he was replaced by Vernon Gerdes. Gerdes also said he saw the American Nazi Rockwell with Banister.19 As noted by more than one author, Sergio Arcacha Smith’s office for the CRC was located in the Balter Building when Banister was there.20 Since Arcacha Smith’s group was part of the Cuban exile political front set up by the CIA for the Bay of Pigs invasion, Howard Hunt was also seen at the Balter Building. In fact, Joe Oster later said that when he was there with Banister at the Balter Building, there were phone calls coming in from the CIA, and he heard the name Hunt mentioned.21 Banister employee Joe Newborough also stated that Banister was a conduit of funds for the CIA.22

  In 1961, preparations for the Bay of Pigs were ongoing. As we have observed, Phillips and Hunt were major parts of that preparation. We have noted evidence for Hunt’s presence in New Orleans with Sergio Arcacha Smith, and probably with contacts to Banister. What about Phillips? Is there any evidence of his contacts in New Orleans at this time? In 1969, Gordon Novel—a man we will revisit later—sued Playboy magazine over comments Jim Garrison had made about him in his interview in the issue of October 1967. In a deposition Novel gave for that lawsuit, he mentioned a meeting he had with Arcacha Smith in 1961. Novel met Arcacha in a New Orleans hotel on the recommendation of Ed Butler, the director of the Information Council of the Americas, a rightwing, CIA-associated propaganda outfit. Arcacha Smith wanted Novel, an electronics wizard, to help him put on a New Orleans based telethon exposing alleged atrocities by Castro in Cuba. Novel seemed agreeable, so Arcacha invited him to a second meeting on the subject. This was at Banister’s office in the Balter Building. This time the two were joined by Banister and a Mr. Phillips from Washington.23 Novel had never seen Phillips before. But he was impressed by the ease with which Phillips commandeered the meeting. Phillips went through a written agenda from a typewritten sheet. The subject was to raise funds, but more importantly, to get the city of New Orleans behind the Cuban cause. Phillips said he was with Double-Check Corporation. T
his was later exposed as a CIA front to hire American pilots who flew at the Bay of Pigs. From his background as a CIA propaganda specialist, and the description Novel gave of him, authors Lisa Pease and William Davy have concluded that this was David Phillips.24

  In this deposition, Novel also described the efforts by Banister, Arcacha Smith, and David Ferrie to prepare for the Bay of Pigs assault. One of the things Ferrie did was to train Cubans at both Abita Springs, north of Lake Pon-chatrain, and the Belle Chasse Naval station, south of New Orleans. Ferrie told a CAP colleague of his that the equipment for the training there was coming in from both the State Department and the CIA through Sergio Arcacha Smith.25 In 1967, the CIA tried to make sure the training at the site would remain secret to Jim Garrison. Therefore, there was an inventory and history done on the training grounds. The CIA memorandum says the site was opened on February 12, 1961, with the first Cubans arriving about a week later. About 300 Cubans were trained there over a six-week time period. They were tutored in demolition, communications, and UDT (underwater demolition). And in fact, part of the Bay of Pigs invasion included underwater demolition teams landing on the first morning, each led by an American contract employee.26 Another group of Cubans Ferrie trained as a strike force was sent to Guatemala on March 22, 1961 to join the landing Brigade. The memo closes with this: “...the training camp was entirely Agency controlled and the training was conducted by Agency personnel.” The author, who seems to have quite a close understanding of what went on there, was David Phillips. The memorandum appears to be written for James Angleton.27

  Arcacha Smith wrote a letter to Ferrie’s superiors at Eastern Air Lines asking for paid leave for Ferrie so he could devote more time to the CRC.28 This was denied. But Ferrie’s vacation coincided with the Bay of Pigs invasion. And when it occurred, Ferrie was at Arcacha Smith’s home.29 Where they were likely getting reports about the progress of the landing. In fact, Arcacha Smith was so plugged into the CIA and the Bay of Pigs operation that he actually had films of the failed operation that he and Ferrie would watch at Arcacha’s home.30