The Strength of the Wolf

by Douglas Valentine

  Waters, Francis E. – The agent most responsible for the 1962 French Connection case, later a group leader; a target of Andy Tartaglino, he resigned in 1967 rather than take a transfer to Texas; tried and acquitted of selling to Charlie McDonnell a small portion of the heroin from the French Connection case that may have gone astray.

  White, George H. – Perhaps the FBN’s most flamboyant and controversial character, his claim to fame was making the 1937 Hip Sing T’ong case; joined the OSS in 1942 and worked with James Angleton in counter-intelligence; also worked on OSS Truth Drug operations; after the war served as district supervisor in Chicago, Detroit, and San Francisco; in 1951 he hoped to become New York’s district supervisor, but the job went to James C. Ryan, so he took a contract with the CIA and managed its MKULTRA safehouse in New York until 1954; became the FBN’s supervisor at large; in 1955 became district supervisor in San Francisco, where he ran three CIA safehouses until his retirement in 1965.

  Williams, Garland H. – Joined the customs service in 1929, worked for Anslinger in the Flying Squad on some of the Foreign Control Board’s most important cases; in 1936 negotiated an anti-smuggling agreement that allowed Treasury agents to operate inside Mexico, and formed the Southwest Border Patrol in El Paso; in 1937 became the FBN’s district supervisor in New York; left the FBN in 1941 to organize the Army’s Counterintelligence Corps; joined the OSS in 1942 in a senior position; returned to New York in 1945 as district supervisor; left the FBN in 1951 to organize and command the Army’s 525th Military Intelligence Group; in 1952 became assistant Commissioner of the IRS Intelligence Division, fired in late 1953 for some unknown reason, and vanished for two years; surfaced as a narcotic specialist for the State Department’s Office of Public Safety, where he remained until retiring in 1964.

  Wurms, Ivan – Narcotic detective in Washington, in 1953 assigned to the US Attorney investigating Garland Williams and problems at FBN headquarters; joined the FBN in 1956; worked with Frank Selvaggi on the Valachi investigation; later worked as inspector with Andy Tartaglino investigating agent wrongdoing in New York, 1967–68.

  Zirilli, Anthony – Perhaps the greatest FBN undercover agent ever, worked on top Mafiosi in New York and Europe; worked with Howard Chappell on an integrity investigation in the Chicago area in 1956; later targeted himself in New Orleans; said to Jim Attie, “They can’t pay me enough to do this job.” Then quit the FBN in disgust rather than apologize to Giordano.

  INTRODUCTION

  A writer’s research can take him to unexpected places, and I had little idea of my final destination when I began work on The Strength of the Wolf.

  Over ten years ago, I started researching a book about the CIA’s infiltration and subversion of the Drug Enforcement Administration (DEA). I had just finished writing a book about the CIA’s Phoenix Program in Vietnam, and I knew that with the gradual reduction of forces there, many CIA officers had been transferred to other government agencies, and that a few were filtered into the DEA and the DEA’s predecessor organization, the Bureau of Narcotics and Dangerous Drugs (BNDD), which existed from April 1968 until the DEA was created in July 1973. I was curious to know how these officers were put to use in the war on drugs and who was really giving them their orders.

  A retired colonel, Tully Acampora, was my entrée into the arcane underworld of spies, drug smugglers, and narcotic agents. Tully had worked closely with the CIA’s Phoenix Program in South Vietnam, and he told me that he had funneled some junior CIA officers into the BNDD and the DEA through his old friend Andrew Tartaglino. Before going to work for the CIA in Vietnam in 1966, Tully had served for seven years in Italy, and during that time he had come to know Andy Tartaglino, as well as Andy’s mentors in the Federal Bureau of Narcotics (FBN), Charlie Siragusa and Hank Manfredi.

  The FBN is the main subject of this book. It existed from 1930 until 1968, and it was the federal drug law enforcement agency that preceded the BNDD and DEA. Charlie Siragusa and Hank Manfredi established the FBN’s first overseas office in Rome in 1951, and Andy Tartaglino joined them there in 1956.

  Tully’s insights into the personalities and activities of Siragusa and Manfredi, and several other FBN agents, were invaluable contributions to this book, as was his introduction to Andy Tartaglino. A member of the FBN since 1952, Andy rose steadily through the ranks and reorganizations of federal drug law enforcement until July 1973, when he was named the DEA’s first chief inspector. Shortly after his appointment to this critical position, Andy initiated a controversial corruption investigation that culminated in 1975 with sensational hearings before a Senate committee. Among other things, there were allegations that a CIA assassination squad, staffed by former Phoenix personnel, existed inside the DEA’s Special Operations Unit. I wanted to know if those allegations were true.

  As a favor for Tully, Andy agreed to tell me about his corruption investigation, and the role the CIA played in it. We began by discussing a Justice Department report that enumerated the charges Andy had brought against several of the DEA’s senior officials, and about forty DEA agents, most of whom had started in the FBN.

  During our interviews, Andy made it clear that in order to understand the DEA’s integrity problems, I had to learn how they originated in the FBN. Having been a “shoofly” (Bureau jargon for an inspector who investigates agent wrongdoing) in the FBN, Andy knew almost everything about this subject, and it was through him that I first heard about the fascinating characters who appear in the pages that follow – the “case-making” agents he targeted, and the executive officers he contended with, back in the rough-and-tumble days of the FBN. And that’s when I seriously considered writing this book.

  Before I could begin work on it, however, I first had to find and interview the old FBN agents, and that was no easy task. But Tully came through once again and introduced me to Fred Dick, the first federal narcotic agent assigned to South Vietnam. Tully and Fred had met and become friends in Saigon, and Fred provided me with a book listing the names and addresses of the members of the Association of Former Federal Narcotics Agents. One thing led to another and, with very few exceptions, the agents I located were agreeable and eagerly discussed everything that contributed to the FBN’s successes and failures. It didn’t take long to realize that I had a chance to do something truly original: that these FBN agents were a new cast of characters on America’s historical stage, and that their collective recollections were a priceless contribution to American history.

  The Strength of the Wolf is the first non-fiction book to thoroughly document the history of the FBN, from its birth in 1930 to its wrenching termination in 1968. It is based largely on interviews with agents, but their recollections are set within the context of the full extent of literary sources on the subject of federal drug law enforcement. There were never more than 350 agents in the FBN at any time, and I’ve refined the book by focusing on the most outstanding agents and their cases.

  The moral to their story is simple: in the process of penetrating the Mafia and the French connection, the case-making agents uncovered the Establishment’s ties to organized crime; and that was their great undoing. That’s also where the CIA comes into the picture. This book shows that federal drug law enforcement is essentially a function of national security, as that term is applied in its broadest sense: that is, not just defending America from its foreign enemies, but preserving its traditional values of class, race, and gender at home, while expanding its economic and military influence abroad. This book documents the evolution of this unstated policy and analyzes its impact on drug law enforcement and American society.

  The Strength of the Wolf weaves together the FBN’s most significant cases with its political, bureaucratic, and national security-related problems, while progressing through two major integrity investigations. The first integrity investigation began in 1960 and arose from a power struggle among senior FBN executives vying to replace Harry J. Anslinger, the FBN’s prestigious Commissioner from 1930 until 1962. The second investig
ation, which Andy Tartaglino initiated in 1965, reflected a struggle at the highest levels of government for control over the direction of federal drug law enforcement.

  Apart from the integrity issue, there are two main themes in the book. The first is the FBN’s overseas expansion and subversion by the CIA. The second is its fatal clash with the FBI. Sadly, the CIA and FBI were often protecting the FBN’s targets in the Mafia and the French connection. Likewise, the CIA and its Nationalist Chinese allies operated the world’s largest drug-trafficking syndicate, but for political and national security reasons, the FBN was prevented from investigating this overarching conspiracy.

  The Strength of the Wolf integrates these and several lesser themes and culminates in 1968 when, in the wake of Andy Tartaglino’s second corruption investigation, the FBN was merged with another federal agency and renamed the Bureau of Narcotics and Dangerous Drugs.

  The tension that binds the book stems from three things: the tempting and often terrifying nature of undercover work; the provocative relationship agents have with their mercenary informants; and the subordination of FBN executives and case-making agents to spies, politicians, and influential drug traffickers. This is very heavy stuff, and the CIA did its best to prevent me from writing this book. It tried to prevent Andy Tartaglino from discussing the role it played in his integrity investigations, and told several other agents not to discuss with me its infiltration and subtle behind-the-scenes control of the FBN.

  Luckily, many federal narcotic agents aren’t intimidated or even impressed by the CIA. For example, in 1994 I was granted permission to interview Steve Green, the acting administrator of the DEA. Green’s public affairs officer met me in the lobby of the DEA building, brought me upstairs to the executive suite, sat me down on a sofa and got me a cup of coffee. There were a few things he wanted to ask me in the ten minutes we had before the interview. He wanted to know what my questions were going to be, and when I told him what they were, he thought they were fine. Next he asked me about the book I’d written about the CIA’s Phoenix Program. I answered his questions forthrightly, and he was pleased. Then he sat down on the sofa beside me and said, “I’m going to tell you something, and if you tell anyone, I’ll deny I ever said it. Understand?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  His eyes twinkled. “The CIA called yesterday. They knew you were coming and they asked us to cancel the interview. They said you’re trying to get at them, through us. Is that true?”

  “I’m writing a book about federal drug law enforcement,” I said. “But if I find out that the CIA was interfering in any way, you can be sure I’ll write about that too.”

  The public affairs officer stood up and smiled. “That’s exactly the answer I wanted to hear,” he said, and escorted me into Steve Green’s office.

  Several other people deserve a tip of the hat. I’d like to thank John Warner for introducing me to Paul Knight and for providing me with a copy of Project Pilot III, the DEA’s history of the French connection. Thanks also to Professors Alan Block and John C. McWilliams for unveiling the FBN’s history as a cover for government intelligence operations. Alan provided me with portions of FBN agent George White’s diaries, which record White’s role in the CIA’s MKULTRA “mind control” Program. And John gave the first few chapters of my book an early editing, which helped me on my way. I’d like to thank Tony “Grapes” Mangiaracina for giving me his copies of the National and International List books of major, mostly Mafia, drug smugglers; and George Gaffney for giving me his annotated copy of a 1964 Senate Report that had an incredible amount of valuable historical information about the FBN and its cases.

  Special thanks also to all the FBN agents who openly told me about their hassles with one another, as well as with the CIA and the FBI. I’d like to think that everyone owes them a debt of gratitude. Much of our history is hidden behind a wall of national security, and that sad fact prevents America from realizing its destiny. By contributing to this book, the FBN agents named in the following pages have given us back a portion of our rightful heritage – the substance of self-knowledge.

  1

  THE BIRTH OF A BUREAU

  “For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face.”

  1 Corinthians 13, Verse 11

  The best way to begin this book is with an account of the Treasury Department’s investigation of Arnold Rothstein’s worldwide drug-smuggling operation. There can be no better introduction to the kind of people, or the political, national security, and integrity issues that have always defined America’s war on drugs.

  The son of second generation Orthodox Jews, Arnold Rothstein was the archetypal criminal genius – a man so evil that he fixed the 1919 World Series and got away with it! Rothstein’s commandeering of the national pastime, and his ability to avoid prosecution for it, brought him national prominence: sportswriter Damon Runyon nicknamed this devious villain “the Brain,” and novelist F. Scott Fitzgerald found him such a fascinating character that he used him as a model for fashionable rumrunner-cum-social climber Jay Gatsby.1

  Writers Runyon and Fitzgerald understood their era and for them, Rothstein, with his jet-black hair and piercing dark eyes, personified the freewheeling spirit of the American antihero; the desperate man with nothing to lose, relying solely on his wits to beat the system. In this respect Rothstein was not unlike the robber barons of his times. But unlike Morgan, Mellon, and Rockefeller, his stock in trade was human vice. Throughout the 1920s, Rothstein was America’s premier labor racketeer, bookmaker, bootlegger, and drug trafficker. He knew that people would drink despite Prohibition, hire prostitutes despite marriage, and gamble despite bad luck. Having been an opium smoker in his youth, he also understood the euphoric hook of narcotic drugs. So, when the federal government outlawed opiated patent medicines in 1915 with the adoption of the Harrison Narcotic Act, he knew that people with no other cure for their ailments, as well as the thrill-seeking sporting and theater crowds, would find a substitute on the black market.

  Rothstein, however, always played the odds, and the profit margin in trading illicit narcotics wasn’t wide enough until 1921, when the Supreme Court ruled that it was illegal for doctors to prescribe narcotic drugs to addicts. It was at this point, when the legitimate outlets vanished, that Rothstein cornered the wholesale black market. Using a procedure he had developed for smuggling liquor, he sent buyers to Europe and organized front companies for importation and distribution. By the mid-1920s he was in sole control of the lucrative black market in heroin, morphine, opium, and cocaine, and had set up a sophisticated system of political payoffs, extortion, and collusion with the same gangsters who would eventually kill him and divvy up the spoils of his vast underworld empire.

  Yes, Rothstein was fatally flawed. Discretion was the cardinal rule of any criminal enterprise, yet in July 1926 he posted bond for two employees who had been arrested for smuggling a substantial quantity of narcotics from Germany. Rothstein likewise posted bail for drug runners arrested in 1927 and 1928. Alas, posting bond for his employees brought the attention of the press upon his business associates, and that indiscretion – plus the fact that his protégés felt it was unfair that one man should control all the rackets – cost him his life.

  In the end the evil genius, who preyed upon human weakness, was destroyed by the folly of pride. On the evening of 4 November 1928, Rothstein was shot in the groin while in his room at New York’s swank Park Central Hotel. It was a terrible wound, intended to inflict maximum pain, and Rothstein died several days later amid much controversy and mystery. To this day his murder remains officially unsolved. However, many of his secrets were revealed as a result of his bookkeeper’s penchant for keeping accurate records.

  THE POLITICAL IMPACT OF THE ROTHSTEIN INVESTIGATION

  Arnold Rothstein was a legend in his lifetime, worthy of the attention of literary giants – but the impact of his legacy transcended the lofty standards he set as the paragon of criminal etiquette. Indeed, the US T
reasury Department’s investigation into his drug trafficking and distribution empire triggered a series of developments that in turn fostered national security and law enforcement policies and practices that endure into the twenty-first century.

  At the law enforcement level, the Rothstein investigation revealed the staggering extent of illegal drug trafficking in the US. This revelation would lead to the reorganization of the Narcotics Division of the Internal Revenue Service’s incredibly corrupt Prohibition Unit (fondly referred to as “the Old PU”) and result in the creation of the Bureau of Narcotics in June 1930.

  These bureaucratic developments began when certain documents were found at a realty company Rothstein used as a front for his illegal enterprises. The documents confirmed that Rothstein was financing an international drug cartel based in Holland. They also revealed that the cartel had been supplying (primarily through trans-shipment points in Canada) millions of dollars’ worth of illicit drugs to American gangsters since 1925, when Rothstein’s emissaries first contacted a Chinese gang in Shanghai. Treasury Department narcotic agents, having confiscated the incriminating papers from reluctant police detectives, were certain that his murder was related to an ongoing struggle for control of the burgeoning underworld drug trade. They also felt that his papers would provide additional leads in several major narcotics investigations.

  The Treasury agents were right. Although the police would never solve the murder case, Rothstein’s financial records did enable Treasury agents – operating independently of the police – to seize several million dollars’ worth of narcotics in early December 1928 and to establish a link between Rothstein and the narcotics, which had been legally manufactured in Europe, then diverted onto the black market and smuggled from France.

  While the law enforcement developments of the Rothstein investigation were significant, they were eclipsed by the resulting political fallout. The biggest impact was felt in New York, where newspapers printed rumors that Rothstein had financial ties with the city’s most prominent public figures, including New York’s celebrated mayor, James John “Jimmy” Walker. More importantly, the New York Times reported that Rothstein had used a portion of his drug profits to finance communist-sponsored strikes in the city’s garment district. This was the first time in American history that politicians and policemen were linked with Bolsheviks and drug traffickers. In conjunction with charges that Democratic Party officials were on Rothstein’s payroll, the specter of sedition enabled Republican US Attorney Charles H. Tuttle to demand the immediate dismissal of all officials associated with Tammany Hall (the Democratic Party’s infamous headquarters in New York), including a number of judges.2