GD: Well then, let’s let our young and unemployed live dangerously. They can go to school and then to the camps.
RTC: Does this blessed season of giving always motivate you to be so bloody negative?
GD: Oh yes, the mythic Jesus is about to be born in the cow barn and save us all. I love these preachers who get up in front of the TV cameras and squeal about the fictional Jesus. Why not the Celestial Easter Bunny?
(Concluded at 11:24 AM CST)
Conversation No. 119
Date: Saturday, December 20, 1997
Commenced: 10:29 AM CST
Concluded: 10:50 AM CST
GD: Good morning, Robert.
RTC: And to you. Getting ready for Christmas?
GD: Just another day, Robert. Christmas used to be something I looked forward to and enjoyed but like childhood, those days have long passed. Another day. My one son is not interested in giving but he loves to get. The true Christmas season. By the way, did you know what the Jewish Santa said to the children at the local mall?
RTC: A Jewish Santa?
GD: Anything for money, Robert, anything. He said, ‘Ho, ho, ho children. Want to buy some toys?’
RTC: (Laughter) Not tolerant. A pedophilic Santa would say, ‘Come and sit on Santa’s lap.’
GD: (Laughter) Kill them all, Robert and let God punish the bad ones by making them listen to Wayne Newton records for all eternity. I wonder when we will have a new war? These seem to come in cycles, don’t they? If the politicians had to put on oversized uniforms and get shot at, we would have eternal peace, wouldn’t we?
RTC: No doubt about that. The Vietnam war was a disaster.
GD: Oh yes, a real disaster. The public was getting worked up and we started on the first steps of revolution here. You know that.
RTC: Probably so. Johnson was lousy.
GD: So was McNamara and all the rest of them.
RTC: We were only there to appease the French.
GD: Yes, and your people killed Diem and made things worse. But I did my bit.
RTC: You were in then?
GD: You might say so, Robert. I did my bit. No I was not in military service but I did terrible damage to it.
RTC: How so?
GD: I ran a group that smuggled young Americans into Canada and security from the draft.
RTC: How many?
GD: Me personally? A little over three thousand.
RTC: My God, how ever did you do it?
GD: I organized some of the more competent ones into small cells and used the services of a commercial truck company to smuggle them into Canada, mostly Vancouver. And to make a bit of money for the cause, we smuggled immigrant Chinese workers back into the States from Canada to labor in the sweatshops of Chinatown in Frisco. Fifteen hundred a head coming back balanced nothing charged for going up.
RTC: Surely the Bureau must have gotten wind of all this movement.
GD: Of course they did. You see, I worked for a fancy hotel in Santa Monica and always dressed very well. One day, an FBI team hidden in the usual television repair truck, saw me chatting with a known trouble-maker down on the beach and the next day, two of them came into the hotel to visit me. Polite enough. Showed me a picture of this fellow with a ratty beard and I at once said I had met him in Venice. That’s how it got started. I looked respectable and even acted respectable so they asked me to spy for them. They were more than considerate and the money was good. They were looking for someone known as ‘The Doctor’ who was smuggling live bait out of the country. I could have made their day by telling them that I was the Doctor but why upset people unnecessarily? In essence, they were paying me to find myself. Because I am not schizophrenic, I never met myself but I was well-paid for my efforts. Actually this was a wonderful cover for my activities because now I could mingle with civil resistance people without fear of detection. They were so happy with my reports, Robert. Clandestine meetings in distant parking lots and envelopes stuffed full of money vanishing into my pocket. And I got rid of rivals and if I spotted a stool pigeon, I got them onto the official shit list. Actually, it was an interesting and rewarding time in my life.
RTC: It was in Vancouver where you did the funny money caper, wasn’t it?
GD: Of course it was. They evicted me when I went there after the Vietnam war was over and they threw me out of the country and stole my money. I only went to get it back.
RTC: Kimmel was telling me about this in horror. You cost them millions, didn’t you?
GD: Yes, but I got my money back, every cent of it.
RTC: How much?
GD: Four dollars and ten cents, Robert. Yes, I have two Canadian two dollar bills and a dime in a shadow box over my desk even as I am speaking to you. I told Tom about this and he had a fit.
RTC: I would imagine. He did not think that was amusing.
GD: No, but I did and after all, that’s what really matters, isn’t it?
RTC: In the end, I suppose so. I read a report on your activities once. Corson gave it to me. Actually we both thought it was highly entertaining. Are you really a doctor of something?
GD: No, I lie sometimes. But they lie all the time.
RTC: I won’t ask you who you are talking about.
GD: I could go on for hours.
RTC: Jesus, over three thousand? I heard about this doctor person once as I recall but I have forgotten most of it. Well, now I can say I know a famous outlaw.
GD: I’ll accept that, Robert, in the Christmas spirit of kind giving. Oh and taking as well. You can’t do one without the other. After all, our loss was Canada’s gain. When Carter pardoned all of the escapees, most of them stayed in Canada. Doesn’t speak well of the atmosphere here, does it?
RTC: I suppose not. Having a tree this year?
GD: No, I am not. And I am not buying any toys from the Jewish Santa either. I don’t fancy reindeer shit on my roof.
(Concluded at 10:50 AM CST)
Conversation No. 120
Date: Wednesday, December 24, 1997
Commenced: 11:05 AM CST
Concluded: 11:20 AM CST
EC: Hello?
GD: Mrs. Crowley, this is Gregory. Is Robert available?
EC: Yes, dear, he’s in the bathroom and he’ll be here in just a minute or so. Gregory, I do hate to burden you with family matters but I am getting worried sick about Robert.
GD: Is he sick?
EC: Yes, dear, I’m afraid he is. He keeps getting…Robert keeps forgetting things. He has a hard time remembering things and I think it must have something to do with his lungs. He had pneumonia and we suspect he might have cancer or something.
GD: Well, cancer has nothing to do with remembering things. I forget things all the time and I am getting a little old. Well, not to worry my dear.
EC: No, I am worried. Why this morning, when he woke up, I asked him about breakfast and he asked me who I was. That really scared me.
GD: I would imagine it would but sometimes, if I sleep deeply enough, I don’t know what day it is.
EC: You’re a dear to try and make me feel better but maybe you could talk with him a little and let me know what you think. Robert does like you, you know. Would you try to do this for me? I would really appreciate it if you would.
GD: Of course I will but I wouldn’t worry too much.
EC: Well…Oh! Why Robert, here’s Gregory for you. No Not our Greg, your friend. Yes.
RTC: Hello? Who’s this now?
GD: Gregory Douglas
RTC: Oh yes, yes, yes. I know, I know. It’s quite all right, Emily. Yes. Gregory. You and my son have the same names, you know. Well, what can we do for you? I’m not going to the job today, you know so I would love to talk with you. How are things with you?
GD: Just fine, Robert, and with you?
RTC: Well, you know how it is. Today is Sunday, right? Church day.
GD: No, actually, it’s Wednesday, Robert.
RTC: Ah well, I must have overslept. Do you ever oversleep, Gregory? We all d
o. I thought it was Sunday but then the church bells weren’t ringing. How are you doing?
GD: Oh very well, Robert. And you?
RTC: I think I’m getting old. I know I am. It’s so difficult to remember just the small things. Why I can remember my childhood in Chicago as if it were yesterday but yesterday sometimes is a problem.
GD: Well, it worries Emily.
RTC: What does?
GD: You not remembering.
RTC: What’s that all about?
GD: Emily, your wife, is worried about you.
RTC: Yes, she does. How are you coming along then?
GD: Oh, just fine. Have you heard from Bill?
RTC: Yes. What? Bill who?
GD: Corson.
RTC: Ah yes, I know a Bill Corson. We co-authored a book, you know.
GD: Oh yes. What was the title again?
RTC: What?
GD: The title.
RTC: Well, let me think about that. How are you today?
GD: Very good for Wednesday morning.
RTC: Now there you go. I thought today was Sunday. Well, you are writing a new book?
GD: Yes, I am. Tell me, have you heard from Corson?
RTC: Yes. I mean who? Corson? Oh yes, we wrote a book together. I think his wife is sick but that might be Jim’s.
GD: Angleton?
RTC: Why yes. He was telling me Cecily was doing poorly.
GD: Bob, Jim has been dead for some years now.
RTC: No, no, I don’t believe you there. Why, I talked with him last night. He’s perfectly fine. Don’t worry about that, my boy. And how are you today?
GD: Robert, I am fine, just fine. I was working on the Kennedy business.
RTC: I think so too. It was terrible but it had to happen. You know that. Jim said the same thing to me.
GD: Yesterday?
RTC: Yes, he called me and we talked about it. So good to hear from him. Jim is a great guy, Bill, and we owe him a great debt.
GD: This is Gregory.
RTC: Ah, of course it is. Are you coming over today after church?
GD: Robert, is Emily around there?
RTC: I think so, Emily. Emily the other Gregory wants to talk to you. We must get together again pretty soon. Here she is…
EC: Yes, dear?
GD: Mrs. Crowley, you’re right about Bob. He is very confused. Would you be offended if I made a personal suggestion?
EC: Why no, dear.
GD: I would get together with your son and get Bob to a doctor as soon as you can. I mean not today but as soon as you can. Can you do that?
EC: Why we can. Greg and I were talking about this yesterday. What do you think? He is a little mixed up.
GD: Yes, dear, he is more than that. And don’t let him go outside right now.
EC: Oh my, what do you think? Is this about cancer? You know, Bob smokes like a chimney and if I told him once, I told him a dozen times, to please stop smoking.
GD: No, dear, I do not think it is the smoking. Bob is getting….Bob is having some little memory problems so you would be doing all of you a favor by taking him to the doctor. Just, you know, to have a little checkup. Be sure to tell him about these little memory problems. Maybe he can prescribe something for this but do go to the doctor right away. I mean he might fall down the steps or something. You can do this?
EC: Oh I can. Thank you, Gregory. Have you talked with Bob about this?
GD: Oh, yes and you and your son can both take him down for a general exam. Always best to have two people he loves and trusts when he goes in.
EC: Thank you…yes? Oh of course, Robert. Gregory, Robert wants to talk to you. And thank you again.
RTC: Well, and how are you today, Gregory? I thought you might be Bill a few minutes ago but I was mistaken. I have to remember so much I get a little confused. You know how it is. And how are you today?
GD: Robert, do you know what day is coming up tomorrow? On Thursday?
RTC: (Pause) What day?
GD: Tomorrow, Robert. Tomorrow is Christmas, Robert. Now you go along with Emily and be a good fellow. I think I will miss talking with you. Are you going to have a really nice Christmas, Robert? Family coming?
RTC: Well, they come over here regularly. Aren’t you planning to call me again? You’re not angry for some reason, are you?
GD: No, Robert, I am not angry and I do enjoy talking with you.
RTC: No one else ever calls me, Gregory. Are you coming back to visit?
GD: I hope to. Now just you humor Emily and go to the doctor. Just to humor her, Robert. How long have you been married?
RTC: Oh since 1948. That’s…that’s, why, I guess about….
GD: Almost fifty years, Robert. Now I ought to go now and then you and your family can have a very Merry Christmas. You’ll do that, won’t you? With the family.
RTC: There is something I wanted to say to you, Gregory, but I’ll try to remember it.
GD: Eugene O’Neill wrote a play once, Robert. It’s called “A long day’s journey into night” Good title, don’t you think?
RTC: An Irishman. O’Neill.
GD: Yes, a fellow countryman. Robert, let me go now and you have a really wonderful Christmas. And Robert, God bless you and keep you. OK?
RTC: Do you have a cold, Gregory? It’s been so nasty out, everyone has colds.
GD: Yes, I have a cold, Robert. Remember, Merry Christmas and God Bless.
(Conclusion 11:20 AM CST)
Crowley and Me
I first encountered Robert Crowley when he sent British historian John Costello to California to try to discover if I had any documents from, or about, former SS General Heinrich Mueller, once head of the German Gestapo. I had previously written three biographical studies of Heinrich Mueller and they wanted to know what I knew because the books I had authored were causing serious unhappiness in CIA headquarters. The CIA had hired him after the war and the disclosure of this was creating serious public relations problems for the company. Costello was boring, but Crowley proved to be an interesting, and congenial person and we commenced a long-distance phone relationship that lasted nearly four years.
In his heyday, Bob Crowley was a very tall, broad-shouldered Chicago Irishman who had gone to West Point where he was on the football team and was a member of the skeet club. He quit West Point to fight in the Pacific theater during World War Two and afterwards joined the CIA, almost at its inception. He was friendly, very humorous and highly informative. He was also very sad because he had been abandoned by those he once considered his friends. No one ever bothered to call or visit him, unless, of course, they wanted to use him or pick his memory for various pieces of information.
As time went by, Crowley, who had retired from the CIA some years before, became more and more informative - pouring out all manner of highly entertaining, if horrifying, stories about various secret CIA projects he and his co-workers had been involved with. There were murders, revolutions, counterfeitings, Presidential assassinations, character assassinations in a controlled press and far more. There proved to be so much pouring out of the ageing top level CIA controller that it became necessary to tape the conversations, not to gather proof against Crowley, but to get names, dates and facts correct for future transcriptions.
During our conversations, Robert was slowly descending into the darkness of Alzheimer’s Disease, and had a hard time remembering names but not incidents. I had no idea he was slowly unraveling. I only knew him over the telephone; I had never known him in his prime. He was very friendly and obviously eager to talk shop with me because no one else would. And talk shop he did. That he was proud of these actions there was no doubt, but his primary concern was that his family and others learn the rationale for what might otherwise appear to be sadistic slaughters. Like many others, Crowley, who was a decent man in all other respects, believed that his actions were for the welfare of the nation and merited, in the final analysis, praise, not condemnation.
After he died, intelligence author Joseph T
rento went to Crowley’s town house and convinced Crowley’s widow, Emily, to give him all of the files. When he got them home to Front Royal, Virginia, Trento discovered very large and significant gaps in the files they knew Crowley had. Further digging on Trento’s part disclosed Crowley’s friendship with me.
Learning that Crowley had gutted his files and sent them to me led Trento to call me early on a Sunday morning shrieking into the phone like a fat woman suddenly seated on a very hot wood stove. I was ordered to return all of the files to him at once, un-copied, or face immediate arrest. The CIA hadn’t started waterboarding or otherwise torturing people at that point but long-term incarceration was strongly predicted. My response was of the sort one cannot publish, given the possibility that unsullied children might chance to read it and I heard nothing more from Mr. Trento. I did, however, get endless phone calls from strange creatures, desiring to become my friend and passionately wishing to assist me in what they thought might be an exposition of the Crowley papers.
Robert Crowley was, as I have said, an intelligent and basically decent man and the tragedy of his life is that he had completely convinced himself that his actions were noble and unselfish. But there was always that nagging doubt in his Catholic background and a desire to justify himself in the eyes of the world. Whether he has accomplished by the revelations of his memories is a matter for others to judge but as for myself, flawed or not, Bob Crowley was a remarkable and, very often, a sympathetic man.
He was my friend, and I miss him.
Gregory Douglas - September, 2013
Appendix 1
The Defense Intelligence Agency Report of April 20, 1978
Note: The following report comes from the files of the late Robert T. Crowley, formerly Deputy Director of Clandestine Operations of the Central Intelligence Agency.
Defense Intelligence Agency
Washington, DC 20301
20 APRIL 1978
SUBJECT: Soviet Intelligence Report on Assassination of President KENNEDY
Conversations With the Crow Page 62