The duplicitous nature of politics demands doing a dance with the Devil … a dance that but a few would ever recognize, understand, or be privy to. Ready or not, on this very day if awake and aware, we were privy to a bizarre, duplicitous, political event unfolding in the Congress and choreographed as if out of a Hitchcock horror movie. It is a dance, however, that began decades ago.
One could go back as far as Cain and Able to illustrate but 
we choose to begin with J. Edgar Hoover’s era 1924-72 fast forwarding until today. Hoover danced with the Devil on any number of occasions and spoke of conspiracies with enough conviction and proof to secure his place in history, but for this posting we’ll report few of his shortcomings and do so conservatively. Unfortunately, in today’s World the Bard was right when he wrote, “The evil that men do lives after them; the good is oft interred with their bones.” – William Shakespeare
My service as an FBI Agent spans 1970-76. My father, a Union man, hated Hoover and the FBI and ranted about how FBI Agents were Union busters. When I became an agent, he disowned me. Mother, on the other hand, worshiped the Director. As a staunch Southern Baptist, she believed that lipstick, smoking, dancing, going to movies, drinking beer, and chasing women were akin to the original sins. Except for the lipstick, I was cousin to Cain for engaging in the foregoing with vigor. Even worse than my bad behavior was the event of my later conversion to the Mormon Church. That basically ended our relationship.
The only time mother ever traveled from Washington State to visit Sheri and the children in Utah was when I graduated from the University … an event she wouldn’t believe unless she saw it in person. The next and last time she visited with us was shortly after I had received a letter of commendation from Director Hoover for single-handedly catching a bank robber after a high speed car and foot chase through and into the ghettos of Los Angeles.
Upon hearing the news, Mother flew immediately from Oregon to California. She deplaned and the first words out of her mouth were, “Let me see the letter!” It was at home. All suffered an hour’s long ride to Newbury Park with mother sitting in silence. No more than moments out of the car, mother demanded to see the letter again. We retrieved it and she took it in one hand, read it and spit on the index finger of her other hand swiping a gob onto Hoover’s signature. Yes … the now runny ink was original, smeared in spit and that seemed to satisfy Mother. Flashing forward to the present, Hoover’s signature is barely visible today. Could it be the acid in the spit?
The point we make with both of these short, personal notes about my father and mother is that Hoover was despised and vilified and worshiped and revered by many. He had a choke hold, a 
Japanese Death Lock, a Leg-trap camel clutch, a Chickenwing over-the-shoulder crossface, a Mandible claw and any number of other holds and grips on the hearts, minds, and souls of my Mother’s generation and other generations to follow. Where, when, and how did the FBI begin to dance with the Devil?
It wasn’t a solo tap dance. It was more like one after the other of the Goodfellas joining the old “Do the Hucklebuck,” 1950s, group, line dance thing. These were the originals … all Goodfellas inhabiting an ever deepening Swamp.
More to follow ………………………..
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