At 81 years old, why am I doing this? Well … “God is great, beer is good, and people are crazy!”
It’s easy and it’s difficult to answer the question, “Why am I doing this?” I’ve been over the river and through the woods so to speak. I know from personal experience where many of the political bodies are buried (a figure of speech). I cherish the thought of helping to ensure more and not less “Justice 4 All.” And I’ve an indomitable spirit and determination to overrun any obstacle that stands in the way of accomplishing the last items on my bucket list. When one is 81-years-old, there is ample opportunity to have experienced many exciting and horrible and wonderful and terrible and memorable adventures.
I’m Wayne L. Wickizer (See Resume) with a Master of Science degree in Administration of Justice (MSAJ). I’m a retired Major, U.S. Army Special Forces, Intelligence officer. I have 5,000 flying hours in the U.S. Air Force. In 1956 I was selected to fly a top secret mission to North Africa and the Gaza Strip. I’ve crashed in Alaska and flown missions over the North pole.
I’ve chased typhoons in the Pacific in WB-50 bombers and sampled Soviet nuclear fall out at upper altitudes.
As a Former FBI Agent from 1970-76, I worked Bank Robbery, Kidnapping, Hijacking, Fugitive, and Organized Crime Cases. I’ve been shot at by the Symbionese Liberation Army and stoned by the Ku Klux Klan. I’m a graduate of the FBI’s Command School of Advanced Criminology. I introduced the FBI to Visual Analytics in the 1970’s and have three letters of commendation from FBI Directors.
I have been fired by an Attorney General for insubordination and had shyster lawyers threaten to break my knees on the Court House steps. My friend since 1974 is a Mafiosi who I jailed way back then. He calls and writes to me regularly and is still in the “Joint” under an assumed identity and concealed location. He’s there in a quasi witness protection situation because to expose him would likely lead to his execution by the Mob. I and one of my investigations am named in Dave Wagner’s book “The Politics of Murder” an expose of “Organized Crime in Barry Goldwater’s Arizona.”
I’ve the most wonderful, powerful, passionate, compassionate, complex, creative, spiritual, volatile, vociferous and unusual collection of friends, associates and family that anyone could ever wish, or pray for, or desire. Time and space deny listing them, so we’ll save that for another posting.
I’m also a retired Utah educator and enjoyed teaching secondary English to 7th graders. As a member of the Society of Professional Journalists (SPJ), I am a Freelance Commentator and Political “Lurker.” I’m a father to 4+4 having lost a first wife to Melanoma and married again to integrate the other 4. I’m a grandfather to 28 and claim not to remember their names until they are old enough to backpack and fly fish.
As a result of the crashes, bumps, grinds, sweat, and sinew involved in having survived as a “poor” white kid and “almost” migrant youth working the fields and in the forests of the North West, I have survived and thrived. As a result of what it takes to become a Military Master Parachutist, and what it takes to become a Japan Trained 7th degree Karate Black Belt, I have survived and thrived. And as a result of all of the above and what it takes to wear out more running shoes than an Olympic track team doing three-a-days, my body has accumulated more stents, bypasses, scars, marks, and missing or rebuilt metal parts than my old 1937 Ford, flat head, V-8.
Finally, I’m the only Agent in the history of the FBI to have received a letter of commendation from Director J. Edgar Hoover and also a letter of commendation from Jack Anderson of “The Washington Merry-go-Round.” For my generation of Agents, the significance of the foregoing connection to Jack Anderson and the FBI is huge. The Director and Anderson loathed each other. And … during those days … I would have been considered a pariah.
There is enough in the foregoing and between the lines to fill a library. Yet whatever I’ve reported above falls sadly far short of my passion for achieving something of more lasting and eternal value. Number “1” still on my bucket list is to leave a better World than the one I inherited from the Greatest Generation. Unfortunately, I have failed as so many before me failed and so many others are failing now. The following lament mirrors my feelings. Hopefully you’ll understand the frustration.
This U.S.Marine Commandant’s report is a short epilogue to a long and illustrious career that typifies so many similarly sad and conflicted endings. General Smedley Butler, the most decorated Marine in US history at the time, writes,
“I spent thirty-three years in the Marines, most of my time being a high class muscle man for Big Business, for Wall Street and the bankers. In short, I was a racketeer for capitalism. I helped purify Nicaragua for the international banking house of Brown Brothers in 1910-1912. I helped make Mexico and especially Tampico safe for American oil interests in 1914. I brought light to the Dominican Republic for American sugar interests in 1916. I helped make Haiti and Cuba a decent place for the National City [Bank] boys to collect revenue in. I helped in the rape of half a dozen Central American republics for the benefit of Wall Street. In China in 1927 l helped to see to it that Standard Oil went its way unmolested. I had a swell racket. l was rewarded with honors, medals, promotions. l might have given Al Capone a few hints. The best he could do was to operate a racket in three city districts. The Marines operated on three continents.” s/General Smedley Butler, former US Marine Corps Commandant, 1935
Some things never change and yet I’m still “all in” with many of my friends and old timers who continue to refuse to go down for the count all-the-while snorting, gasping, croaking, and wheezing out their worn sermons and plaintive pleas for “Liberty, Equality, Fraternity, and Justice for All!”
“I think that, as life is action and passion, it is required of a man that he should share the passion and action of his time at peril of being judged not to have lived.” Oliver Wendell Holmes.
To restrain those passions and be constrained by party, politics, family, friendships, religion, and convention and to merely and mindlessly fit into a mold of others’ shaping is certainly not living and far worse than dying.
Proud to be an American, I am likewise damned for it. I’m damned if I’ll be a Democrat or damned if I’ll be a Republican or “…ism” or, or, or … of any mindless, sophomoric, platitudinous, far left or far right defender of party, defender of political, or defender of pious religious preference and hypocrisy. Any exposure to those folks sets me to wheezing and snorting. So here’s a hearty “Bah Humbug” for capitalism, social or economic totalitarianism, and the sum of all other “isms” that immediately set my teeth to grinding and biting my tongue and cheeks.
Baby killing Liberalism that renders asunder and rips from the womb premature parts for commerce sets me to frothing at the mouth and swearing like a sailor. And … I’m old enough to have learned a few of those cuss words from the best. Mark Twain (Sam Clemens), whose dissertation on such can be found here. Mark Twain and the Art of Swearing
“Most people should not swear. This is not a moral judgment but an artistic one. The fact is, most people don’t know how to swear any more than they know how to play the bassoon. Both require years of practice and expert instruction. Yet virtually all the swearing one hears in the course of a day sounds trite, discordant, and uninspired. The lack of melody and imagination offends the ear more than the words offend the sense of decency. Profanity should therefore be left to the skilled and well-trained professional.” Continuing on, “There ought to be a room in this house to swear in,” he told a friend. “It’s dangerous to have to repress an emotion like that.” He observed that, “Under certain trying circumstances swearing provides relief denied even to prayer.” And continued, “If I cannot swear in heaven, I shall not stay there.”
Therefore, Communism, Ku Klux Klanish, white or black supremacy types, and farthest left Liberalism and right mindlessness head this writer’s long list of the deplorable isms and may plumb from my murky untamed depths blasts of colorful verbiage and metaphor.
North Korean agents have attempted to compromise me. I chased a radical white supremacist through a hedgerow one night and upon exiting, he bit the FBI agent waiting for him in the crotch. A Chinese gun boat shot at me. And the nasty Soviets with their incessant, Moscow Molly radio propaganda broadcasts have interfered endlessly by jamming my Morse Code and other communications. However, the foregoing examples are mild by comparison with what is happening on our streets and in our jails and prisons where many of the Americans who are there shouldn’t be there. Per capita, America is the most imprisoned nation in the World.
On Jan. 17, 1961, President Dwight Eisenhower gave the nation a dire warning about what he described as a threat to democratic government. He called it the military-industrial complex, a formidable union of defense contractors and the armed forces.
I’ve not even mentioned a savage tragedy that weighs so heavily on my heart as to fix on me a dark spell that words fail in its description. I’ll try. We have sent, in undeclared wars for profit, our best, our finest, our bravest youth and heroes off to die for the likes of the corrupt tyrants and Goodfellas who purport to lead us all the while they deceive us and subvert the “Rule of Law.” I’ll talk about individual offenders in later posts but to name a few corporations who as President Eisenhower warned profit most from warring, here we go: Halliburton, United Technologies, L-3 Communications, Finmeccanica, EADS, Northrop Grumman, Raytheon, General Dynamics, BAE Systems, Boeing, Lockheed Martin.
Playing the “age” card again, we’ll remind the reader that I’ve lived several robust lives during several unusually active life times.
So finally without explanation, justification, or excuse, and in stark contrast to my current code of conduct, I end this posting and offer a sweet conclusion expressed in song and show by Billy Currington with whom I wholeheartedly concur that “People Are Crazy”
From You Tube, “Country music singer and songwriter Billy Currington has created an
entertaining music video for his song People Are Crazy. I love the lyrics to the song and the story they tell. Most people are too busy to take the time to talk with a stranger but for those that do they might discover it was worth their time. I wouldn’t be surprised if they make a movie out of this story or perhaps they already have.”
Oh how I remember and enjoy being among good people who just want to be simple and simply want to be left alone … want to be a “touch bit” or “tich” crazy in a warm and homely and American Country way.
“God is great, beer is good, and people are crazy!”
Wayne L. Wickizer – MSAJ
Major, U.S. Army Special Forces Ret.
Former FBI Agent 1970-76
Member Society of Professional Journalists (SPJ)
Freelance Commentator and Political “Lurker”