Family of Spies: Inside the John Walker Spy Ring (17 page)

Chapter 26

San Diego International Airport, also known as Lindbergh Fidd, lies slightly northeast of the Naval Training Center where John and Jerry had originally met. Since both men were pilots, they knew the airfield well, particularly a colorful restaurant called Boom Trenchard’s Flare Path Cafe near the main runway.

Jerry had just returned from his two-month voyage with Roger when John telephoned from Oakland and said he wanted to fly down and take him to lunch. Jerry was eager to tell John about his sailing adventure and his new job – spotting swordfish for sports fishermen from a low-flying Piper Cub airplane.

They sat upstairs at Boom Trenchard’s in a corner table out of earshot of the bar. John let Jerry chatter on, listening patiently to his account of the Baja cruise, theories about national politics, and talk about his latest interest – Israel.

After lunch and a few gin and tonics, John’s voice dropped to a whisper and he got to the point.

“Jerry, I want to talk to you about something that is highly confidential and sensitive and extremely delicate,” John said. “It involves crime, so if you don’t want to discuss it, tell me right now and we will drink these drinks and leave here friends and I will never bring it up again.”

Jerry told John to continue.

“Okay, the next thing that you got to understand is that if we even talk about this, if I tell you what I am doing, you will be violating the law because you will be part of a conspiracy, and you could be put in prison even though you haven’t done anything at all. This is how important this is. We are talking about something here that is extremely dangerous!” John explained. “So do you want to hear more or should we finish our drinks and discontinue this conversation?”

By now Jerry was totally absorbed and pushed John to hurry up and tell him.

“Okay, Jerry, but if I tell you anything further, you’ve got to promise me that you are not going to go to the authorities and turn me in. You have got to give me your word as a gentleman and as my best friend that it will never go any further than here, this table, even if you decide that you don’t want to get involved,” John said. “This is very, very important because I have never told anyone else what I am doing,” John added, lying. “No one but you, and you are the only person that I trust.”

“Okay,” Jerry replied. “What is it?”

“You promise not to turn me in?” asked John.

“Yeah.”

“You sure?”

“Sure. I promise forgodsakes!”

“Okay,” said John. “I trust you. I want you to know that you are the only person I’ve told this to, and the only reason that I am telling you now is because what I am doing is very safe and very, very profitable, and I want you to get involved. I want a partner and you are the only person that I would ever trust. I’m really putting my balls in your hands with this.”

John sounded so sincere that day. But years later he recalled how he had continued to “bait the hook” that afternoon.

“Bringing Jerry into the ring was a very difficult thing to do and extremely dangerous because all Jerry had to do was say, ‘Yes to me and then pick up the telephone and turn me in. If Jerry had really played his cards right, he could have become a national hero. The Navy would have given him meritorious promotions, allowed him his choice of duty stations, and given him anything he would have asked for if he had turned me in. I knew this. It wasn’t a little thing, it was a big thing. Jerry had a lot to gain by turning me in. So I had to make certain that the money I discussed with him had to outweigh the money that he could get by turning me in. I had thought about how to do this for a long time, and I wanted to touch all of the right spots, so I took my time and I dragged my pitch out.

“There were at least twenty different times when he could have said, ‘Okay, John, I’ve heard enough. Let’s drop the subject,’ but he didn’t. Particularly after I mentioned the big drawing card. I told him that he could make from one thousand to four thousand dollars per month if he helped me. I kept emphasizing that it was safe. ‘There is no chance at all that you will be caught,’ I said, and then the icing on the cake was that I tailored my pitch to fit what I knew Jerry wanted to hear. He had told me enough about his cruise with Roger that I knew he wanted to do something with his life. I made it sound as if I was doing something that was really important. Admirable, in fact.”

After several minutes of evasive talk, John finally described what he was doing – sort of.

“Okay, Jerry, you promised not to rat on me, so I’m going to tell you what I do. I’m going to trust you. I gather intelligence in the international arena. I buy it and sell it.”

“You mean you sell classified information?” Jerry asked.

“Exactly. I’ve been doing it for years!”

“Holy shit!” Jerry replied.

“Who’s the buyer?”

“I had anticipated this question,” John said later, “and I knew that my answer was critical. This could turn him on me. So I said, ‘Jerry, I can’t tell you that, but I will say that you should understand there is a large population of people who buy this type of information. It is not necessarily the bad guys. It could be publications like Jane’s Fighting Ships [a private publication that specializes in providing information about U.S. and foreign military equipment] or it could be an ally, for example, Israel.’”

“Israel had been having a tough time and Jerry had told me all this bullshit about Israel and the Jews, so I purposely led him in that direction. ‘There are lots of reasons why an ally, like Israel, would want to buy classified material, Jerry. You know that. You know what NOFORN [no foreign distribution] means,’ I said.”

“I suggested Israel to soften the blow and I kept hammering on the point that Israel was our best friend, almost our fifty-first state, for godsakes, It had always been my intention to claim I was passing information to Israel if I was ever captured. I figured that all the Jews in this country would see me as some sort of misguided patriot and they’d get me out of trouble since they own all the newspapers and television networks.

“But the point about Israel was really irrelevant. He was part of the conspiracy now. We were talking about theft and transportation to a foreign government. He knew that classified information wasn’t supposed to go to anyone, allies included.

“But Jerry agreed on the spot to do it, to become my partner, just as I figured he would. The next step was talking about his future. How to get him back in the service and where he should go to get the best documents.”

Every few minutes, Jerry interrupted their conversation by simply leaning back and shaking his head, John recalled later. “He just couldn’t believe that I had been a spy for years without him figuring it out. He kept asking me questions.”

“Does Barbara know what you are doing?” Jerry asked.

“I got to be truthful with you,” John said. Then he lied. “Yeah, I have to admit that she knows I am into something illegal, but she doesn’t know what it is.”

“Does anyone else know what you do?”

“No,” said John. “No one. You are the only one who knows that.”

“Can Barbara be trusted?”

“C’mon Jerry,” John replied. “You know what a fucking dunce Barbara is. But she won’t blow the whistle as long as I keep her in booze and money. Besides, she doesn’t know enough to really do anything, and who’s going to believe a drunk?”

“Were you doing this at school when we met?” Jerry asked.

“Yes,” John replied. “Sure was.”

“Damn!” said Jerry. “While we were at radio school, you were spying for the Israelis?”

“Yes,” John said again.

“Damn, how long before that?”

“I’m not going to tell you,” John replied. “Look, Jerry, in this type of operation it is better if you don’t know too much. All you really need to know is that it is completely safe, there are really no major risks, what I do really doesn’t hurt anyone – it’s just information sharing – and you can earn a lot of money by doing it. One hell of a lot of money. More money than you could ever make flying over the goddamn ocean trying to find a bunch of fucking swordfish for some fat-ass fisherman.”

“Why,” asked Jerry, “did you pick me? How did you know that I would say ‘Yes’ ”

“You’re my best friend Jerry. I trust you,” John replied. “I also talked to you long enough to know that you would do it with me. You probably didn’t even realize it, but I have been making queries over a long time.”

Jerry looked surprised, so John mentioned their conversation aboard
The Dirty Old Man
about the movie
Easy Rider
. Jerry didn’t even remember it.

“Jerry, we are the very best at what we do,” said John. “We are intelligent, and what I am doing is not hurting one person or any government. Believe me, this is safe and easy money – really easy money, just there for the taking, and we are helping our friends the Jews.”

All profits would be split fifty-fifty, John explained. Jerry would steal the documents, John would be the courier. He would meet Jerry “anywhere on the planet earth” to pick up material and would deliver his share.

“Cryptographic material is the best. You can get up to four thousand dollars per month for it, but you’ll get at least a grand for routine message traffic,” John explained. “Of course, some crypto is worth more. The KY-8 system [an older, voice broadcast system] isn’t going to get that much ‘cause it’s been out there a long time and, believe me, we aren’t the only sellers in the market. But the KW-7, now, that’s a gold mine, baby! If you can get me good KW-7 crypto, you’ll be getting four thousand a month no sweat, as long as you live.”

Jerry suddenly interrupted John’s explanation. When John had first begun his recruitment pitch, he had talked about message traffic. Now he was talking about something more serious – cryptographic material.

John felt a sudden panic. “I thought, ‘Oh shit, it’s finally dawned on this dummy who the buyers really are and he’s getting scared.’”

Jerry looked at John for several seconds and then said, “Under no circumstances can you tell anyone that I am involved, and that includes your buyers. I must remain anonymous.”

“Of course,” John replied quickly. “You will be a silent partner. No one will ever know. I swear it. I absolutely swear it. It will be our secret.”

Like a salesman who had just dosed a lucrative deal, John thought about his meeting with Jerry on the flight home to Oakland from San Diego. He marveled at Jerry’s eagerness to join him.

“I felt very comfortable. I knew Jerry would not turn me in. He was simply too excited about the money and being part of a spy ring. I really thought he was going to change his name to James Bond!”

Jerry Whitworth refused to testify years later at his trial on espionage charges. But he admitted to being a spy after his conviction, when interviewed by Dayle C. Carlson, Jr., a correctional consultant, who prepared the presentence report about him:

“During interviews, Whitworth admitted that he had passed classified information to John Walker ... Whitworth stated that it was a period of his life during which he was somewhat disillusioned with circumstances in the world, including the Watergate experience, the takeover of South Vietnam and Cambodia by the Communists and other unsettling political events. He was particularly interested in the survival of Israel and felt that its struggle was worth supporting. He stated that he was also attracted to the mystique and what he described as “heroics” of being involved with passing classified information to Israel. He agreed to assist Walker. Although there was an agreement for Whitworth to receive approximately $1,000 a month in the beginning, Whitworth stated that he was not particularly interested in the money at first.”

Jerry Whitworth had been taught as a child the difference between right and wrong. But he also had learned something else growing up in the Cookson Hills of southeastern Oklahoma, something that was honed by Ayn Rand’s call for each individual to become more than merely a cog in some vast bureaucratic machine.

Perhaps John Steinbeck described this independent attitude best in his classic novel,
The Grapes of Wrath
, a book that Jerry admired.

At one point in the book, Pa Joad tells his family that “sometimes a fella got to sift the law” if he wants to survive. A man has to take a few risks now and then if he wants to amount to something.

After he was convicted, Jerry Whitworth told his Uncle Willard during an emotional prison visit, “Don’t believe all the things they are saying about me. I thought what I was doing was heroic when I did it. My conscience is clear, completely clear.”

Chapter 27

Back in Oakland, John received bad news. He was being transferred from the
Niagara Falls
to a staff job at the naval base in Norfolk.

He didn’t want to go.

Neither did Barbara. When he broke the news to her, Barbara jolted John with some news of her own. She wanted a divorce.

Barbara had done just fine while John was at sea. The owners of Tilly’s Restaurant were so pleased with her work as assistant manager that they had offered to put her in charge of the entire eatery. The extra pay plus child support from John would be enough, Barbara thought, for the family to survive without him.

Barbara had told the children about her decision before John got home from the Philippines. “One night, when she was sitting at the bar at the house in Union City, my mother told all of us that she was going to divorce Dad when he got back,” recalled Michael Walker. “I was really upset. I didn’t want them to get a divorce. I didn’t want to lose my father.”

Laura Walker’s reaction was just the opposite.

“I felt great,” she recalled. “We would have been set ... I was thrilled that she was going to finally get rid of him.”

Barbara’s sudden backbone surprised John. He asked her to step into the master bedroom to discuss her decision. The children waited outside. “None of us really knew what my dad would do or how he would react,” recalled Laura. “Everyone was afraid. When they came out, all four of us kids were in the family room waiting. My mother came up to us and she said, ‘We are all going to Norfolk. We are going with your father!’ ”

“I just couldn’t believe it, that she would do this to us,” said Laura. “I said to myself, ‘Hey, this is it. I’m getting out.’ ”

Barbara told me later that John had fallen on his knees in the bedroom and begged her not to leave him. He had talked about his grandfather and the great times the Scaramuzzos had as a large Italian family. He reminded her of their early years together, how much in love they had been. Barbara knew that there wasn’t much of a chance that their marriage could be repaired. Too much had happened.

But she was willing to try once again.

She still loved John and, if he would only make an effort, maybe they could get along. It was a thin hope, but she grasped at it anyway. The truth was that despite her intentions, Barbara couldn’t imagine life without John and, in his own strange way, he couldn’t imagine life without her.

“I really hadn’t been thinking straight when I talked Barbara out of her decision,” John told me later. “I’d been away from home for two long tours and my experiences in the Philippines had really stuck with me. I had begun to romanticize having a family like my grandpa. You know, a good old Italian family with everyone fat and happy. I just wasn’t in touch with reality, but it hit fast.”

Laura ran away from home that night. She was fourteen, and when she came home on her own the next day, John directed her into the master bedroom for punishment.

“If you want to run away,” John said, “then do it and don’t ever come back home again! If you run away again, we don’t want to hear from you! Don’t come back and don’t ask us for any money. Just get the hell out of here if you want to go!”

John walked to the closet and removed a leather belt.

“Now bend your ass over that bed,” he said.

Laura obliged and John began hitting her with the strap. Laura was determined not to cry so she clenched her teeth and refused to shed any tears as John struck her. When she thought he had finished, she stood up and started to turn.

She intended to show him that despite the pain, she hadn’t cried. He hadn’t broken her pride.

John was not finished, however, and as Laura turned, the belt caught her on the arm and broke the skin. The sight of her own blood panicked the girl.

“You don’t even know me!” she screamed, holding back tears. “You don’t understand me!”

“You’re right,” John replied, lowering the belt. “I don’t.”

“My father never hit me again after that,” Laura told me.

After a five-day drive across the country with the family, and with
The Dirty Old Man
in tow, John reached a suburban D.C. motel. He left the kids splashing in the pool and Barbara drinking in their rented room while he drove to a dead drop exchange with the KGB. He had several rolls of film from the
Niagara Falls
to deliver, and he also wanted to tell the Russians about his new assignment in Norfolk and, most importantly, his new partner.

As a staff officer in the Amphibious Force, Atlantic Fleet in Norfolk, John knew that he would have limited access to cryptographic equipment.

“I believe I will only have access to the KG-13 keylists,” John explained in his dead drop note to the KGB. “No access to KW-7.”

But, the note continued, there was still a very good chance that he could keep a steady flow of KW-7 keylists coming. His closest friend, Jerry Whitworth, had agreed to become a spy and reenlist in the Navy.

“I never had any intention of keeping Jerry’s identity a secret from the Soviets,” John recalled, “despite my promise to him. It just wasn’t realistic. The Russians weren’t going to play ball unless they knew all the characters.”

John knew the Russians would be upset because he had recruited someone without their permission, but he also knew that the KGB wasn’t going to utter a single complaint about Jerry when it realized how valuable he was going to become to them.

“Whitworth is an expert in communications satellites,” John explained in his note.

“I knew,” John said later, “that mentioning satellites was all it would take to get the KGB excited.”