Dream Fulfilled

In the summer of 1945 I was 14 years old and my dad, a detective with the Akron, Ohio Police Department, took me to the dedication ceremony of a new police pistol range in memory of Clarence Chance, a Cuyahoga Falls police officer killed in the line of duty. The ceremony included a shooting demonstration by two FBI agents, Ken Howe and Chet Willet, from the Akron FBI office. I remember them as tall and slender men, dressed in suits, white shirts and ties, with brimmed hats.

When they finished their demonstration, I was so impressed that I told my dad, "That's what I want to be, an FBI agent."

From that moment on, that's all I thought about, but it took me nearly 20 years to finally reach my FBI "enter on duty" date of Sept. 10, 1962. In the interim, I had graduated from high school, started and dropped out of college, enlisted and spent four years in the army, served in the Korean "Police Action," and fortunately came home in one piece. I proposed to and married Jeanette, and we were blessed to have three children, Jeff, Dawn and Mark. I went back to college and graduated from Kent State University. After a stint as a sales agent for a life insurance company, 18 years after that original career dream, I applied to the Federal Bureau of Investigation at the age of 32.

When I applied to become a special agent, I was 6 feet, 7 inches tall and weighed 287 pounds, so my size posed a nearly impossible obstacle. The Bureau had a weight chart that didn't take into consideration my large frame and heavy bone structure. According to that chart, my height required me to weigh 224 pounds, so I would have to lose more than 60 pounds.

I was determined to lose that weight and immediately went on a tomato and steak diet; I got permission to work out with a local football team during their spring practice and after three months, I weighed 224 pounds; but a final weight and height measurement was required by the FBI and I was measured at 6 feet, 6-3/4 inches. That quarter-inch difference meant I needed to lose another 8 pounds, so I continued my diet and workouts. It took another month, but I lowered my weight to 214 pounds, losing more than 70 pounds in four months!

Once my weight was verified, the Bureau's wheels went into motion. Soon, I received a Western Union message sent to the office in Akron and was excited to read that I was being offered an appointment as a Special Agent of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. This was one of the proudest moments of my life.

The one person I couldn't wait to tell was my dad, but his reaction to my news was more typical of our real relationship. On the surface, dad and I appeared to be close, both as father and son and as friends. But there were two faces to my dad. He and my mother had been divorced before my twin brother and I were born. I admired the work he did as a detective, but I had experienced his inflexibility and his toughness, especially when he didn't get his way. He was strong-willed, never forgot a slight and he believed firmly in the adage that "payback is hell."

I had never told dad about my application to the Bureau. Maybe I didn't want him to be disappointed if I failed, but even more, I was determined to do this on my own. I had even asked the local FBI agents who knew and/or were friends of dad's to keep my application in confidence, so when I got the news, I headed over to the Akron Police Department to find him.

Dad was then the secretary to the chief of police, and he was at his desk. He was surprised to see me, and we chatted until I told him I had something to show him. I handed the telegram to him, thinking he would be pleased and proud.

"What the hell does this mean?" he asked after reading it. "It means what it says," I responded.

He blew up, and all hell broke loose. I was 32 years old and had achieved my life-long dream, but my dad acted as though I were a teenager who had disappointed him, yet again.

"Do you know how embarrassing this is to me?" he finally asked. He explained that Cartha "Deke" DeLoach, an assistant to FBI Director J. Edgar Hoover, was a close friend of his. Not knowing that his own son was applying to the Bureau, when he could have helped to ease my entrance to the agency, was more important than my having accomplished admittance to the FBI on my own.

Suddenly, Police Chief Harry Whiddon walked in, smiled, said hello to me and shook my hand. To my surprise, dad did an about face, flashed a big smile and handed the telegram to the Chief.

"This is our surprise to you," I remember my dad saying. "What do you think?"

Chief Whiddon read the telegram and said he was very happy for me. He then asked us to come into his office where he reached for the phone to call Deke in Washington. By what I could overhear of Chief Whiddon's side of the conversation, I realized Deke didn't know that I had received an appointment. After the chief finished talking with Deke, he handed the phone to dad, who pretended he had known all along that I was applying to the FBI, but didn't want to dampen my desire by interfering and calling an "old friend" for help.

You could have knocked me over with a feather when I heard my dad say this after what he and I had just gone through, but I kept my mouth shut. Dad turned the phone over to me, and Deke remarked about my trying to "fool dad" and how that hadn't worked because "you just can't fool your father."

Deke talked about what a "grand guy" my father was and how dad had played a big role in helping him to start his climb up the ladder in the Bureau. Deke then told me that when I got to Washington, I should tell my instructor that I was to go to the Department of Justice and see Assistant Director Deke DeLoach immediately.

That was something I didn't want to hear. I didn't want my father or his friend to be involved in my career at the FBI. It was important to me that I do this on my own merits, however it turned out. When the conversation concluded, I wanted to get away from my dad as fast...