WALTER E BOTHE OFFICIAL BIOGRAPHY

Mr. Bothe has twenty years' experience in law enforcement and personal security. As a new, young U.S. Secret Service agent, he was selected to be assigned to a small elite group of agents who traveled throughout the U.S. and abroad working on highly dangerous and complex undercover cases directed at the underworld's most hardened and dedicated criminals. He received several commendations for his leadership in the apprehension of a number of most-wanted fugitives. He was assigned as the U.S. Secret Service representative to the federal organized crime strike force - first in New York and subsequently in Los Angeles.

Mr. Bothe's personal security career involved assignments at the U.S. Treasury, the U.S. State Department, and the White House where he was a supervisor on the protective detail assigned to Dr. Henry A. Kissinger. He traveled exclusively with Secretary Kissinger during his many Middle Eastern trips, the opening of China, and to Russia, as well as to the Third World and South America. When Secretary Kissinger left office in 1977, he asked Mr. Bothe to join him as his associate where he directed security and logistics for Dr. Kissinger.

In more recent years, he has been involved in security projects in the private sector, both here in the U.S. and overseas. He has organized security programs for a number of well known individuals and several multinational corporations. He was instrumental in the security arrangements for the late Shah of Iran after his abdication... a most formidable assignment. He works on corporate security programs in highly volatile areas of the world, and is an accomplished firearms and defensive-measure instructor.

Although he has declined numerous television and magazine interview requests, he has worked behind the scenes with ABC and NBC News in providing advice and opinion on security-related news stories.

At present, Mr. Bothe is the senior Security Advisor to Rockefeller Family & Associates. He maintains extensive contacts in the business and government security field around the world. He continues to work with other notable individuals on a case-by-case basis and has worked with several YPO members on their individual security programs. He is widely sought after by colleagues in his own profession for advice and consultation.

1980

October 1974

News and commentary from Amman Jordan.

This is Marvin Kalb, CBS News Diplomatic Correspondent reporting on the CBS radio network.

Good morning.

ODE TO A SECRET SERVICE AGENT

Walter Bothe is 33 years old, a muscular giant with a rolling gait of a sailor. He is one of the Secret Service agents who protect Secretary of State Kissinger. Prematurely bald, sporting only a strip of red hair, he is a storybook hero. His are the blue-green eyes that peer through crowds, at roof tops, at passing poles on a road, searching constantly for that one clue that might indicate danger to the Secretary. On every trip through the Middle East, Cairo, Riyadh, Amman, Jerusalem, Damascus for starters, Bothe has been in Kissinger's shadow. Wherever the Secretary has appeared in public, outside the door, whenever the Secretary has been conferring in private. In Damascus where security for Kissinger must be extremely tight, there are hundreds of thousands of Palestinian refugees here. Bothe generally carries a rapid fire, Israeli made Uzi submachine gun hanging low with his right hand on alert, the safety catch down. In any motorcade, Bothe's bald peak can often be seen leaning out of the window peering down the road looking for any trouble. He is always the last man in the car when the Kissinger motorcade speeds off, the first one out of his car when it comes to a stop. Bothe relishes his job. He has a deep sense of commitment with his colleagues, a profound sense of loyalty to "the man," as he puts it, "the man" being Kissinger. Yesterday morning, shortly before Kissinger's big blue and white jet taxied into position for take off from Cairo's airport, Bothe was shot. It was an accident and he is now in good condition. One of those submachine guns, he so loves to sport, fired off a single round when it fell from a rack in the rear of the plane. Why the weapon malfunctioned is still a mystery. Bothe fell to the floor of the galley, blood streaming from a wound on the right side of his head and from another wound on his right forearm. His first words were, "Don't worry about me, take care of the Secretary." Kissinger was 10, 15 feet away when the accident happened. He went immediately to the front of the plane. Other Secret Service agents pushed down the window shades in his cabin, just in case the shot came from outside, just in case it was an attack. It was not. One of the agents own guns fired off the round. Dr. Martin Wolfe of the State Department, who travels with the Secretary, rushed to Bothe's aid. The plane did not take off. It taxied and stopped three times. After twenty minutes Bothe got up and on his own power climbed into a bunk where he was treated. Kissinger came to the rear of the plane and joked, "Bothe I've always known you were more of a menace than a help." Bothe laughed along with everyone else. Kissinger continued joking, "You would never have done this if the press were not on board." Everyone laughed a little bit more and the tension on board the aircraft snapped. Bothe smiled as he crossed himself. He had survived. No one else was hurt. The man Kissinger, his charge, was unhurt. Later when one of the reporters told Kissinger what Bothe had said, "Don't worry about me, take care of the Secretary," Kissinger smiled softly. "He's a sweetheart," he said. Bothe is an original, and yet in his way, typical of the many other Secret Service agents for whom duty means the maximum sacrifice.

MEMORANDUM

March 16, 1987

TO: Members of the Rockefeller Family and the 5600 Staff

FROM: David Rockefeller

It is with great regret and sadness that I must inform you
of the death of Walter Bothe on Sunday, March 15, at his home in
Solana Beach, California. Walter, who was 46 years of age, had
been under treatment for cancer for several months.

Since 1980 when he joined our staff, Walter was a valued
associate on many of my trips abroad and in this country. In
his position as senior security advisor to the Family Office,
he also provided invaluable assistance to other members of our
family and to the staff.

Survivors include his son, Mark, 13; his parents, Dr. and
Mrs. Russell T. Bothe; a sister, Mary Ann Petree; a niece and
two nephews. His parents' address is: 1320 Sun Valley Road,
Solana Beach, California 92075.

A memorial service will be scheduled at a later date in
New York City.

Walter's family is planning to establish a scholarship in
law enforcement in his name. We will keep you informed as plans
are developed for this memorial.

MEMORANDUM

March 26, 1987

To: Members of the Rockefeller Family and the 5600 Staff

From: George D. Taylor, Jr.

A memorial service for Walter Bothe, who died March 15 in Solana Beach, Calif., will be held Friday, April 10, at 11 a.m. at the First Presbyterian Church, 12 West 12th Street.

The Walter E Bothe Memorial Scholarship Fund for law enforcement studies is being established at Michigan State University, East Lansing, Michigan. Contributions may be sent to Betty Listello, Room 5600, who will forward them to the university.

BEACON-NEWS, Monday, March 16, 1987. Sect. A 7

Walter Bothe (center) works on security detail for Henry Kissinger.

Former security agent dies

By Steve Lord

The Beacon-News

An Aurora native who traveled the world as a security agent for influential government officials died Sunday at his home in California.

Walter Bothe, 46, of Solana Beach, Calif., died of cancer. He was raised in Aurora and graduated from West Aurora High School. He was the son of Dr. Russell Bothe, a long-time Aurora surgeon, and Edith Bothe.

Mr. Bothe was an agent for the U.S. Secret Service and was assigned to head security for Henry Kissinger, former National Security Council adviser and Secretary of State under presidents Richard Nixon and Gerald Ford.

During a 12-year career, he accompanied Kissinger on high-level diplomatic trips to China, the Middle East, the Soviet Union, South America and to Third World countries.

He later headed Kissinger's private security force. Most recently, he was an independent security consultant for multinational corporations and prominent individuals, including the Rockefeller family in New York City.

Despite his travels around the world, he always remembered and relished his Aurora roots, according to Aurora friends. He maintained a close friendship with Phillip Ruddy, an Aurora attorney. The two were best friends at West Aurora High School.

"He would call from all over the world," said Colleen Ruddy, Phillip's wife. "I think he liked to call Aurora and sort of touch base."

Ruddy said Mr. Bothe was known for his sense of humor. She remembered when her husband flew to Acapulco to spend time with Mr. Bothe, who was guarding Kissinger at the time.

The trip was supposed to be all pleasure, but when Phillip Ruddy arrived in Acapulco — after talking his way in broken Spanish into the Kissinger compound — he learned that Kissinger had an emergency meeting with Mexican President Portillo in Mexico City.

Mr. Bothe asked Ruddy to fly with them to Mexico City, which Ruddy did, with the entire Mexican police contingent of the security force.

"Bothe told them (the police) to treat Phillip carefully because he was a karate expert," Colleen Ruddy said. "All the way to the airport, they were making karate motions at him. Phillip had no idea why they were doing it."

Mr. Bothe also showed his sense of humor to his boss. Once, Kissinger asked him what would happen if someone tried to kidnap him.

"Don't worry, Mr. Secretary, we won't let them take you alive," Mr. Bothe said.

He worked for Kissinger as a Secret Service agent until Kissinger left office and lost his Secret Service escort. Kissinger formed his own security force in 1977 and asked Mr. Bothe to manage it for him. He did that until 1980, when he became a private security consultant.

He maintained his residence in California, and another residence in New York City.

Survivors, besides his parents, include: a son, Mark, of Solana Beach; a sister, Mrs. David Petree, of Solana Beach; a niece and two nephews.

Funeral services will be held in Solana Beach later this week, although time and date are not set.

WASHINGTON POST

3/17/87

WALTER BOTHE,

46, a former Secret Service agent who was assigned to Henry A. Kissinger when Kissinger was national security adviser and then secretary of state in the Nixon and Ford administrations, died of cancer March 15 at his home in Solana Beach, Calif.

Mr. Bothe, who also maintained a residence in New York City, had been an independent security consultant since 1980.

A native of Aurora, Ill., he graduated from Coe College in Cedar Rapids, Iowa. He received a master's degree in public administration from Michigan State University in 1965 and then joined the Secret Service.

He was assigned to the Federal Organized Crime Strike Force in New York and Los Angeles before being transferred to Washington in 1970. He accompanied Kissinger on many trips around the world and resigned from the Secret Service to continue working with him after he left the government in 1977.

Mr. Bothe remained with Kissinger in Washington until 1980, when he established his security consulting business in New York. Among his clients were the Rockefeller family.

His marriage to Maureen Bothe ended in divorce.

Survivors include one son, Mark Bothe of Irvine, Calif.; his parents, Dr. and Mrs. Russell T. Bothe of Solana Beach, and one sister, Mrs. David Petree, also of Solana Beach.

WASHINGTON POST

4/6/87

MEMORIAL SERVICES

BOTHE, WALTER
A memorial service for WALTER BOTHE, who died March 15, at his Solana Beach, Calif. home, will be held Friday, April 10 at 11 a.m. at the First Presbyterian Church, 12 W. 12th St., New York City. Contributions in his memory may be made to Michigan State University for the Walter E. Bothe Memorial Scholarship Fund, 4700 So. Haga-dorn Rd., Suite 220, East Lansing, Mich. 48823.

Mar 17 2 11 PM '87

E36USS 1222EDT 031787 NYC366 NWK557 BOS614 PRV362

//ROUTINE//

FM: HEADQUARTERS (ATD - PUBLIC AFFAIRS) FILE: 178.050

TO: DIRECTOR

DEPUTY DIRECTOR

ALL ASSISTANT DIRECTORS

ALL ASSISTANTS TO THE DIRECTOR

ALL FIELD OFFICES

ALL RESIDENT AGENCIES

ALL PROTECTIVE DIVISIONS

ALL HEADQUARTERS SAIC'S AND DIVISION CHIEFS

UNIFORMED DIVISION (FMB AND WHE)

CHIEF COUNSEL

SATS MILLER

INTERPOL

SUBJECT: DEATH OF FORMER SPECIAL AGENT WALTER A. BOTHE

ON MARCH 15, 1987, FORMER SPECIAL AGENT WALTER A. BOTHE PASSED AWAY AFTER AN EXTENDED ILLNESS.

THERE WILL BE NO VIEWING. HOWEVER, MEMORIAL SERVICES WILL BE HELD ON WEDNESDAY, MARCH 18, 1987, AT 1:30 P.M. AT ST. PETER'S EPISCOPAL CHURCH, 1 PARISH LANE, DEL MAR, CALIFORNIA, FOLLOWED BY A GRAVESIDE CEREMONY AT EL CAMINO MEMORIAL PARK.

AN ADDITIONAL MEMORIAL SERVICE WILL BE HELD IN THE NEAR FUTURE IN NEW YORK CITY. DETAILS OF THIS SERVICE WILL BE THE SUBJECT OF A LATER TWX.

THE ROCKEFELLER FAMILY IS ESTABLISHING A WALTER A. BOTHE MEMORIAL SCHOLARSHIP FUND FOR LAW ENFORCEMENT OFFICERS. THOSE WISHING TO CONTRIBUTE MAY SEND DONATIONS TO THE ATTENTION OF ATSAIC JOHN SIMON IN THE NEW YORK FIELD OFFICE. ALL CHECKS SHOULD BE MADE PAYABLE TO THE WALTER A. FOTHE SCHOLARSHIP FUND.

HEADQUARTERS (ATD - PUBLIC AFFAIRS) SNOW

[2c]

# WALTER E. BOTHE EULOGY

## Philip C. Ruddy

### March 18, 1987

Back in the 1950's when John Plain, Joyce Clark and I were growing up with Walter in a small mid-western town in Illinois called Aurora, a special friendship developed between Walter and myself that's always been somewhat difficult to explain. I suppose that one factor in that relationship may have been the difference in our personalities. Even then Walter was the strong, silent type while I have been seldom accused of being either strong or silent.

In any event, during those teenage years John, Joyce and I, together with many other fellow teenagers, looked upon Walter as the fellow who always had the car - his mother's grey stationwagon, in which we spent long hours driving up and down West Downer Place looking for something that would disrupt the tedium of those long days. For Walter was the first one in our group to have a drivers license. He was the first one in our group to have a steady date and he was the first one in our group to be able to buy beer without a fake ID.

After we graduated from high school Walter and I went on to college. Walter attended Coe College in Iowa - graduated in 1963 and went on to attend Baylor Law School. I graduated from Notre Dame and went to law school myself. After one year of law school, however, Walter decided that he could best enforce the law from the streets and he told me that he would leave me to do it from the courtroom. Walter then received a Masters Degree in Criminology from Michigan State University, and was recruited by the Secret Service.

Since that time, of course, Walter has traveled all over the world in his capacity as a Secret Service agent and as Security Advisor for the Rockefellers.

I, on the other hand, have pretty much remained homebound in our native community taking a vicarious pleasure from Walter's stories in connection with the Secret Service. I am reminded of one of the stories, a not particularly important story, but one that seems poignant now. It concerns an incident when Walter, then a young Secret Service agent in the 1960's assigned to a special strike force in New York City, together with his undercover colleagues, surrounded a tenement in Little Italy attempting to convince the occupant of the tenement apartment to surrender himself to the warm and loving arms of

the Secret Service. At some point during the seige, Walter's superior turned to him, handed him a bullhorn and said "Walter, talk him out of there". And as Walter told me later, he turned to his superior and said, "I'll give it a shot, but I have a friend in Aurora, Illinois who is a lot better at persuading people than I am."

Well, as I stand here today I feel that Walter has finally passed me that bullhorn. And for one of the few times in my life I am practically speechless.

What can I say about Walter Bothe that those of us in this church don't know. To those of you who worked with him, to the Secret Service agents and colleagues on the police force, John Viggiano, John Simon, Bill Fairweather, Tom Doyle, John L. Sullivan, Speedie Lewis, he was an archtype Secret Service agent.

Not long before he died, Walter played for me a tape that was made by Marvin Kalb approximately thirteen years ago and I thought it appropriate to share it with you today. It was a broadcast done by Marvin Kalb on CBS News as Walter was accompanying Secretary Kissinger on his shuttle diplomacy tour from Damascus through the Middle East and I quote from Marvin Kalb:

## Ode to a Secret Service Agent

"Walter Bothe is 33 years old, a muscular giant with a rolling gait of a sailor. He is one of the Secret Service agents who protect Secretary of State Kissinger. Prematurely bald, sporting only a strip of red hair, he is a storybook hero. His are the blue-green eyes that peer through crowds, at rooftops, at passing poles of a road searching constantly for that one clue that might indicate danger to the Secretary. On every trip through the Middle East, Cairo, Riyadh, Amman, Jerusalem, Damascus for starters, Bothe has been in Kissinger's shadow. Wherever the Secretary has appeared in public, outside the door, whenever the Secretary has been conferring in private. In Damascus where security for Kissinger must be extremely tight, there are hundreds of thousands of Palestinian refugees here. Bothe generally carries a rapid fire, Israeli made Uzi submachine gun hanging low with his right hand on alert, the safety catch down. In any motorcade, Bothe's bald pate can often be seen leaning out of the window peering down the road looking for any trouble. He is always the last man in the car when Kissinger's motorcade speeds off, the first one out of the car when it comes to a stop.

[2C]

Bothe relishes his job. He has a deep sense of
commitment with his colleagues, a profound sense of
loyalty to "the man," as he puts it, "the man" being
Kissinger. . . Bothe is an original, and yet in his
way, typical of the many other Secret Service agents
for whom duty means the maximum sacrifice."

To his secretary, Betty Listello, Walter must have
been an enigma. She began working for him approximately one
year ago and I dare say she will never work for a more unique
individual in her life. His knowledge of guns and antiterror-
ism was typical of her expectations of her boss, but his love
for country music was an added bonus and a common bond between
them.

To his friends outside of the Secret Service, and I
include myself, Melissa, George and Linda, Georgia, Jane, John
Plain and so many others throughout the world, Walter was one
of the most gentle friends we could ever have. The times we
spent together, those enumerable times we spent together,
drinking wine, listening to music, watching TV, going to films
... those were the good times.

And during those times, Walter would frequently talk
about his son, Mark Russell, whom he loved with a fierce but
quiet love, proud of the young man that Mark was coming to be.
And Mark, I say to you today, that your father's friends will
be there to lend you strong support whenever you need it in the
future, wherever you may be.

To Mary Ann Petree, Walter's devoted and loyal sister,
who throughout his life was a great comfort to Walter whom she
called "Yaddie". During these last few days it was her sacri-
fices and those of her mother, Edith, that provided great
comfort to Walter in these last four months. These have been
difficult times for her husband, David and their children,
Jennifer, Greg and Matt, and I know they were sacrifices of
love and loyalty.

Doctor and Mrs. Bothe, whom I have known for so many,
many years, have every reason to be proud of their son and I
suspect have been made even more proud to see the large numbers
of letters and phone calls and people that have come to this
state during these last few months to pay their respects to
their son.

For if there is any common denominator between all of
the circles of friends that Walter has developed over the years,
I would say that it is loyalty. And if there is any good that
comes from this experience it is that Walter had four months in
which to experience that loyalty and we in turn were blessed
with the opportunity to display it to him.

Mrs. Bothe was telling me the other day that during the entire four months Walter never once complained about the pain, never once complained about the inevitable end that he must have known was soon coming and I suspect that that gives testimony to the consolation that Walter must have derived from knowing that we loved him and cared for him.

Walter died too young but he left us a legacy: a fine son, loving parents, loyal friends and lasting memories. And as Walter might say, "that's what it's all about, Ruds, that's what it's all about."

WALTER E. BOTHE EULOGY

Bill Fairweather

March 18, 1987

The other night, I received a call from Walt's sister, honoring me with a request to eulogize him here today. You may all rest assured it was with no sense of immodesty that I humbly accepted this honor and, frankly, have been thinking of little else since . . . just HOW to "capture the man"; not, in and of itself, a particularly easy task, given his elusiveness.

Having never been so honored before, initially, I was somewhat unsure exactly how to proceed. So, I set forth with certain criteria . . . keep it simple, unembellished, befitting, but, most importantly, something of which Walt would, himself, approve . . . that is not make him greater in death, than he was in life!

All of us here knew and loved Walt in our own individual way. Each of us would likely lay claim to having been closest to him or, to have known him best, or, loved him more . . . as if someone's keeping score. Certainly, Walt never did . . . keep score, that is. No, Sir! Walt was neither petty nor expectatious and needed not pretension, for he was ultimately so unique, virtually personifying the word "individualist". He was the lone wolf, a predator of life. It was for him to BE emulated . . . not for him TO emulate, for he was the standard bearer, a hero of sorts, who so often said so little, yet, always did so much. Oftentimes, it struck me that the cliche' "actions speak louder than words", just must've certainly been in reference to Walt.

I knew Walt both personally and professionally. I won't deal with superlatives here, but I was, indeed, very close to this man; I knew him and you bet . . . I loved him. The measure of the man, as I see it, is that one's life was immeasurably enhanced, simply for having had, what I considered, the privilege of being able to count him as a true friend. Walt Bothe was without doubt nor exaggeration, the single most influential person in my life and I dare say I'm not alone here today in that regard. Were it not for Walt, countless others, myself included, would have never gained in life's experience, and thus perspective, that which we were otherwise afforded through, and because of, our association with him.

[LC]

This man walked and worked with the recognizable giants of this world, plying his trade on his own terms, commanding the respect of those who our children, and their children, shall read about in their history books. Yet, to his great credit, he shunned all limelight, preferring the "behind the scenes" approach and thus, convincingly and unselfishly, proved to be the consummate pro. A brief look at the correspondence received by Walt since the onset of this dreaded disease, which literally stole him from us, would quickly establish the societal attitude of his everyday circle of friends. And then, certainly there's us . . . the commoners, so to speak, with whom Walt also equally related. I can recall, in introducing me to Secretary Kissinger for the first time ten years ago, he teasingly remarked that he had found and recruited me after I'd ungraciously fallen from the rear of a police SWAT van and had sent me to charm school thereafter for the finishing touch.

Ironically, Walt and I shared some background commonalities, though both of our fathers were physicians, surgeons both . . . both of us had ties to that renowned institution of higher learning, Coe College, of Cedar Rapids, Iowa fame . . . both degreed in Criminal Justice . . . both veterans of pursuing bad guys on our urban streets, and ultimately . . . both doing likewise in the international arena. But, that's where all similarities definitely and most certainly end; for Walt innately had qualities which I can only strive for and, most likely, and, in spite of endeavoring my best, shall never truly realize nor attain.

He was bright and, oh, so shrewd, forever exuding that degree of self-confidence that was so synonymous with him, yet without alienating others with even a hint of arrogance. And, tough?! Let me tell you "tough" . . . this man could get it done, and, in legendary fashion! As those among us today who make or made their living . . . "on the job" . . . can attest, if ever a real life-and-death situation arose with less than enviable odds, and, we could choose but one man to have at our side or back to back with us we could do no better than to count on Walt. The beauty of this man would show forth because, EVERY TIME he would unhesitatingly answer the bell without fail. One always knew, that with Walt, it was "but for the asking" be it a favor, or needed advice.

I knew Walt for only twelve years of his shortened life, but our relationship was quite concentrated. We covered a lot of ground together, stretching around the world. I worked for Walt several years and thereafter enjoyed a close and special relationship with him. I can say that NEVER, not on a single occasion, did he ever let me down nor disappoint me. Even more remarkable is the fact that in all those years, in spite of our similar volatility in temperament, there was NEVER exchanged a cross word between us.

Appropriately, as important as anyone or anything in
his life was his son, Mark, about whom he spoke often with me
and always for whom he expressed heartfelt paternal pride and
immense love. Wherever Walt was established, be it home or
office, pictures of Mark abounded. As Walt was a profoundly
private man, his family life with his parents and sister was
something I got but a glimpse of, but, what little I personally
observed was typically Walt-like . . . warm, generous and
midwesternly familial.

I think Walt would say, at about this point, "Billy
. . . enough already!" So, I'll leave you all with some final
words.

The one thing about Walt Bothe that stands out above
all else, for me, and I know for some others here today, is
that HERE was the quintessential "man's man!". He was, in my
book, the epitome of what it means to be a man . . . certainly
not without fault nor failing, but with great verve and an
insatiable appetite for life, which he consumed as fully as any
mortal, without malice nor at the expense of others, while
contributing so to those of us whose lives he touched. His
sense of humor, also legendary, was always intact, and we all
shall forever be able to summon from within our memory of him,
that unmistakable hearty laughter, which was as contagious as
it was deep.

These past few months have been trying on us all as
we've watched this majestic hulk of a man criminally reduced
physically, but, once again, Walt served each of us in this
tough time inasmuch as he so typically led by example in which
I shall always remember as having been a real profile in courage.

Walt Bothe . . . my mentor . . . big brother . . .
teacher . . . beacon . . . and best friend! I felt closer to
you than to anyone in even my own family. They can say what
they want about there being no more heroes these days, but
they're wrong; that's simply not true, because . . . you're
mine, friend . . . you're the best and always will be. I loved
ya' and I AM gonna' fiercely miss ya"!

- Billy -

Walter E. Bothe

1941 - 1987

Walter E. Bothe was a native of Aurora, Illinois and attended high school there. He graduated with a bachelor's degree from Coe College in Cedar Rapids, Iowa and received his master's in Public Administration from Michigan State University in 1965.

He joined the United States Secret Service after graduation and served in both the Offices of Investigations and Protective Operations. He was a member of the elite Federal Organized Crime Strike Force in New York and Los Angeles and then supervised protection for senior American and foreign government officials here and abroad.

In 1977 Mr. Bothe resigned from the Secret Service to establish and direct security arrangements for Dr. Henry A. Kissinger, his family and staff. He left that post at the end of 1980 to become senior advisor to Rockefeller Family and Associates on security matters. He also consulted with governments, corporations, and individuals on security until his death on March 15, 1987.

Mr. Bothe lived in New York and Solana Beach, California. He is survived by his son, Mark, of Irvine, California, his parents, Dr. and Mrs. Russell T. Bothe, and his sister, Mary Ann Bothe Petree, all of Solana Beach, California.

Order of Service

PRELUDE Aria in F Major

Handel

CALL TO WORSHIP

PRAYER OF INVOCATION

HYMN 8 "Joyful, Joyful, We Adore Thee"

(Congregation please rise at the first note of the hymns.)

OLD TESTAMENT SCRIPTURES

Psalms 90, 46, 121, 23

PRAYER

REMINISCENCES

Carmine J. Motto
Henry A. Kissinger

HYMN "Amazing Grace"

Amazing grace, how sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me!
I once was lost, but now am found
Was blind, but now I see.

'Twas grace that taught my heart to fear,
And grace my fears relieved;
How precious did that grace appear
The hour my soul believed.

Through many dangers, toils, and snares
I have already come;
'Tis grace has brought me safe thus far,
And grace will lead me home.

The Lord has promised good to me;
His word my hope secure;
He will my shield and portion be
As long as life endures.

When we've been there ten thousand years,
Bright shining as the sun,
We've no less days to sing God's praise
Than when we first begun. Amen.

THE FIRST PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH IN THE CITY OF NEW YORK
NEW YORK, NEW YORK

A SERVICE OF CELEBRATION FOR THE LIFE OF

WALTER E. BOTHE

April 10, 1987

Good Friends, we have been summoned here today by destiny,
which has defined for us this hour. We confess that our help
is in the name of the Lord, who made Heaven and Earth. Eternal
God is our refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms like
as a father. Pitieth his children so the Lord pitieth those
who hold him in awe. God is our refuge and strength, the very
help in time of trouble, therefore will not we fear.

Let us pray.

Eternal God, our heavenly father, who lovest us with
an everlasting love, and canst turn the shadow of our
disappointment into the brightness of day. Help us
in this time to wait upon thee with patience and
believing hearts. And in the silence of this hour,
speak to us of things eternal, that through the
comfort of these scriptures and thy words, we may
have our hope and be lifted into the light and the
peace of our presence. Through Jesus Christ, our
Lord. Amen.

HYMN - "Joyful, Joyful, We Adore Thee"

Let us now hearken unto the words of comfort as they are found
with the Hebrew poets, in the book of Psalms, where it is writ-
ten:

PSALMS 90 -

PSALM 46 -

PSALM 121 -

PSALM 23 -

Now, let us pray.

Almighty and Everlasting God, who alone commit the changes of this mortal life, abidest ever the same. We confess before thee the uncertainty of our life upon the earth. Thou has made our days a handbreath and our age is as nothing before thee, all flesh is as grass, and all the goodliness thereof as the flower of the field. Grass withierth and the flower fadeth, but the word of our God shall stand forever. And therein it is our hope for thou art our Father. Oh Lord, make us to know our end and the measure of our days, what it is that we may know how frail we are. Strangers with thee and travelers as all our Fathers were. For thou are the same and thy years shall have no end.

Amen.

[LC]

REMINISCENCES - Carmine J. Motto

My name is Carmine Motto. I worked with Walter in the Secret Service. He was my friend.

I know of no better way to take a walk down memory lane than by reading from a letter that Walter wrote about a year ago, to his good friend Eddie Walsh, on the occasion of Eddie Walsh's retirement from the Secret Service:

"It doesn't seem possible that nearly twenty years have passed, nor does it seem that long that we rode together down the FDR Drive in New York in a dirty, green Plymouth to the old office at 90 Church Street, where we would park in a bus stop, near a fire plug, and ride up the elevator to an office behind the door with no name - the home of the New York Special Detail. George Sershen would already have the coffee on. We would read through the morning papers and recount the activities of the previous evening while we waited for Motto to come briskly through the door and head straight for the safe in his office to see what was in the pot. If there was something in there, we had no problems, other than going to West Street to get the prisoners out and take them for arraignment. If there wasn't anything in the safe, we had to grab a stack of manila envelopes and hit the street before he started to pace restlessly back and forth in front of our desks complaining about all the money he was paying us.

Perhaps some years from now we will have an opportunity to walk once again up Mulberry Street, in the fall, during the Feast of San Genero and perhaps we will find that guy who guesses your age, occupation and what not. And maybe after you give him his two bucks, he will look down and say, 'this is too easy, I'm going to tell you guys how long you were cops.'"

I can't tell you when I met Walter. Walter just appeared in the office of the New York Special Detail. He always appeared with his buddy, Dan Hurley, about the time we were about to make a raid, a buy, or an arrest. Walter would have already finished his eight hours in his detail and he would come down and help us out.

[L2]

After a while it got quite ridiculous. Walter was putting in about eighteen hours a day. I thought maybe if I had him transferred to our detail things would work out better.

Walt was a joy. He had all the attributes of a great cop. He was strong. He was fearless. I don't know if he owned a watch - he certainly never looked at it. He loved everything about police work.

He also had a sense of humor. I remember one day a Dr. McBride was in my office and I called Walter in to introduce him to him. Walter was proud of the fact that his father was a doctor. And he said, "what kind of a doctor are you?" and Dr. McBride said, "Well, I am a philologist". Walter said, "Oh great, I used to collect stamps myself". The doctor didn't appreciate this.

Walter wasn't much of a paper man, but to see him go out on a case, he always grabbed his attache case. Those of us who knew him knew that if he took his attache case, the job was going to be done. But, if you looked at the attache case, you would know Walter. In there was a .32, a .38, a .45, a .357. He also had an all purpose hatchet, a wrecking tool, leg irons, hand cuffs, a commission book and a badge. And to make it official, he had a ballpoint pen in there. Anytime he went out with that suitcase and the crew went out, it was a warm feeling to know they were on our side. Believe me it was.

I would get a phone call approximately about 3:30 in the morning and it would go something like this:

"Hello, boss?"

"Yeah, Walt."

"Well, we got the plan."

"Fine. What did you get?"

"Well, we got the press, we got the plates, we got the counterfeit money, and we got the prisoner."

"Oh gee, that's fine, wrap it up. Wrap it up and go on home, it's late."

"Well, I'll tell you. We had a little problem with the glass in the door."

"All right, Walt. Another glass? While you are there, find a piece of plywood and nail it across the door, and c'mon, go on home."

"Well, it is not that easy. You know that door is kind of hanging. We are going to have a problem with it."

"Well, take the door off. Nail it across, Walt, and wrap it up. Secure the place."

"What you don't understand boss, this is kind of an old building, and that wall just crumbled."

"All right, Walter. I'll tell you what. Take the prisoner, bring him to West Street and let's call it a night."

"Well, we have another problem. The prisoner was standing pretty close to that wall when it crumbled."

Walt was pulling my leg most of the time, and as I say, it didn't bother me. Walt ran the gamut. He wasn't always a cop, sometimes he was a whole criminal justice system. Every police department in the United States would be better off if they had the luxury of one Walter Bothe, and I have to say Dan Hurley, too. They just were inseparable.

Only the Lord in his infinite wisdom and understanding knows why both of them were called at an early age. I would like to believe - you can't question it, but I would like to believe that maybe St. Peter was having a little trouble up there separating the good guys from the bad guys. He certainly got himself some excellent help.

REMINISCENCES - Henry A. Kissinger

I, too, worked with Walt. And I, too, was his friend. The relationship between security people and the principals they are protecting is inherently a rather complicated one. They are around all the time. They have the only profession in which there must be one hundred percent success. They cannot fail even once.

And, therefore, to be sustained, it requires a certain distance, a great deal of understanding. Now, I must say distance was not what Walt specialized in.

And with his limitless energy, his boundless enthusiasm, his fierce integrity, he was also, somewhat irreverent. When we went to see the Pope with President Nixon, as we entered the audience chamber, Walt turned to me and said "Now, remember, Mr. Secretary, when they say Your Holiness, please don't turn."

And, on a trip to the Middle East, where there were some reports that somebody might try to kidnap me, Walt reassured me by saying, "Don't worry, Mr. Secretary, we will not let them take you alive."

We paid him back, when our airplane hit a pothole and his Uzi submachine gun went off and grazed his head, by telling him that it is rather sad to have a security agent who could miss even if he tried to shoot himself in the head. I say this not to leave the impression of an idlylic relationship.

Walt could be madly exasperating. But it was always in pursuit of his duties, as he saw it. He never wanted anything for himself. He was a member of the family.

My last professional encounter with Walt was very characteristic. He had heard from some agency or other in Washington, on a confidential basis, that there was some security threat against me, which that agency chose not to pass on to me because they had no category in which to deal with it. Walt did not accept this restraint. He barged into my office without an appointment. I was busy and told him to wait. When I came out, I was told that he had gone home because he wasn't feeling well. That was obviously preposterous, and I assumed that he was teaching me that security came first. I saw him a week later in Paris, where he was with David Rockefeller and he told me what he had intended to convey.

And he said that he had a little problem with an ulcer. A few weeks later we found out what really was the problem. And Walt, who had protected us when he was well, took good care of us when he was ill.

Nancy stayed in close touch with him. And, I called him a few weeks ago upon the return from a trip to Asia. He wouldn't even let me ask him how he was. He had heard that there was some problems in staffing the security detail in my office, and he spent ten minutes going over the personalities, the solutions, until I finally interrupted him when I said, "Walt, I really called to find out how you are." And he said, "Well, I don't have much pain. I just would like to get some of my strength back." Three days later, he died. And for all of us who knew him, the world had become an emptier place. For all of us who knew him, there is no question of his strength. We will remember him as a dedicated, loyal, warm, man - and that rarest of all creatures - a good, decent and reliable man.

[LC]

REMINISCENCES - Ted Koppel

I guess that Walter Bothe and I became friends just after he shot himself. Walter was not the sort of man to shoot himself deliberately. There are several people that are still around whom he would have shot deliberately, and felt that he was rendering the world a service in the bargain. But, Walter was not on his own preferred list of targets.

We were, as Dr. Kissinger has indicated, on one of his early visits to the Middle East. In fact we were just leaving Cairo, following what I believe was Secretary Kissinger's first set of meetings in Egypt with Anwar Sadat. Security had been very high and tight, and tension had been very high. The Secretary's plane was taxiing out onto the runway when we suddenly heard gunfire. It sounded very close. There were a few people on the plane trained and equipped to deal with that sort of situation. The rest of us prided ourselves on being thinkers, diplomats, or writers. The thinkers, diplomats and writers hit the floor. The shooting stopped as quickly as it had started, and we suddenly realized that Walter Bothe had been wounded. He had been shot, we later learned, by his own Uzi submachine gun.

There are, as some of you already know, two safety latches on an Uzi - one of them, I am told, is deactivated by squeezing the grip as you pull the trigger. Walt had pretaped that one to a permanent "off" position to give himself that extra fraction of a second that he thought he might need, should he be required to fire the gun. Later tests revealed that if you drop an Uzi from fifty feet, it won't go off. You can drop it from two feet in that condition, and it won't go off. For some strange reason, when an Uzi drops from precisely the height of a storage shelf on which Walter had stashed his gun, it goes off. The bullet passed through the case holding the gun, passed through Walter's arm, grazed his head and then went through the ceiling of the plane.

Dr. Kissinger noted shortly thereafter that Walter was so incompetent as a security guard that he couldn't shoot himself properly. Walter loved that quote - he told it everywhere he went.

But now, here is the point of my telling the story. Several of us grabbed our tape recorders and rushed to interview Secretary Kissinger who was standing with Walter. And my old friend, Marvin Kalb, had the wit to ask the only truly

[lc]

meaningful question, "You're not going to fire Walter are you?"
"Of course not", said Dr. Kissinger, thereby infuriating the
Treasury Department, which sustained the illusion that the
Secret Service agents worked for them. But, it did the trick.
Walter was neither fired, nor seriously punished.

Journalists and Secret Service agents are not natural
allies, but from that moment on, on that particular detail, we
co-existed rather well. Several of us have been friends of,
and befriended by, Walt Bothe since that day.

What often disturbed me about Walter was my growing
suspicion that while I could never have done what he did, he
could very well have done what I do. He had a way of conceal-
ing his intelligence, almost as though he regarded it as some
kind of a handicap.

He had a similar tendency of masking his sensitivity.
Now, it is one thing for a man, or woman, of small intelligence
and little sensitivity to commit themselves to a career in
which they routinely risk their lives defending the lives of
others. But, most of the Secret Service agents I have met are
bright, sensitive men and women. Among them all, Walt was the
most incredible combination of intelligence and strength.
Profane, flamboyant, thoughtful and refined, he could be a
gentle man indeed.

Ours was a sporadic relationship. We did not see
each other often, but we were always comfortable with one
another. Perhaps that does not sound as the greatest tribute
that one man can pay another, but for some strange reason there
are not all that many friends with whom one can feel truly
comfortable. I certainly don't have enough, and while I am
not yet an old man, I know that the void Walt leaves will not
be filled.

[LC]

REMINISCENCES - Jonathan L. Cohen

It's hard for me to believe that Walt is gone - to
know that I won't hear that strong, deep voice or see those
broad shoulders, confident walk and penetrating eyes again. A
man who could handle anything, almost "leap tall buildings in a
single bound", who exuded self confidence and courage, who was
such a quick study of people and things, can't possibly be gone
so suddenly.

I knew Walt for nine years and believe I was his
closest friend outside of law enforcement. During that time,
Walt became a part of my family. He went to my children's
school plays. He even cooked Thanksgiving dinner for us once.
And he came to church services in this church a few times with
us. I learned that that tough, macho image masked a sensitive
warm, gentle and loving person. What was it about this man
that was so special to so many people as this gathering indicates
today?

I always knew that Walt loved a good time, music,
parties, women (God knows), bars. I frankly will never be able
to look at a bottle of Johnny Walker Red Label again and not
think of Walt and the good times we had together. He was
always full of fun, full of life, the wisecrack always ready,
but the serious not very far off, either. And what a good
conversationalist. He could tell you about the latest terrorist
threat or how to dry lettuce leaves!

Walt was a patriot. He loved his country with a
fervor and a sophistication that are unusual. He was so proud
of his tenure in the Secret Service and his brothers in the law
enforcement profession. He talked movingly of the special bond
and trust he shared with all of them. Through Walt I gained a
deep appreciation for the extraordinary people who wear the
Secret Service star.

Walt was devoted to his family. He cherished his
time in California - his house with a beautiful view of the
blue Pacific. He loved to plan improvements to it, to cook,
to have his friends out from the East, especially to sit around
and knock the strange habits of Californians! He was very
happy to be near his parents, and his sister and her wonderful
family. And they cared for him with such love in the final
weeks.

Having his son, Mark, with him in California during
the last year was very important to him, too. He was grateful
to Maureen and even awed by the wonderful boy she is raising.

[hc]

Mark, your father had a real tough time telling you how much he loved you. But I sure knew it. In fact, for nine years I could see he was just bursting with pride because he would tell me about something you had done, and then, he would giggle. Now, Walt never giggled about anything else. At least I never knew him to. I always thought that was a special sign about what he thought about you.

Walt was an exceptional friend. And being his friend was not easy. You had to stay in touch. You had to pay attention. You had to be involved. No, "we must have lunch sometime" with Walt. He reciprocated your friendship in great measure by being concerned, thoughtful, and loyal, and always there when you needed him. Walt's definition of friendship engendered great loyalty from his friends, and this is best illustrated by John Simon, who provided extraordinary support to Walt, especially in the last several months.

Walt was a great teacher. He was excited when somebody he had developed professionally did well, or advanced in some way. He was even proud of the considerable accomplishments of his ex-wives! Bill Fairweather, who was one of his prize students, and who spoke so eloquently in California, said it best, "Walt was always a teacher, right to the end, when he taught us how to die."

Walt's life was short and intense and full. I miss him immensely.

[LC]

REMINISCENCES - David Rockefeller

I think I probably knew Walter Bothe for fewer years than most of you here today, but he made an indelible impression on me from the very first. An impression which grew in intensity when we came to know each other better and better over the past six or seven years. To my mind at least, Walter was in many ways a man of extraordinary contradictions. In some people, contradictions tend to produce inner conflict and disintegration. But in Walter's case, contradictions serve to increase his substance and the richness it conveyed. For example, Walter was a genius in organizing the smallest details of events and trips, but he was never an organization man.

Whether people liked it or not, Walter was very much his own person, in his own quite distinctive style. When the occasion called for it, Walter could be the epitome of the Secret Service agent, right down to the stern expression and the intimidating dark glasses. No one was more skilled than Walter in the use of his well honed tricks of the trade. Yet they were never used to put people down just for the sake of personal advantage. Indeed, though possessing little patience for the bad guys, he was constantly considerate of others.

The significant part of Walter's presence of course, was his powerful physique. Walter was quite literally as strong as an ox and built like a national monument. Yet, Walter was never a violent man. Indeed, he was capable of great tenderness and compassion, especially for those who were weaker than he, or in trouble. Walter could be deeply serious when concerned with the job at hand, or a matter of principle, but he always had a bold and infectious capacity for fun and for humor. Beyond his skills of the guitar, Walter was highly adept at imitations. I am told that he did a good one of me, and I know that he did a very effective one of a certain former Secretary of State. Walter was never malicious and indeed his best humor was usually at his own expense.

One of his legacies is a rich treasury of Walter's stories that continue to give all of us pleasure throughout our lives.

Walter's enjoyment of the good things of life, whether they be fine food, good drink, new adventures, lively conversations, firm friends, and all representatives of the opposite sex, increased the capacity of each of us who knew him to have similar enjoyment. On the recognition that life need not always be grim was one of Walter's great gifts.

[LC]

Over the past six years Walter and I travelled to-
gether extensively through many parts of the world. The exper-
ience that he had gained while working with the previous person
he was responsible to protect, Henry Kissinger, stood him in
good stead, for it appeared that there was no place in the world
where he did not have friends in the security establishment.

When traveling with Walter, I have to say I never had
a moment of anxiety from a security point of view. On the
other hand, we also had an opportunity to share many, many fond
and entertaining experiences.

I recall Walter's distress a few years ago in Guinea,
when I met with and traveled in the car with President Sekou
Toure. We were in a Cadillac touring car with the top down.
I sat beside the President while he himself drove the car with
one hand, waving a white handkerchief in the other to the
cheering crowds, but with Walter sitting nervously in the back
seat looking on all sides for an unfriendly face or a gun.

On another occasion we were in a primitive Indian
village, located near a tropical jungle near the headwaters of
the Orinoco River in Venezuela. The commander-in-chief of the
Venezuelan army was with us. The Indians, who wore nothing but
a loin cloth, and not always even that, were proudly showing
off their skill in target practice with blow guns. The general,
not wishing to be outdone, insisted upon proving his skills
with his pistol. Much to Walter's delight, he missed the
target five times. Walter did not seek to compete, but I have
no doubt that he would have done far better had he done so.

I still have a photograph from another trip that we
took to Thailand, outside the northern city of Changmai. We
were watching elephants pulling teak logs down from the moun-
tains. My photograph is of Walter riding the elephant with a
small boy, who is the elephant's trainer, sitting on the ele-
phant's head guiding him by pinching his ears with his bare
toes. These and many other memories of Walter I shall always
cherish.

The profession that Walter chose was in many ways a
lonely one. Beneath his gregariousness we were sometimes
allowed a fleeting glimpse of his inner feelings. Walter, like
most of us, undoubtedly had moments of self-doubt and perhaps
also of lonliness. Yet, this did not prevent him from writing,
a year or two ago, a touching article about friendship in which
he contrasted the hiding of emotions in his job with the per-
sonal satisfaction in real closeness with another human being.
This personal and deeply caring side of Walter is in many res-

[LC]

pects is his greatest and profound gifts to those of us who remain behind, especially to his close friends and family, and above all to his son, Mark, whom he loved so much.

Life was not as simple for Walter as he sometimes tried to lead us to believe. Yet, he was not daunted by complexity or contradiction, rather he drew from his experience an unusual amount of warmth, humor and concern for what is right, and then he shared those qualities with those around him. All of us who knew him, carry with us this legacy and we, in turn, have the happy duty of sharing it with others.

## PRAYER OF THANKSGIVING AND THE LORD'S PRAYER

Let us pray.

God our Father, from whom we come and to whom we return and in whom we live and move and have our being. We praise thee for our good gift of life, for its wonder and mystery, its friendships and fellowships. We thank thee for the ties that bind us one to another. We bless thee for our loving and patient dealings with us, whereby thou doest ever teach us thy way for the meaning that lies in the heart of sorrow and disappointment, for thy guiding hand along the way of our pilgrimage.

We give a special thanks to thee for thy servant, Walter, recalling all of him that made others love him. Bless thee for the good and gracious influences in his home and training, for all that ministered to his best life. We thank thee for the goodness and the truth which passed from his life into the lives of others, that made the world richer for his presence. Grant us we beseech thee for the comfort of thy presence in the ministry of thy holy spirit. Renew within us the gifts of faith, patience and enduring love, help us to walk amid the things of this world with eyes opened to the beauty and the glory of the eternal. And so, among the sundry and the manifold changes of this life our hearts may surely there be fixed where true joys are to be found. This we pray in the name of Jesus Christ, our Lord, and now we pray together as our Lord taught us, saying:

> Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name;
> thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth, as it
> is in Heaven. Give us this day our daily bread, and
> forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors, and
> lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from
> evil, for thine is the kingdom, and the power, and
> the glory, forever and ever. Amen.

## HYMN 440 - "America, The Beautiful"

Now, the Lord bless you and keep you, the Lord make
his face to shine upon you and be gracious unto you. The Lord
lift up his countenance upon you and give you peace, both now
and forever more.

Amen.

[LC]

<table>
  <tr>
    <td>Edith Bothe</td>
    <td>Mother of WEB</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>Mary Ann Bothe<br>Petree</td>
    <td>Sister of WEB</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>David Petree</td>
    <td>Brother-in-law of WEB</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>John Simon</td>
    <td>USSS. Closest friend of WEB</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>Jennifer, Greg,<br>Matt Petree</td>
    <td>Niece and nephews of WEB</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>Betty Listello</td>
    <td>Secretary of WEB</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>Pauline Griffith</td>
    <td>Aunt of WEB. WEB named for her late<br>husband</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>Mary and Hugo<br>Vivadelli</td>
    <td>Parents of Maureen Wingfield, grand-<br>parents of Mark</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>John Vivadelli</td>
    <td>Brother of Maureen Wingfield</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>Jeanna Otto</td>
    <td>Sister of Maureen Wingfield</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>Lucia Rauratti</td>
    <td>Aunt of Maureen Wingfield</td>
  </tr>
</table>

The Eighteen Eleven

Professional Journal of the Federal Law Enforcement Officers Association

April, 1987

Volume 92

## Secret Service Corner

On March 15, 1987, Walter Bothe died as a result of pancreatic cancer. Since his death I have been trying to write something that would put the man in perspective, but words have failed me. Instead I would like to present Walter's own words on the death of a close friend.
Tom Doyle

## PARTNERS

by Walter E. Bothe

Even for those accustomed to receiving calls in the middle of the night, the jarring ring of the bedside telephone remains unpleasant. I had known the call was likely before retiring on that spring evening several years ago, but it was no less so then. The voice of a colleague said, "Dan's gone. He died at 2:30 A.M. Ruth has gone home to tell the children."

I hung up the receiver and lay staring into the darkness. My best friend, a man with whom I'd worked side by side for ten years, was dead as a result of complications from a misdiagnosed illness. An ignoble was to die for someone who was a Marine in Korea, and then as a Secret Service Agent had survived bullet wounds, a number of brutal fights, and serious auto crashes.

The casket was closed. We had an agreement that, should one of us die, the other partner would see to that. By tradition Dan was honored with a procession of Secret Service vehicles, their red and blue lights flashing, filled with seemingly stoic men in dark suits. Most wore the customary sunglasses, on this occasion as much to conceal their own emotions as to intimidate others.

In the intervening years I kept in touch with Dan's family through occasional calls and cards on special days. I take my son, Mark, to my home in California during the summer. When we were making the arrangements this year, my former wife mentioned that young Dan had been asking his mother about his father. "Why not see if he would like to come to the coast with Mark," I suggested. I was thinking perhaps I could tell Dan something of his father.

I met the two twelve-year-olds at the airport. Mark eagerly launched into his familiar summer routine. Dan, an exact miniature of his father, tagged along, but largely quiet and withdrawn. He watched everyone with a trace of the same expressionless discerning stare I remembered so well from his dad. As the days went by, I alluded to his father several times, but the boy didn't respond.

A few days before the visit was to end, we were walking on the beach. "My mom says that you have my dad's gun." "Yes, I do." I said. "Would you like to see it?" "Gee, Yeah." He replied.

That evening I brought out two revolvers. One in nickel, the gun that his father had carried, which I often carry now, and the other in blue left from his father's collection. He examined the weapons with interest as I explained that it was his mother's wish that I keep them for now. Someday, I said, both would be his, if he wanted them.

In a scrapbook, I showed the boys pictures and memorabilia from the years Dan and I had worked together on undercover and organized crime cases. There were surveillance photos taken by telephoto from blocks away, and, as we looked through them, I related the stories that went with them. I hoped to give the boys some

idea of what Dan's dad had been like, and how important our friendship had been both on and off the job.

They laughed when I told them how we had once commandeered a garbage truck to get a close look at a counterfieter's house, and then had nearly blown the case when the guy's wife chased us up the block because we hadn't picked up her garbage. Another time, while we were dating their mothers, we went to San Genero street festival in New York's "Little Italy." The man there, who for a dollar guessed your occupation, took one look at us and said, "Save your money, I'll even tell you how long you've been cops!"

I showed them a large curved knife which Dan had wrestled from a guy who had lunged at me from the shadows in a dark abandoned building that we were searching. I told them how some weeks later, in an alley in Brooklyn, I had returned the favor by taking a gun away from a fugitive as he was about to shoot Dan.

The scrapbook pictures showed a giant of a man, over 250 pounds, and strong enough to easily lower me from the edge of a rooftop into an open window to surprise an escaped convict. What the pictures could not show was a sensitive career law enforcement officer who went to pray for the recovery of a hoodlum he had to shoot while capturing.

After midnight, with the promise to continue another time, I said I thought we should call it a night. As I went to sleep, I heard the boys still talking. We didn't have a chance to look at the scrapbook again, but it was apparent that Dan had satisfied at least a part of the curiosity about his father, and that I had made a new friend.

As I left the two boys at planeside for the return flight, Dan once again looked at me with that characteristic expression. "Can I come back next year?" "You bet," I replied. And then, but only for an instant, his young freckled face broke into a wide, warm, smile.

I don't know if either Dan or Mark will follow in their fathers' footsteps in law enforcement. It's not important. It was very difficult for me to try to describe a relationship which had always been presumed but never articulated. By training, but I think even more for our own emotional survival, law enforcement officers tend to hide feelings from the outside world and most of all from our families and closest friends. I'm going to keep trying though, because I think it's important for our sons to know the value and strength of even an unspoken friendship.