Selective Sterilization
by E.A. Whitney, M.C.
Birth Control Review [Margaret Sanger]
April, 1933
It has been said that the success of democracy depends upon the quality of its individual elements. This being true it behooves America to do two things. First to encourage the fecundity of those physically and mentally equipped for our civilization, and secondly to restrict the propagation of those physically, mentally and socially inadequate. It is the purpose of this paper to discuss the advisability of selective sterilization as one factor to be utilized in restricting such propagation.
It might be well to mention other methods of limiting propagation, some of which have been successfully used. They are:
1 Segregation
2 Restrictive Marriage Laws
3 Eugenic Education
4 General Improvement in Environment
5 Birth Control
The need for segregation is definite and has a distinct value. It is used to a greater degree in this country than anywhere else in the world, but it is hopelessly inadequate. It would be utterly impossible to segregate all physically, mentally and socially unfit. Furthermore, it is not necessary.
Present restrictive marriage laws are designed to prevent inbreeding by forbidding consanguineous marriages. Some states also have laws regarding marriages of individuals afflicted with social diseases, tuberculosis and other conditions. Restrictive legislation regarding the marriage of the mentally and physically handicapped may be worth while, but it would not eliminate such unions.
Eugenic education is of distinct value. The dissemination to prospective parents of knowledge pertaining to human heredity may aid somewhat in restricting the numbers of unfortunate human beings, but such education reaches only a limited number of those who need this knowledge.
A great deal of effort is now being directed towards improving environmental conditions. Plans are made and are being developed both here and abroad which will tend to eliminate slum conditions in large cities. Too much stress can not be laid on environment as a factor in creating inadequacy. Correct living conditions will improve the mental and physical status of future generations tremendously. The mental hygienists have repeatedly shown how frequently mental disorders are the direct result of faulty environment. However, environment is but one factor in the production or correction of unfitness and can never entirely eliminate the far-reaching force of heredity.
Birth control is of importance when it advocates birth selection by encouraging reproduction of the mentally, physically and socially adequate and the birth restriction of those not so equipped. It is to be regretted that birth control instruction does not, as a rule, reach those who need it most. Dr Albert E. Wiggam when addressing the New York Association of Biology Teachers said that morons are multiplying more rapidly than college professors. He stated that at the present rate of birth there will be but 50 descendants in six generations of 1000 Harvard graduates whereas a like number of unskilled workmen will have 100,000 descendants in six generations. It is easily seen that birth control to be of real worth needs to reach all sections of society.
All of the above mentioned measures are useful in their respective fields in curbing the increase of mental, physical and social degeneracy. But it is an unfortunate fact that those who should not reproduce are of such low mentality that they cannot adequately grasp the ideas and meanings of restrictive marriage laws, eugenic education and birth control. Therefore selective sexual sterilization has a distinct place in our efforts to better humankind.
The present conception of the need of human sexual sterilization is of recent origin. The use of this procedure to treat many of the cacogenic people in our midst in order to reduce inadequacy dates back in legal circles to the 1897 Session of the Michigan Legislature At this time a bill was presented proposing sterilization but it failed to be enacted. It was not until 1907 that a statute for sexual sterilization was passed and approved, the Indiana law of March 9, 1907. Although the legal aspect of the present conception of selective sterilization is but thirty-four years old, it has been advocated and used by various institutions for nearly fifty years. One of the first to advocate sterilization as a means of lessening the number of incompetents was Dr Isaac Kerlin of Pennsylvania.
The term ''Selective Sterilization" is used advisedly. Not all of the mental, physical and social inadequates of our population need such measures to prevent the propagation of their kind. Considering the group of degenerates as a whole it is but a relatively small number to whom such a procedure need be applied.
Reference is made throughout this discussion to the mentally, physically and socially inadequates. One might ask who are included m this group, since it is for those so afflicted that sterilizatlon is suggested as a desirable measure. Those classed as inadequate include
1 The Mentally Defective
2 The Mentally Diseased
3 The Epileptics
4 Those afflicted with certain physical disorders, such as Leprosy
5 The Defective Delinquents
6 The Moral Degenerates
7 The Drug Habituates
8 Those afflicted with social disease, such as Syphilis
9 The confirmed Criminals
The present valid statutes in the United States provide for the human sterilization of the following groups of people:
32 affecting the Feeble-minded
18 affecting the Insane
18 affecting the Idiots
18 affecting the Epileptics
16 affecting the Imbeciles
7 affecting the Rapists
7 affecting the Moral Degenerates
7 affecting the Hereditary Recurrent Insanity
6 affecting the Habitual Criminals
2 affecting the Hereditary Criminals
Besides these there is one statute providing for sterilization of each of the following classes:
1 Confirmed Criminals,
2 Two times sex criminals with present moral depravity,
3 Lifers with one previous crime and present moral depravity,
4 Syphilitics,
5 Incurable Chronic Manias,
6 Dementias,
7 Hereditary Criminals,
8 Diseased and Degenerate People,
9 Sodomists,
10 Those guilty of crimes against nature,
11 Habitual Sexual Criminals
The claim has often been made that the sterilized individual knowing that he cannot reproduce will develop sex promiscuity. If such were the case it is claimed that these individuals would be a potent factor in the spread of social diseases. However, from the best available data on the subject, namely the studies of Gosney and Popenoe in California, there seems to be no foundation for this fear.
Objections have been raised because of religious doctrines. However, many individuals of all creeds and denominations have been sexually sterilized with the consent of their religious advisers. Each case must be considered separately and when facts warrant the advisability of sexual sterilization the religious adviser rarely objects.
The question of proper administration of sexual sterilization laws is often raised. At the present time there is no uniformity in the methods of control of these statutes. In order to obtain uniformity in administration it is necessary to have a general underlying motive for sterilization. As has been shown the present valid statutes provide for sterilization for a variety of reasons. The three principal motives for sterilization are hereditary, therapeutic and punitive. If the individual proves to be mentally, physically or socially inadequate, and the underlying cause of his condition is heredity, he should have the benefits of sterilization. Therapeutic sterilizations are performed In the surgical practice of all hospitals. They are done for a variety of reasons, such as heart disease, kidney disease, pelvic disorders and following a second caesarean section, and no question is ever raised in the legality of the procedure for such conditions. The punitive human sterilization acts have rightly been criticized by the opponents of selective sterilization. At one time seven states had laws punishing convicts by sterilization, but many of these are now declared unconstitutional. Except where the one convicted is definitely an hereditary or moral criminal, sterilization is never justified.
If the basis for such procedures is to be primarily heredity, there is a need for a better system of determining pedigrees. There are but few individuals who know their own family trees intimately. At the present tune our Public School systems are so organized that they can and do gather a great deal of statistical data concerning each child in their care. These organizations could easily undertake scientific pedigree studies and such records might be filed in each State's welfare or eugenic office. These records would be of value for many purposes and would serve as an ever-ready reference for physicians and sociologists as well as eugenists. Such facts as they might establish would be the foundations for the recommendation of selective sterilization, for non-institutionalized physically, mentally or socially inadequate individuals. Whenever the evidence of the inheritance of undesirable qualities through successive generations is potent, and whenever the individual exhibits these traits, then authority for his sexual sterilization should be given.
The question as to who should give such authority is often raised. The physician in attendance is the one best fitted to judge as to the need. After complete medical examination of the individual and careful survey of his history the physician should have the right to request the legal authority for sexual sterilization. In cases where the individual is an institutional charge it should be within the authority of the head of such institutions to have all inadequates sexually sterilized before their release from his custody. Parole would be of greater value and fraught with much less danger were all the mentally, physically and socially inadequate, who might be eligible to parole, sterilized.
The time has arrived when all forward-looking citizens should seriously consider the necessity of dealing with the rising tide of degeneracy. One factor of proven worth is selective sterilization. Its greatest field of usefulness is in selected individual cases of mental, physical or social inadequacy of hereditary origin.
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Corruption, vice and racketeering: The dubious activities of the Swamis of Rishikesh
by Dilip Bobb and Bharat Dogra
India Today
April 5, 2014
ISSUE DATE: June 30, 1978 UPDATED: February 23, 2015 17:07 IST
The recent flurry of allegations against Maharishi Mahesh Yogi and his alleged involvement in the planting of a nuclear device on Nanda Devi has once again focused on the dubious activities of a majority of India's so-called Swamis. INDIA TODAY correspondents Dilip Bobb and Bharat Dogra recently conducted an investigation into the dubious activities of the Swamis of Rishikesh, where corruption, vice and organized racketeering are the rule rather than the exception.
The changing face of spiritualism - an impoverished ascetic lies on a bed of nails
The recent flurry of accusations against India's major religious export, Maharishi Mahesh Yogi, and his alleged involvement in the CIA-inspired planting of a nuclear device on Nanda Devi, has resurrected the age-old controversy surrounding the front-runners in the Swami sweepstakes.
Three days before the allegations hit the headlines, Mahesh Yogi's private, six-seater Bell helicopter had been impounded by Indian custom officials for failure on the Yogi's part to produce a valid licence to keep the aircraft in the country.
The Yogi himself was seemingly unconcerned about the recent developments. He was, in fact, snugly ensconced in his "religious university" in snow-clad Switzerland, peddling his patented brand of TM (transcendental meditation) to the locals. "Mahesh Yogi never spends the summer in Rishikesh. Its too hot here... He always stays in Switzerland during the summer months", admitted one of the Yogi's swami spokesman, seated comfortably in the lotus position on a three-inch thick Dunlop matress.
The luxurious, air-conditioned residence of Mahesh Yogi (inset) in Rishikesh
Instant Fame
Surrounding the newly-constructed basement room where the Swami held court, was the sprawling 100-acre "university" that launched the hirsute Yogi into instant international fame because of his connections with George Harrison and the Beatles. The complex itself, a vast, jigsaw-puzzle of architectural aberrations, was uninhabited by the Yogi's major source of income - foreigners in search of instant nirvana.
Apparently the Yogi is more of a crowd-puller than the pre-recorded gospels he preaches on casettes or piped into the more luxurious "guest houses" that litter the campus. "The earnings of the university in Rishikesh are negligible. Our main source of income is from the foreign TM centres and donations from abroad", the Yogi's spokesman frankly admitted.
But while the divine dealings of Mahesh Yogi are cloaked in comparative secrecy - even the locals in Rishikesh know little of the goings-on behind the barbed-wire fence that encircles the Yogi's ashram - his ecclesiastical colleagues have become increasingly blatant in the art of the religious rip-off.
Gateway
Nowhere is this more evident than in the holy city of Rishikesh - "The gateway to heaven" as the tourist brochures describe it. Unfortunately, the yellow brick road leading to the gateway has become overcrowded with swamis of various religious hues, intent on skimming off large measures of the commercial pickings that are available in plentiful supply.
The 13-storied Kailashnand Mission
Lakshman Jhoola, the religious centre of Rishikesh, has become a vast, multi-ringed spiritual circus. The sadhu supine on a bed of nails, the throngs of hairy hippies, the endless rows of lepers, beggars, touts and ganja-smoking ascetics are merely the sideshows. The real religious rake-offs occur within the hallowed portals of the garishly designed ashrams clustered along the banks of the holy Ganges.
The most blatant example of this is the Swami Kailashnand ashram - a 13-storied spiritual supermarket where an average day's take runs into thousands of rupees. Each floor is dedicated to a separate deity, thus widening the number of prospective devotees. Inside, every available space has been converted into a money-spinning stall - there are more collection boxes in the ashram than the number of glass-caged gods enshrined in orderly rows like animals in a zoo.
Commercialism
The first floor of the so-called ashram is devoted to a curio shop, selling bangles, beads and similar baubles ostensibly for spiritual sustenance. The floor above sells herbal medicines which claim to cure anything from asthma to ulcers, while the remaining floors house the hundreds of zoo-like cages occupied by gods for every occasion. There are well over a hundred different deities, each one more grotesque than the next, perched benignly above the inevitable collection boxes.
Swami Kailashnand himself seems to have highly dubious antecedents. He was arrested in 1966 on spying charges and a powerful transmitter was seized from his possession. He was again put under surveillance by the cabinet secretariat in 1973 for alleged involvement in a foreign exchange racket, but somehow managed to wriggle out of that as well.
Some of the 210 meditation-cum-residential rooms in Mahesh Yogi's spiritual centre - buying spiritualism
Recently two employees of the Kailashnand Mission Trust died under highly dubious circumstances, but no action seems to have been taken so far. One possible reason for their infallibility, spiritual as well as physical, is the evidence of political patronage enjoyed by a majority of the better-known swamis. Kailashnand had erected a huge hoarding extolling the virtues of Indira Gandhi's 20-point programme outside his ashram. Needless to say, the hoarding was hastily removed in the wake of the Janata's victory in the March elections.
Religious Mafia
Political patronage, however, is a relatively mild, though necessary evil. Interviews with a number of former employees of some of Rishikesh's ashrams reveal a level of organized corruption, large scale financial fiddling, sexual depravity and gangsterism that would make the Mafia look like boy scouts in comparison.
Interviews with three former employees of one such ashram - the Baba Kali Kamli Wala Panchayati Chettar - offer an insight into the murky underworld of the spiritual soft-sell. Ram Prasad Badhani, an emaciated former clerk in the ashram, was arbitrarily sacked about a year ago by the trustees of the ashram. So far, the ashram has refused to pay him any of the benefits legally due to him, like provident fund, bonus and gratuity.
A curio shop inside the Kailashnand ashram - a spiritual supermarket
"None of the employees have been given their provident fund," he stated. "It is not kept in a fixed deposit in our names but in the name of the ashram. I don't have the money or the contacts to fight them legally, so I have to keep silent." Badhani pulled out a file containing letters of complaints he has sent to the Home Ministry, and other Government departments, none of which have taken any action in the matter.
Badhani also named three former ashram employees (Bandhu Ram, Om Prakash and Nand Ram) who had died in service. Their widows have still to see any of the accumulated dues they are entitled to. "We are also scared of the goondas hired by most of the swamis in Rishikesh," said Kalawati, one of the widows. She has, however, refused to vacate her tiny, claustrophobic room belonging to the ashram, even though the ashram management has cut off her water and electricity supply.
Financial Fiddling
The interviewees, along with some current employees of the ashram who refuse to be named, outlined some facets of the financial fiddling that takes place under the mantle of spiritualism. For instance, a large number of donors send money to the ashrams for having rooms built in their names. A majority of these rooms do not exist, though the donors are told the opposite.
Lakshman Jhoola - gateway to a dubious heaven
"In some cases," said the treasurer of one of the ashrams, "the donors write and tell us they are coming for a visit. All we do is replace the name on one of the rooms with that of the donor, and nobody suspects that thousands of rupees are being embezzled every month."
Another favourite fiddle is the langars (free kitchens) organized by the ashrams ostensibly to feed the destitute. Most ashrams claim langars are organized for about 500 people. In reality they may feed a mere handful. Since most of the finances for the langars is sent from donors outside Rishikesh, the balance of the money is tucked away under a saffron-coloured sarong.
Grants
Ironically, another common practice is siphoning off Government grants given to religious trusts. Almost all the ashrams receive grants for maintaining cows and cowsheds. The milk products from this are supposed to be distributed to the poor and the needy. Instead, it is blatantly sold in the open market.
In fact, some ashrams getting such grants don't even bother to purchase cows, but merely pocket the money instead. Government grants are also given for Sanskrit schools, most of which exist only on paper. According to one of its former employees, the Kali Kamli ashram was still getting a school grant though the school had closed down 1-1/2 years ago.
One of the many sideshows in Rishikesh's religious circus
Trustees
The Kali Kamli ashram is in fact a massive commercial enterprise. According to its brochure for 1972 (the latest available at the ashram) the board of trustees reads like a "Who's Who" of politics and industry. According to ashram employees, the industrialists are not seeking spiritual rebirth, but recycling of their finances.
They allege that since the ashrams operate as "charitable trusts", the opportunities for financial laundering and tax evasion is almost limitless. They also claimed that the ashram's funds, which originate mainly from the big industrialists, are reinvested in the same industrial houses as loans on very low interest rates. Moreover, whatever "donations" are ploughed into the trusts by industrialists and politicians are non-taxable.
Incentive
Another major incentive is the concessions offered to these institutions under the Land Ceiling act. A major portion of the real estate in Rishikesh and the surrounding areas is owned by the ashrams or the presiding high priests of the temples.
The Kali Kamli trust alone owns large orchards in Rishikesh and Kurukshetra covering a total area of approximately 1,000 acres. The farm produce is mainly commercial crops like sugar-cane, oilseeds, wheat and fruits, all ostensibly meant for religious purposes. The trust also owns shops, hotels and eating places in the town.
Pay-offs
Other allegations include payoffs to police officials and local judicial officers to ensure that the status quo is not disturbed. According to one estimate, 90 per cent of the religious centres in Rishikesh allegedly indulge in large scale bribery of the local law enforcement agencies.
The situation is not common to Rishikesh alone. Almost every single religious centre in the country has succumbed to the earthly temptation of instant fortune and fame, however dubious the fame might be. "Let the Government keep the Yogi's helicopter. We got it for free. We are not going to pay the 200 per cent duty required to release it", said Mahesh Yogi's spokesman in Rishikesh. It is also an indication that, to misquote a famous song, the saints have gone marching out, and the sinners have marched in.
by Dilip Bobb and Bharat Dogra
India Today
April 5, 2014
ISSUE DATE: June 30, 1978 UPDATED: February 23, 2015 17:07 IST
The recent flurry of allegations against Maharishi Mahesh Yogi and his alleged involvement in the planting of a nuclear device on Nanda Devi has once again focused on the dubious activities of a majority of India's so-called Swamis. INDIA TODAY correspondents Dilip Bobb and Bharat Dogra recently conducted an investigation into the dubious activities of the Swamis of Rishikesh, where corruption, vice and organized racketeering are the rule rather than the exception.
The changing face of spiritualism - an impoverished ascetic lies on a bed of nails
The recent flurry of accusations against India's major religious export, Maharishi Mahesh Yogi, and his alleged involvement in the CIA-inspired planting of a nuclear device on Nanda Devi, has resurrected the age-old controversy surrounding the front-runners in the Swami sweepstakes.
Three days before the allegations hit the headlines, Mahesh Yogi's private, six-seater Bell helicopter had been impounded by Indian custom officials for failure on the Yogi's part to produce a valid licence to keep the aircraft in the country.
The Yogi himself was seemingly unconcerned about the recent developments. He was, in fact, snugly ensconced in his "religious university" in snow-clad Switzerland, peddling his patented brand of TM (transcendental meditation) to the locals. "Mahesh Yogi never spends the summer in Rishikesh. Its too hot here... He always stays in Switzerland during the summer months", admitted one of the Yogi's swami spokesman, seated comfortably in the lotus position on a three-inch thick Dunlop matress.
The luxurious, air-conditioned residence of Mahesh Yogi (inset) in Rishikesh
Instant Fame
Surrounding the newly-constructed basement room where the Swami held court, was the sprawling 100-acre "university" that launched the hirsute Yogi into instant international fame because of his connections with George Harrison and the Beatles. The complex itself, a vast, jigsaw-puzzle of architectural aberrations, was uninhabited by the Yogi's major source of income - foreigners in search of instant nirvana.
Apparently the Yogi is more of a crowd-puller than the pre-recorded gospels he preaches on casettes or piped into the more luxurious "guest houses" that litter the campus. "The earnings of the university in Rishikesh are negligible. Our main source of income is from the foreign TM centres and donations from abroad", the Yogi's spokesman frankly admitted.
But while the divine dealings of Mahesh Yogi are cloaked in comparative secrecy - even the locals in Rishikesh know little of the goings-on behind the barbed-wire fence that encircles the Yogi's ashram - his ecclesiastical colleagues have become increasingly blatant in the art of the religious rip-off.
Gateway
Nowhere is this more evident than in the holy city of Rishikesh - "The gateway to heaven" as the tourist brochures describe it. Unfortunately, the yellow brick road leading to the gateway has become overcrowded with swamis of various religious hues, intent on skimming off large measures of the commercial pickings that are available in plentiful supply.
The 13-storied Kailashnand Mission
Lakshman Jhoola, the religious centre of Rishikesh, has become a vast, multi-ringed spiritual circus. The sadhu supine on a bed of nails, the throngs of hairy hippies, the endless rows of lepers, beggars, touts and ganja-smoking ascetics are merely the sideshows. The real religious rake-offs occur within the hallowed portals of the garishly designed ashrams clustered along the banks of the holy Ganges.
The most blatant example of this is the Swami Kailashnand ashram - a 13-storied spiritual supermarket where an average day's take runs into thousands of rupees. Each floor is dedicated to a separate deity, thus widening the number of prospective devotees. Inside, every available space has been converted into a money-spinning stall - there are more collection boxes in the ashram than the number of glass-caged gods enshrined in orderly rows like animals in a zoo.
Commercialism
The first floor of the so-called ashram is devoted to a curio shop, selling bangles, beads and similar baubles ostensibly for spiritual sustenance. The floor above sells herbal medicines which claim to cure anything from asthma to ulcers, while the remaining floors house the hundreds of zoo-like cages occupied by gods for every occasion. There are well over a hundred different deities, each one more grotesque than the next, perched benignly above the inevitable collection boxes.
Swami Kailashnand himself seems to have highly dubious antecedents. He was arrested in 1966 on spying charges and a powerful transmitter was seized from his possession. He was again put under surveillance by the cabinet secretariat in 1973 for alleged involvement in a foreign exchange racket, but somehow managed to wriggle out of that as well.
Some of the 210 meditation-cum-residential rooms in Mahesh Yogi's spiritual centre - buying spiritualism
Recently two employees of the Kailashnand Mission Trust died under highly dubious circumstances, but no action seems to have been taken so far. One possible reason for their infallibility, spiritual as well as physical, is the evidence of political patronage enjoyed by a majority of the better-known swamis. Kailashnand had erected a huge hoarding extolling the virtues of Indira Gandhi's 20-point programme outside his ashram. Needless to say, the hoarding was hastily removed in the wake of the Janata's victory in the March elections.
Religious Mafia
Political patronage, however, is a relatively mild, though necessary evil. Interviews with a number of former employees of some of Rishikesh's ashrams reveal a level of organized corruption, large scale financial fiddling, sexual depravity and gangsterism that would make the Mafia look like boy scouts in comparison.
Interviews with three former employees of one such ashram - the Baba Kali Kamli Wala Panchayati Chettar - offer an insight into the murky underworld of the spiritual soft-sell. Ram Prasad Badhani, an emaciated former clerk in the ashram, was arbitrarily sacked about a year ago by the trustees of the ashram. So far, the ashram has refused to pay him any of the benefits legally due to him, like provident fund, bonus and gratuity.
A curio shop inside the Kailashnand ashram - a spiritual supermarket
"None of the employees have been given their provident fund," he stated. "It is not kept in a fixed deposit in our names but in the name of the ashram. I don't have the money or the contacts to fight them legally, so I have to keep silent." Badhani pulled out a file containing letters of complaints he has sent to the Home Ministry, and other Government departments, none of which have taken any action in the matter.
Badhani also named three former ashram employees (Bandhu Ram, Om Prakash and Nand Ram) who had died in service. Their widows have still to see any of the accumulated dues they are entitled to. "We are also scared of the goondas hired by most of the swamis in Rishikesh," said Kalawati, one of the widows. She has, however, refused to vacate her tiny, claustrophobic room belonging to the ashram, even though the ashram management has cut off her water and electricity supply.
Financial Fiddling
The interviewees, along with some current employees of the ashram who refuse to be named, outlined some facets of the financial fiddling that takes place under the mantle of spiritualism. For instance, a large number of donors send money to the ashrams for having rooms built in their names. A majority of these rooms do not exist, though the donors are told the opposite.
Lakshman Jhoola - gateway to a dubious heaven
"In some cases," said the treasurer of one of the ashrams, "the donors write and tell us they are coming for a visit. All we do is replace the name on one of the rooms with that of the donor, and nobody suspects that thousands of rupees are being embezzled every month."
Another favourite fiddle is the langars (free kitchens) organized by the ashrams ostensibly to feed the destitute. Most ashrams claim langars are organized for about 500 people. In reality they may feed a mere handful. Since most of the finances for the langars is sent from donors outside Rishikesh, the balance of the money is tucked away under a saffron-coloured sarong.
Grants
Ironically, another common practice is siphoning off Government grants given to religious trusts. Almost all the ashrams receive grants for maintaining cows and cowsheds. The milk products from this are supposed to be distributed to the poor and the needy. Instead, it is blatantly sold in the open market.
In fact, some ashrams getting such grants don't even bother to purchase cows, but merely pocket the money instead. Government grants are also given for Sanskrit schools, most of which exist only on paper. According to one of its former employees, the Kali Kamli ashram was still getting a school grant though the school had closed down 1-1/2 years ago.
One of the many sideshows in Rishikesh's religious circus
Trustees
The Kali Kamli ashram is in fact a massive commercial enterprise. According to its brochure for 1972 (the latest available at the ashram) the board of trustees reads like a "Who's Who" of politics and industry. According to ashram employees, the industrialists are not seeking spiritual rebirth, but recycling of their finances.
They allege that since the ashrams operate as "charitable trusts", the opportunities for financial laundering and tax evasion is almost limitless. They also claimed that the ashram's funds, which originate mainly from the big industrialists, are reinvested in the same industrial houses as loans on very low interest rates. Moreover, whatever "donations" are ploughed into the trusts by industrialists and politicians are non-taxable.
Incentive
Another major incentive is the concessions offered to these institutions under the Land Ceiling act. A major portion of the real estate in Rishikesh and the surrounding areas is owned by the ashrams or the presiding high priests of the temples.
The Kali Kamli trust alone owns large orchards in Rishikesh and Kurukshetra covering a total area of approximately 1,000 acres. The farm produce is mainly commercial crops like sugar-cane, oilseeds, wheat and fruits, all ostensibly meant for religious purposes. The trust also owns shops, hotels and eating places in the town.
Pay-offs
Other allegations include payoffs to police officials and local judicial officers to ensure that the status quo is not disturbed. According to one estimate, 90 per cent of the religious centres in Rishikesh allegedly indulge in large scale bribery of the local law enforcement agencies.
The situation is not common to Rishikesh alone. Almost every single religious centre in the country has succumbed to the earthly temptation of instant fortune and fame, however dubious the fame might be. "Let the Government keep the Yogi's helicopter. We got it for free. We are not going to pay the 200 per cent duty required to release it", said Mahesh Yogi's spokesman in Rishikesh. It is also an indication that, to misquote a famous song, the saints have gone marching out, and the sinners have marched in.
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Re: Freda Bedi Cont'd (#2)
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Sonam Topgyal Kazi (Tibetan writer and translator)
by Wikipedia (translated from French)
Accessed: 6/9/20
Sonam Topgyal Kazi alongside Bakula Rinpoche and the Dalai Lama in 1957
Biography
Birth: January 1, 1925
Death: June 13, 2009 (at 84)
Activity: Writer
Summary
Sonam Topgyal Kazi, or Sonam T. Kazi or Sonam Topgay Kazi ( Tibetan : བསོད་ ནམས་ སྟོབས་ རྒྱལ་ ཀ་ ཛི, Wylie: bsod nams stobs rgyal ka dzi ), born in Rhenock (en) in Sikkim on January 1, 1925 and died in Saugerties, New York [ 1 ] June 13, 2009, is a writer and translator from the Tibetan born in Sikkim. A specialist in Dzogchen, he has translated many works.
Biography
Born in Sikkim in 1925, he was the 5th son of Relon Sonam Dadul Renock Kazi, an official in the government of Sikkim. During his childhood, his father, who twice met the 13th Dalai Lama, shared with him his knowledge about Tibet, arousing his interest in Tibetan Buddhism.
The young boy is a student of the Scottish Universities Mission Institution in Kalimpong and Saint-Etienne College in Delhi [2].
At the end of his studies in 1948, the government of Sikkim appointed him interpreter and guide during the first pilgrimage visit to India of the 16th karmapa [1].
When a position becomes available in Tibet, he becomes a candidate and becomes an interpreter and translator with the Indian mission in Tibet between January 1949 and October 1955 [3], [4].
In 1956, with the Indian diplomat Apa Pant and the crown prince of Sikkim Palden Thondup Namgyal, he received, on the Indian side of Nathu La, the 14th Dalai Lama when he went to India on the occasion of the 2,500th anniversary. of the birth of Siddhartha Gautama Buddha, of November 1956 at February 1957 [5].
Sonam Togpyal Kazi visited Tibet in 1957-58 as a member of an Indian delegation to consider a visit by Indian Prime Minister Nehru, which took place in october 1958 [6].
Sonam Togpyal Kazi was sent by the government of India to welcome the 14th Dalai Lama when he arrived in exile in India in 1959. He was the main interpreter of the Dalai Lama for 13 years, until 1972 [7].
He helps David Armine Howarth in the translation into English of the first autobiography of the Dalai Lama, My land and my people [8] published in 1962.
In 1965, he was director of the Tibet House in India, and wrote the Wisdom and Compassion catalog of Tibetan art exhibitions in New Delhi [9].
He welcomed Thomas Merton when he visited the Dalai Lama in Dharamsala in 1968 [7].
Sonam Kazi supervised certain aspects of the editing of Arnaud Desjardins ' films on Tibetan masters, and it was for this reason that he went to France in 1968 [10].
According to Havnevik Hanna, quoting Arnaud Desjardins, the daughter of Sonam Togpyal Kazi, Jetsun Péma, was recognized by the 14th Dalai Lama and the 16th Karmapa as the reincarnation of Jetsun Lochen Rinpoche (Lochen Chönyi Zangmo) who was a teacher of Sonam Topgyal Kazi and his wife [11].
He declared in his writings that Tibet was a peaceful and independent country [12], in particular in a report of his experience in Tibet before the Chinese invasion published in 1994 and quoted by Melvyn C. Goldstein [13], [14]. This important testimony for Tibetans was published in 1994 in Tibetan Bulletin [14].
Works
• 1993 Kun-Zang La-May Zhal-Lung: The Oral Instruction of Kun-Zang La-Ma on the Preliminary Practices of Dzog-Ch'En Long-Ch'En Nying-Tig (Nga-Gyur Nying-Ma ), Volumes 2 à 3, Sonam T. Kazi translation, Diamond Lotus Pub, 1989.
• 1981 Encyclopedia Tibetica: the collected works of Bo-doń Paṇ-chen Phyogs-las-rnam-rgyal, (Bodong Chögle Namgyel) Volume 1, Ed. Tibet House
• 1975 The collected works of Kun-mkhyen, Jigme Lingpa
• 1977 bKe'vielm. bKa 'brgyad bde gshegs' dus pa'ichos skor, Nyangrel Nyima Özer
• 1969 The Redaction of Rdzogs-chen Rgyal-sras Gzhan-phan-mtha'-yas Volume 3 Gyalse Shenpen Thaye
• 1969 Rang grol skor gsum and Byang chub kyi sems kun byed rgyal po'i don khrid rin chen gru bo: sources for the understanding of Rdzogs-chen meditation Longchenpa
• 1970 The visionary and mystic poetry of Khams-smyon dharma-sengge (Khams-smyon dharma-sengge or Karma Jigme Chokyi Singye)
• 1971 Mi-pham on the Kālacakra tantra: a reproduction of the two volumes from the collected works of 'Jam-mgon' Ju Mi-pham-rgya-mtsho dealing with the cycle of the Wheel of time, Jamgon Ju Mipham Gyatso
Notes and references
1.Sonam T. Kazi (1925-2009), Diamond Lotus Foundation
2. Thomas Merton, The Asian Journal of Thomas Merton, New Directions Publishing, 1975, (ISBN 0811205703 and 9780811205702), p. 172.
3. Statement by Westerners who visited Tibet before 1949, September 13, 1994.
4. A brief account of Mr. Sonam T. Kazi's experience in Tibet before the Chinese Invasion, September 13, 1994.
5. Tenzin Gyatso, Au loin la liberté, Fayard, 1990 (ISBN2213025614), pages 166-167.
6. India's Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru accompanied by his daughter Indira Gandhi trek North to visit Tibet.
7. Bhuchung K. Tsering, Sonam T. Kazi, Aide to the Dalai Lama, Passes Away, July 1, 2009.
8. Turrell Wylie, My Land and My People, The Journal of Asian Studies, Volume 22 / Issue 02, February 1963, p 220
9. (in) Jeffrey Hopkins, Tibetan Monastic Colleges: Rationality versus the Demands of Allegiance, in Imagining Tibet: Perceptions, Projections, and Fantasies, edited by Thierry Dodin, Heinz Räther, Heinz Rather, p. 247
10. Claude Arpi, The Message from the Tibetan Rinpoche, Interview with Arnaud Desjardins.
11. Havnevik Hanna, Fighting of the Tibetan Nuns, 1995, Ed. Dharma, (ISBN 2-86487-025-8).
12. Jamyang Norbu, A Losar Gift For Rangzen Activists, Phayul.com, February 26, 2009
13. Melvyn C. Goldstein, A History of Modern Tibet, Vol. 2: The Calm Before the Storm: 1951-1955, University of California Press, 2007 ( ISBN 0520249410 and 978-0520249417), p. 47
14. Robert Barnett, Violated Specialness: Western Political Representations of Tibet, in Dodin and Räther, Imagining Tibet, p. 310
External Links
• Authority records:
• Virtual international authority file
• International Standard Name Identifier
• National Library of France ( data )
• University documentation system
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• WorldCat
by Wikipedia (translated from French)
Accessed: 6/9/20
Sikkimese linguist Sonam T. Kazi quietly passed away last month, reportedly from complications associated with Alzheimer's (although I have been unable to confirm this). He was a long-time political operative, who once served as the Dalai Lama's interpreter on behalf of the Government of India. His avocation was scholastic study of Dzogchen, and in this he became rather celebrated.
In the 1960s, a contractual relationship as a linguist with the U.S. government enabled Mr. Kazi to relocate to the United States. After traveling around a bit, he settled with his wife and daughter in New York City, and when his government contract dissolved, established himself as something of a teacher. Throughout the late 1960s and into the 1970s, he became known for taking on students who had been deemed unsuitable by lineage-holding masters, and developed a small following which regularly met in his apartment on the West Side, overlooking Central Park.
Some considerable controversy visited Kazi after a succession of female students accused him of pressuring them into sexual assignations. Amid allegations that he had infected a student with a sexually transmitted disease, his marriage faltered, and his wife and daughter took up separate residence elsewhere....
Reader Comment:"With that in mind, I hope the late Mr. Kazi will be remembered with equanimity (if not necessarily admiration) for the good things he accomplished."
Yes, let us forget that he coerced women, even married women, who trusted him with their spiritual well-being, to have sex with him, giving them STD's, terrorizing them with threats of hell for "samaya breakage" if they refuse. But hey, since he REALLY worshiped his guru, there's a place for him in heaven anyway! lets praise a man that reverted to the guru business when his other gigs failed. all hail the snake-oil salesmen of the world. gotta love religion. -- love, an ex-sycophantic follower of the Kazi family, professional parasites.
-- Sonam Topgay Kazi, 1925-2009, by Digital Tibetan Buddhist Altar
Sonam Topgyal Kazi alongside Bakula Rinpoche and the Dalai Lama in 1957
Biography
Birth: January 1, 1925
Death: June 13, 2009 (at 84)
Activity: Writer
Summary
Sonam Topgyal Kazi, or Sonam T. Kazi or Sonam Topgay Kazi ( Tibetan : བསོད་ ནམས་ སྟོབས་ རྒྱལ་ ཀ་ ཛི, Wylie: bsod nams stobs rgyal ka dzi ), born in Rhenock (en) in Sikkim on January 1, 1925 and died in Saugerties, New York [ 1 ] June 13, 2009, is a writer and translator from the Tibetan born in Sikkim. A specialist in Dzogchen, he has translated many works.
Biography
Born in Sikkim in 1925, he was the 5th son of Relon Sonam Dadul Renock Kazi, an official in the government of Sikkim. During his childhood, his father, who twice met the 13th Dalai Lama, shared with him his knowledge about Tibet, arousing his interest in Tibetan Buddhism.
The young boy is a student of the Scottish Universities Mission Institution in Kalimpong and Saint-Etienne College in Delhi [2].
At the end of his studies in 1948, the government of Sikkim appointed him interpreter and guide during the first pilgrimage visit to India of the 16th karmapa [1].
When a position becomes available in Tibet, he becomes a candidate and becomes an interpreter and translator with the Indian mission in Tibet between January 1949 and October 1955 [3], [4].
In 1956, with the Indian diplomat Apa Pant and the crown prince of Sikkim Palden Thondup Namgyal, he received, on the Indian side of Nathu La, the 14th Dalai Lama when he went to India on the occasion of the 2,500th anniversary. of the birth of Siddhartha Gautama Buddha, of November 1956 at February 1957 [5].
Sonam Togpyal Kazi visited Tibet in 1957-58 as a member of an Indian delegation to consider a visit by Indian Prime Minister Nehru, which took place in october 1958 [6].
Sonam Togpyal Kazi was sent by the government of India to welcome the 14th Dalai Lama when he arrived in exile in India in 1959. He was the main interpreter of the Dalai Lama for 13 years, until 1972 [7].
He helps David Armine Howarth in the translation into English of the first autobiography of the Dalai Lama, My land and my people [8] published in 1962.
In 1965, he was director of the Tibet House in India, and wrote the Wisdom and Compassion catalog of Tibetan art exhibitions in New Delhi [9].
He welcomed Thomas Merton when he visited the Dalai Lama in Dharamsala in 1968 [7].
Sonam Kazi supervised certain aspects of the editing of Arnaud Desjardins ' films on Tibetan masters, and it was for this reason that he went to France in 1968 [10].
According to Havnevik Hanna, quoting Arnaud Desjardins, the daughter of Sonam Togpyal Kazi, Jetsun Péma, was recognized by the 14th Dalai Lama and the 16th Karmapa as the reincarnation of Jetsun Lochen Rinpoche (Lochen Chönyi Zangmo) who was a teacher of Sonam Topgyal Kazi and his wife [11].
He declared in his writings that Tibet was a peaceful and independent country [12], in particular in a report of his experience in Tibet before the Chinese invasion published in 1994 and quoted by Melvyn C. Goldstein [13], [14]. This important testimony for Tibetans was published in 1994 in Tibetan Bulletin [14].
Works
• 1993 Kun-Zang La-May Zhal-Lung: The Oral Instruction of Kun-Zang La-Ma on the Preliminary Practices of Dzog-Ch'En Long-Ch'En Nying-Tig (Nga-Gyur Nying-Ma ), Volumes 2 à 3, Sonam T. Kazi translation, Diamond Lotus Pub, 1989.
• 1981 Encyclopedia Tibetica: the collected works of Bo-doń Paṇ-chen Phyogs-las-rnam-rgyal, (Bodong Chögle Namgyel) Volume 1, Ed. Tibet House
• 1975 The collected works of Kun-mkhyen, Jigme Lingpa
• 1977 bKe'vielm. bKa 'brgyad bde gshegs' dus pa'ichos skor, Nyangrel Nyima Özer
• 1969 The Redaction of Rdzogs-chen Rgyal-sras Gzhan-phan-mtha'-yas Volume 3 Gyalse Shenpen Thaye
• 1969 Rang grol skor gsum and Byang chub kyi sems kun byed rgyal po'i don khrid rin chen gru bo: sources for the understanding of Rdzogs-chen meditation Longchenpa
• 1970 The visionary and mystic poetry of Khams-smyon dharma-sengge (Khams-smyon dharma-sengge or Karma Jigme Chokyi Singye)
• 1971 Mi-pham on the Kālacakra tantra: a reproduction of the two volumes from the collected works of 'Jam-mgon' Ju Mi-pham-rgya-mtsho dealing with the cycle of the Wheel of time, Jamgon Ju Mipham Gyatso
Notes and references
1.Sonam T. Kazi (1925-2009), Diamond Lotus Foundation
2. Thomas Merton, The Asian Journal of Thomas Merton, New Directions Publishing, 1975, (ISBN 0811205703 and 9780811205702), p. 172.
3. Statement by Westerners who visited Tibet before 1949, September 13, 1994.
4. A brief account of Mr. Sonam T. Kazi's experience in Tibet before the Chinese Invasion, September 13, 1994.
5. Tenzin Gyatso, Au loin la liberté, Fayard, 1990 (ISBN2213025614), pages 166-167.
6. India's Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru accompanied by his daughter Indira Gandhi trek North to visit Tibet.
7. Bhuchung K. Tsering, Sonam T. Kazi, Aide to the Dalai Lama, Passes Away, July 1, 2009.
8. Turrell Wylie, My Land and My People, The Journal of Asian Studies, Volume 22 / Issue 02, February 1963, p 220
9. (in) Jeffrey Hopkins, Tibetan Monastic Colleges: Rationality versus the Demands of Allegiance, in Imagining Tibet: Perceptions, Projections, and Fantasies, edited by Thierry Dodin, Heinz Räther, Heinz Rather, p. 247
10. Claude Arpi, The Message from the Tibetan Rinpoche, Interview with Arnaud Desjardins.
11. Havnevik Hanna, Fighting of the Tibetan Nuns, 1995, Ed. Dharma, (ISBN 2-86487-025-8).
12. Jamyang Norbu, A Losar Gift For Rangzen Activists, Phayul.com, February 26, 2009
13. Melvyn C. Goldstein, A History of Modern Tibet, Vol. 2: The Calm Before the Storm: 1951-1955, University of California Press, 2007 ( ISBN 0520249410 and 978-0520249417), p. 47
14. Robert Barnett, Violated Specialness: Western Political Representations of Tibet, in Dodin and Räther, Imagining Tibet, p. 310
External Links
• Authority records:
• Virtual international authority file
• International Standard Name Identifier
• National Library of France ( data )
• University documentation system
• Library of Congress
• Royal Netherlands Library
• WorldCat
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- Site Admin
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Re: Freda Bedi Cont'd (#2)
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Nancy Cooke de Herrera [Nancy Louise Veitch]
by Wikipedia
Accessed: 6/9/20
Nancy Cooke de Herrera
Born: Nancy L. Veitch, April 12, 1922[1][2], Alameda County, California[1] [daughter of Edward Irving Veitch and Marie Beatrice Morledge]
Died: February 28, 2013 (aged 90), Beverly Hills, California[3]
Occupation: Socialite author
Spouse(s): Richard [Alexander] Cooke, [Jr.] (1941), Luis de Herrera (1951), Tony Jackson [Morton Barrows Jackson] (1962)
Children: One daughter, three sons
Nancy Cooke de Herrera (born Nancy Veitch, 1922–2013)[2] was an American socialite, fashion expert, and author of three books, including All You Need Is Love: An Eyewitness Account of When Spirituality Spread from the East to the West.[4][5] She was referred to as one of the pioneers of the spiritual movement in the West.
Early life and education
De Herrera grew up in Piedmont, California and studied bacteriology at Stanford University for three years during the 1940s (Class of '43).[6][7]
Adult life
De Herrera traveled to Molokai in Hawaii via a military convoy...
and married Richard [Alexander] Cooke, Jr., the son of a well-known missionary family in 1941.[7][8]
As the wife of a prominent family member, she performed hostess duties for Admiral Nimitz, Admiral Halsey, and Admiral Towers during World War II. She gave birth to three sons and divorced her husband after nine years of marriage.
While in Paris in 1951, she met a member of the American team that raced at Le Mans, named Luis de Herrera, whom she married a year later. The couple moved to Herrera's home country of Argentina and had a daughter in 1954.[7] Nine months later her husband, Luis, died of leukemia which Cooke de Herrera believed was related to atomic radiation exposure he incurred while driving near Zion National Park after an atomic bomb test in 1953.[4][6][7][9]
In 1957, de Herrera won a nationwide contest sponsored by a group of American (USA) magazines. Her prize was a world tour to promote American fashion. Afterwards, the United States Information Service (USIS) enabled her to visit governments around the world and advise them on fashion.[10] For twelve years she was a leading figure in the fashion industry and was referred to as the "U.S. Ambassadress of Fashion" while traveling to 15 countries to present American couture.[4][6][9] She also presented lectures entitled: "A Travelogue through Fashion" and "Around the World with Nancy Cooke".[11]
De Herrera worked as a publicist for Maharishi Mahesh Yogi in the 1960s and traveled with him on a trip to South America.[7][12] She was the liaison for the Maharishi and The Beatles during their widely publicized visit to Rishikesh in India.[6] During her dozens of trips to India and Tibet she is reported to have had meetings with the Dalai Lama, the sixteenth Gyalwa Karmapa, Sir Edmund Hillary, the Shah of Iran, King Hussein of Jordan, and Satya Sai Baba.[6] In 1993, she published the autobiographical memoir, Beyond Gurus: A Woman Of Many Worlds, and in 2003, published a follow-up book called, All You Need Is Love: An Eyewitness Account of When Spirituality Spread from the East to the West.[4]
Over the years she is reported to have given meditation lessons to several celebrities, including Madonna, Greta Garbo, Rosie O'Donnell, Lenny Kravitz, Santigold,[13] and Sheryl Crow.[6][9] She has been called one of the pioneers of the spiritual movement in the West.[14] In 2008, she published the novel, Never Tango with a Stranger: Love in Peron's Argentina.[15] According to de Herrera, with the help of some friends, she built two hospitals for abused children in Los Angeles.[10]
She was reportedly working on a third autobiography, concerning her role as the U.S. Ambassadress of Fashion in the 1950s when she died[12] on February 28, 2013 at the age of 90.[12]
De Herrera and her son Richard Cooke [Richard Cooke III, "Rik"] were the subject of the Beatles' satirical song "The Continuing Story of Bungalow Bill".[16]
Books
• Cooke de Herrera, Nancy (1993) Beyond gurus : a woman of many worlds, Blue Dolphin Pub.[15]
• Cooke de Herrera, Nancy (2003) All you need is love : an eyewitness account of when spirituality spread from the East to the West, Jodere Group [15]
• Cooke de Herrera, Nancy (2008) Never Tango with a Stranger: Love in Peron's Argentina, iUniverse[15]
References
1. California Birth Index, 1905-1995
2. "Meditation teacher Nancy Cooke de Herrera dies". NewsObserver.com. March 4, 2013.[permanent dead link]
3. Los Angeles Times Obituary, 8 Mar 2013
4. All You Need Is Love: An Eyewitness Account of When Spirituality Spread from the East to the West Archived2011-04-06 at the Wayback Machine All Spirit Fitness, book review, 2003.
5. Cae, Herb. (Aug 31, 1961). Los Angeles Times, "Official State Song Slips Disc: Nancy Cooke de Herrera the beautiful blond socialite".
6. Jalonen, Wendy (May–June 2010), "TM believer", Stanford Magazine (Stanford Alumni website), archived from the original on 2012-06-25, retrieved 2011-04-03
7. Cooke de Herrera, Nancy (1993) Blue Dolphin Publishing, Beyond Gurus: A Woman of Many Worlds, pp27-44
8. Cassidy, Maggie July 29, 2011 A Most Unusual Life, Molokai Dispatch
9. Cassidy, Maggie July 29, 2011 A Most Unusual Life, Molakai Dispatch
10. Misra, Neelesh (Dec 1, 1995) U.S. Author Says That India Still Draws Her, India Abroad
11. Unknown author (2005) Writers Directory 2005, Nancy Cooke de Herrera
12. Baida, Aiyana (March 5, 2013). "Celebrity Meditation Teacher". VOXXI. Archived from the original on May 13, 2013. Retrieved March 26, 2013.
13. Author unknown (April 22, 2012) Santigold NME Music News, retrieved April 30, 2012
14. Author Unknown ALL YOU NEED IS LOVE Archived 2011-04-06 at the Wayback Machine Planet Light Worker web site, Book Review. Retrieved: April 3, 2011
15. Nancy Cooke de Herrera World Cat, retrieved April 30, 2012
16. https://www.quora.com/Who-is-Bungalow-B ... nnington-1
***************************************************
Obituary: Nancy Cooke de Herrera
Nancy Cooke de Herrera April 12, 1922 - February 28, 2013. She was a Piedmont High School alum.
by Analisa Harangozo, Patch Staff
Mar 7, 2013 4:48 pm PT | Updated Mar 7, 2013 9:51 pm PT
by Brett Cooke
Nancy Cooke de Herrera, an inveterate traveler, began her next journey February 28, 2013, with her children present in Beverly Hills to offer a peaceful farewell. She enjoyed a life sufficiently full to require three autobiographies: All You Need Is Love: An Eyewitness Account of When Spirituality Spread from the East to the West, 2003), Never Tango with a Stranger: Love in Peron's Argentina (2008), and Around the World with Nancy Cooke (in preparation).
Born in Oakland, April 12, 1922, the daughter of Edward Irving Veitch and Marie Beatrice Morledge,...
Nancy attended Piedmont High School with her lookalike sisters, Ardagh Marie Kistler and Doryce Lorillard Hills Wells, then Stanford University.
In 1942 she married Richard Alexander Cooke, Jr., with whom she raised three sons, Richard Alexander Cooke III, Starr Edward Cooke, and Leighton Brett Cooke, while living in Hawaii. They were divorced in 1951.
Subsequently Nancy married Luis Alberto de Herrera and moved to Buenos Aires, where they bore a daughter, Maria Luisa de Herrera. After Luis' untimely death in 1955, she founded a public relations firm in San Francisco.
Selected in 1956 as the US Ambassadress of Fashion, she travelled the major capitals of the world on tours organized by the United States Information Agency. Later, at the invitation of the Kremlin, Nancy led a delegation of San Francisco businesswomen to the USSR. She toured the United States, lecturing on the fashions and cultures of the world.
In 1962, Nancy visited many of the holy men of India, an experience that changed her life. Upon her return to California she married Morton Barrows Jackson...
(whom she divorced in 1975) and moved to Los Angeles, where she was one of the first American students of Maharishi Mahesh Yogi's Transcendental Meditation. She introduced TM to much of the Americas.
In 1968 she studied in India's Valley of the Saints and became an independent teacher of meditation. Among her classmates were the Beatles, who immortalized her and her son Rik in "The Continuing Story of Bungalow Bill." These were the first of 40 trips to India, a country she loved.
Nancy taught TM to the end of her life. Hundreds of students, many notables of film and music, visited her house in Beverly Hills for instruction. Readers were moved by the account of her Indian "spiritual journey in self discovery" (Dominick Dunne).
Nancy was a fully supportive mother; she encouraged her children them to develop unique lifestyles. She provided a home to many friends, who spanned the world; she had an address book for each continent. Long active with the Colleagues, one of Southern California's most prominent charities, Nancy was a major supporter of Molokai's Hui Ho'olana educational center, where a building has been erected in her name.
Nancy is survived by her four children and two sisters, and two brothers-in-law, Herbert Gray Hills, Jr. and Henry Blackmer Kistler, as well as four grandchildren and three great grandchildren, and numerous nieces and nephews. Her ashes will be deposited in Buenos Aires, Molokai, and Piedmont, California.
In lieu of sending flowers, Nancy's family suggests that memorials be made to Hui Ho'olana (PO Box 280, Kualapuu, HI 96757; http://huiho.org/contact.php).
***************************************************
This is the official obituary about Mom, Nancy Cooke de Herrera that will be released to the press. She was such a source of so much support especially in our creating the Hui.The new Peace Pavilion will be dedicated to her.
Nancy Cooke de Herrera, an inveterate traveler, began her next journey February 28, 2013 in Beverly Hills, with her children present to offer a peaceful farewell. She enjoyed a life sufficiently full to require three autobiographies: Beyond Gurus (1993, republished as All You Need Is Love: An Eyewitness Account of When Spirituality Spread from the East to the West, 2003), Never Tango with a Stranger: Love in Peron’s Argentina (2008), and "Around the World with Nancy Cooke" (in preparation). Her friends spanned the world; she had an address book for each continent. All this is evidence of the incredible gift she possessed that enabled her to connect so quickly with so many.
Born in Oakland, April 12, 1922, the daughter of Edward Irving Veitch and Marie Beatrice Morledge, Nancy attended Piedmont High School with her lookalike sisters, Ardagh Marie Kistler and Doryce Lorillard Hills Wells, then Stanford University. In 1942 she married Richard Alexander Cooke, Jr., with whom she raised three sons, Richard Alexander Cooke III, Starr Edward Cooke, and Leighton Brett Cooke, while living in Hawaii. They were divorced in 1951. Subsequently Nancy married Luis Alberto de Herrera and moved to Buenos Aires, where they bore a daughter, Maria Luisa de Herrera. She returned to California in 1955 after Luis’ untimely death and founded a public relations firm in San Francisco with Dorothy McKenzie. elected in 1956 to represent her country as the US Ambassadress of Fashion, she travelled the major capitals of the world on tours organized by the United States Information Agency. She visited the countries bearing gifts, haute couture outfits designed by the leading fashion designers of the day, and staged fashion shows in fifteen hosting countries such as Argentina, England, France, Germany, Iran, Italy, and others. In turn, these countries gave her evening gowns or other designer outfits to be presented in a fashion show for a charity fundraiser for UNICEF. Later, at the invitation of the Kremlin, she led a delegation of San Francisco businesswomen to the USSR. She subsequently toured the United States, lecturing on the fashions and cultures of the world.
In 1962, Nancy visited many of the holy men of India, including Lama Anagarika Govinda, Swami Sivananda and the Dalai Lama, an experience that changed her life. Upon her return to California she married Morton Barrows Jackson(whom she divorced in 1975) and moved to Los Angeles, where she became one of the first American students of Maharishi Mahesh Yogi’s Transcendental Meditation. She introduced Maharishi to much of the United States and to many of the countries of Latin America. In 1968 she studied meditation at Maharishi’s ashram in India’s Valley of the Saints and became a teacher of meditation. Among her classmates were Donovan, Mia Farrow, Mike Love (of the Beach Boys), and the Beatles, who immortalized her son Rik in “The Continuing Story of Bungalow Bill.” These were the first of 40 trips to India, a country she greatly loved and whose leaders she knew well.
Although Nancy later took more courses in meditation in Switzerland with Maharishi, she became an independent teacher of TM, a role she pursued to the end of her life. Hundreds of students, many of them notables of film and the music world, visited her house in Beverly Hills to be instructed in this practice. Readers were moved by the account of her Indian “spiritual journey in self discovery” (Dominick Dunne).
Nancy all the while was a fully supportive mother of her four children, encouraging them to develop unique lifestyles. And she provided the same and a home to many friends. It was rare for her to not have a visitor staying in her house. She long was an active member of the Colleagues, one of Southern California’s most prominent charities. A frequent visitor to Molokai, Nancy was a major supporter of the Hui Ho’olana educational center.
Nancy or Nanaji, as she was known to her family, is survived by her four children, a stepson, Miguel Patricio de Herrera, and two sisters, as well as three daughters-in-law, Bronwyn Ann Cooke, Joan Reinau Cooke, and Olga Muller Cooke, and two brothers-in-law, Herbert Gray Hills, Jr. and Henry Blackmer Kistler, and one grandson-in-law, Kelly Nicholas Markgraf. She enjoyed her four grandchildren, Caroline Cooke Cage, Sasha Cooke Markgraf, Sonya Brett Cooke, and Nicholas Starr Cooke and three great grandchildren, Richard Presnall Cage, Campbell Starr Cage, and Evelyn Helena Markgraf. Her ashes will be deposited in Buenos Aires, Molokai, and Piedmont, California.
She will be sorely missed by all her family and friends, who will cherish the many stories she told about her adventures. Her larger than life presence will persist.
In lieu of sending flowers, Nancy’s family suggests that memorials be made to Hui Ho’olana (PO Box 280, Kualapuu, HI 96757; (808) 646-0034; http://huiho.org/contact.php), where a building has been erected in her name.
by Wikipedia
Accessed: 6/9/20
In 1970, Shankar Bajpai wrote, suggesting we visit him in Gangtok, Sikkim. He had been the Indian Consul General in San Francisco in the '60s, and we'd met through B.K. Nehru. Now he was the Political Officer of Sikkim, which meant he ran the place, as India provided the small mountain country with its foreign policy, currency, and military presence... His letter was provocative, "Two hours from Gangtok there is an exotic monastery in Rumtek. The top boy is a very important Tibetan Lama. Rik will get dramatic pictures and you can have the thrill of knowing another saint."
He loved to kid me about my holy friends.
We decided to do it and put a group of friends together. Taking people to India was turning out to be a new hobby for me. Shankar and his wife, Meera, were delighted. He wrote again, "Before you leave Darjeeling, call me. It's always a frightful bore at the border. Just to be on the safe side, I'll have my men waiting for you. And by the way, do you suppose you could bring me about 12 pounds of fresh pork? If so, we'll have an authentic Tibetan dinner for you."...
As we approached the official residence, we saw the Bajpais sitting in lawn furniture in front of the government house, having tea. Shankar's round face broke into a wide smile as he welcomed us to Gangtok in his flawless English. Light reflected off his baldpate; he looked like a Buddha in his warm, monk-like robe. Meera had a woolen shawl around her sari. The mountain air was cool.
"Come join us. I'm sure you're all ready for a good hot cup of tea."...
Starting out for Rumtek monastery, we were bundled in our coats as we bounced along in our Land Rovers. An hour later, coats were discarded. It had become a lovely, sunny day in the mountains. There was no way to alert the monks that we were coming; we'd just arrive, all 18 of us....
There was the monastery-bright red, glistening in the sun. On both sides were rows of prayer flag trees, similar to those I'd seen at Govinda's in Almora on my first visit to India. Behind the monastery, providing a silent frame, were more mountains. My friends were filled with excitement; none had been to a Tibetan monastery.
As we drove to the entrance, the round wooden door, divided in the middle, stood open in welcome. Three burgundy-robed monks stood by to receive us. A high-cheek-boned Tibetan introduced himself.
"My name is Tashi. We are most happy to welcome you. It is very auspicious. You have arrived just in time for the Black Hat Ceremony. This event takes place once a month at the time of the full moon." We thought it a coincidence; the monks thought otherwise....
We were led up a worn and uneven wooden staircase to a spacious, high-ceilinged room at the top of the monastery. Both ends of the room were opened to the temple below. We had no sooner seated ourselves on the floor than the ceremony began. We had arrived at curtain time.
Darkly clad monks slowly paraded in with long copper horns, at least eight feet in length. Standing to the side of a high, throne-like chair and platform, they blew long, discordant, sonorous notes. Soon another group arrived, escorting to the seat of honor a stocky young man, who wore a high-peaked, brocaded lama's hat. Adjusting his heavy, gold-embroidered cape, he beamed happiness down upon us. He nodded his head to the monks to proceed....
An elaborate brocade box was carried in with much fanfare and presented to the God-King. After opening the box and putting the stiff, black, onion-shaped hat on his head, the Karmapa, with one hand holding the hat in place, closed his eyes in meditation. It was signaled that we follow suit. With my eyes shut I thought to myself, a God-King-how impressive for my friends. Shankar doesn't know this. How lucky we are to be here! Later, as we were each introduced to His Holiness, we presented white prayer scarves, khatas, which Shankar had advised us to take along....
After the Karmapa left, Tashi asked us, "Would you like to meet our sister?" We, of course, said yes and followed him along an outside ledge to a corner room. It was a breathtaking view as we looked down into the valley over the winding road we had followed. All we could see were brown mountains in every directions.
"You must come back again later, when the mountains are green." Following Tashi through a narrow frame door, I stepped into a small hall; to the left a larger room opened out. As I entered, I gasped in surprise. On a low platform sat an English woman in monk's robes. She appeared to be in her sixties and her large, pale blue eyes looked enormous because of her shaved head.
"Come in, I am Sister Palmo. It is a joy to welcome you."...
"What good fortune, coming here on this particular day. It was not accidental; every movement of even a grain of sand is planned." She gently explained some of the basic Buddhist beliefs and traditions to us.....
While the group had tea in another room and ate the picnic sandwiches we'd brought, we made our plans with the English nun.
"Yes, yes, do come back. I knew you would want to. We are meant to become friends. If you would be so kind as to bring me a few things from the Gangtok marketplace, I would be so happy. Then you can have lunch here with me."...
That evening, we celebrated with a Tibetan dinner. The table was heaped with all sorts of succulent, hotly spiced vegetable and pork dishes. The Bajpais had outdone themselves, and they seemed proud of us as a group. We came from Argentina, Washington D.C., New York, Beverly Hills, Honolulu, and Hamburg. Included were top social names, a former U.S. Ambassador, a famous choreographer (Tony Duquette), the head of the Beverly Hills Testavant Chevalier (elite gourmet Society) and a woman astrologer, the grandniece of the legendary flying ace of World War II, Baron Manfred Von Richthofen (the Red Baron). Yes, we were an interesting assortment. We, in turn, were honored to meet the Chogyal with his American wife, Hope Cooke, and the General who had accompanied the Dalai Lama on his escape from Lhasa....
Our group left us early the next morning. Shortly afterward, I initiated Meera Bajpai into TM....
By 8 A.M., the marketplace was open. Vegetables, eggs, spices, and all sorts of foodstuffs were spread out on canvasses in front of flimsy stalls. We laughed as we watched one owner beat a cow on the head as he tried to retrieve a bunch of carrots from its mouth....
Soon we had our baskets filled with bread (a luxury in Rumtek), tomatoes, butter, cream, and all the requested vegetables and fruits. It was time for our return to the monastery....
It was about 11 A.M. when we drove up to the monastery door, giving us at least eight hours of daylight for a nice long visit.
Anila, Sister Palmo's tiny attendant, took our parcels from us with joy and the quick, silent movements of a bird. Sister Palmo was sitting, as she had been when we left her the day before.
"Good morning, what a treat to get all those lovely foods. Come sit near me. Are you sure you wouldn't like chairs brought in?" We assured her not.
She told us a bit about herself. She had been married to an Indian whom she had met while both were students at Oxford. They had three grown children. Their photos were beautiful.
"This one, my son Kabir Bedi, is a leading cinema star in Bombay. He's gone through a painful divorce, but is coming out of it. My husband was a businessman, but now has become a Hindu holy man and psychic healer. At present, he is touring Italy. We meet occasionally, when I go to see my children, and are good friends."
We asked how she had become a nun. "For years I followed Gandhi. One day I was attending a conference, and while walking with some friends, a voice from within spoke to me. It gave me instructions about what I was to do -- I was to renounce the world of activity and become a nun in a Buddhist monastery."
Her full face glowed as she remembered. "My husband understood. He had felt the tug himself. It was a natural, happy parting, and we now travel different roads to the same destination."...
We felt honored as she shared these intimacies with us. Then, abruptly, she changed the subject. "But tell me more about yourselves. What brought you here? How much do you know about Buddhism?"
I spoke first, "Well, I know that the Vedas inspired Gautama Buddha's 'seek out your own salvation,' but that he rejected the Brahmin's interpretation. Born as an Indian prince, he was horrified by what he saw outside the walls of his princely home. Needing to think, to rationalize the 'whys of creation,' he spent hours under the Bodhi tree contemplating. Occasionally he would slip into 'nothingness.' There he was free, free of worries, desires, and emotions. There he experienced total release. Austerities didn't do it, worship didn't do it; contemplation and meditation did it. It brought about the nothingness -- Nirvana!"
"Very good, that's all correct! Buddhism as explained by our Kagyu lineage also states that meditation, while unmasking our deceptions, helps us to know ourselves in the present situation, to face life, and to accept ourselves. It will bring transcendental common sense."...
She continued, "And from Buddha's illuminations, where he transcended the limitations of individuality, he replaced the idea of the immutable, eternal soul incapable of growth and development, with the conception of a spiritual consciousness yearning for freedom and enlightenment through the continuous process of becoming and dissolving." She spoke slowly and clearly.
"Those are almost Lama Govinda's words," I exclaimed.
"Yes, he will be known to the West as the first interpreter of Tibetan Buddhism into layman's terms. He helps one understand how we must abandon our thought habits in order to know the real nature of the Mind that encompasses both the individual and the Universe."...
"But, Sister Palmo, what we don't understand is this: Gautama Buddha was against gods, priests, worship, and dogma. He advised against building monasteries, as did the sages of the Upanishads, warning that, through the problems arising from household responsibilities and positions, jealousies would be born and infighting would develop between superiors and inferiors. All that was important was pure thought. Yet, when he died, they turned him into a god to worship."
"Not exactly -- he's worshipped as Buddha, the Enlightened One, not as a god."...
"Man feels more secure in clinging to traditions. He needs sets of commentaries, and philosophical principles that he can classify and put down in sacred texts -- man clings to 'things.' He wants to possess and make his knowledge exclusive. Even the Karmapa once admitted to me, 'It took the Red Chinese to force Tibet into sharing its wisdom with the outside world.' That was our bad karma, trying to keep it to ourselves."...
Soon it was time for lunch. Rik and I were hesitant to eat at the monastery, where sanitary conditions were uncertain, so we said we'd had a large breakfast. "Not at all, that was hours ago," insisted the nun. "Anila is cooking our meal in the next room. I have taught her to make crepes."
We couldn't believe it; I watched her cook over a little oil burner in the corner. Everything was spotless. The crepes, when served with cream and honey whipped with butter, were delicious....
"What a treat for me," said Sister Palmo. "Our diet is sparse here. One of the things I miss is toast with my tea. We often go weeks without bread. We raise chickens and goats outside the monastery. So it's an eggs, goat's milk, and grain menu."...
Sister Palmo was interested in hearing about Maharishi and his teachings. "He sounds like a wise man, and from the happiness you both exude, one can see it's working."...
She explained in detail her daily routine, how she counted hundreds of thousands of Aum mani padme hum, a Buddhist mantra, on her rosary-type beads, her mala. She told us about visualization, very important in the practice of Buddhism, and the exaltation one felt when the Buddha was seen sitting on a lotus with the honey of compassion dripping down....
Shortly after lunch, she announced, "Anila has brought a message that His Holiness is ready to receive you."...
The room was bare, but lighted by many windows. On a small divan-like platform sat His Holiness. Without his hat and heavy cape, he looked younger than he had the day before. Now, he wore a simple wine-red robe. He smiled in welcome, indicating we should sit on cushions near him.
Then we had a surprise. A beautiful Indian woman entered the room. It was Goodie Oberoi. Sister Palmo was delighted to find we knew each other, and left us with Goodie to interpret. "How is it that you are here?" I asked. She had been one of the Indian friends I'd brought to Maharishi for initiation while I was attending the 1969 course in Kashmir. She hadn't mentioned the Karmapa to me.
"His Holiness is my treasured teacher now and has helped me more than anyone in the world." I could understand her need of help. Her life with Bikki, son of the hotel tycoon, had to be difficult. Bikki's love of drinking and women were well-known among the social set of India.
"Sister comes to visit us and now we have one of her nuns with us at home. You have no idea, Nancy, what a wonderful change it has brought over the children. I will always love Maharishi," she continued, "but, for me, I need personal contact with my spiritual guide." Her handsome face looked more serene than I had ever seen it....
"This is a most wonderful soul," Goodie explained. "You are fortunate to see him like this and share his darshan. He is revered as a God King by the Sikkimese, Bhutanese, and many Tibetans. He is the Supreme head of the Kagyu Order of Tibetan Buddhism, the embodiment of the power and compassion of Buddhist Tantra. They consider him a higher incarnation than the Dalai Lama. When the Chinese invaded Tibet, India offered the Dalai Lama asylum; likewise the Karmapa, but he came here to Sikkim at the invitation of the Chogyal."
The Karmapa radiated sunshine and he was attentive when we spoke. He appeared to be in his 30s, but I heard later he was almost 50. "He would like to give you a special mantra," Goodie explained. It was an honor we couldn't refuse. We moved close to him. He had been knotting some cords while he spoke and with his expressive hands he now tied both a yellow and red cord around each of our necks. With a small pair of scissors, he cut a lock of hair from our heads.
"It is a great blessing," Goodie explained, "that he would knot the cords and put them around your necks with his own hands. It is unusual, and I'm so happy for you. You have taken refuge in the Buddha with this ceremony."
She wrote down our mantras on a piece of paper, handing it to us with some powder and pills. "Sister Palmo will explain these to you."
The good Sister was overjoyed when she heard what had transpired and clapped her hands. "When you walked into my room today and my thangka of Vajrasattva was exposed, I knew something auspicious would happen. Usually we keep that particular thangka covered."
We told her about the mantras, and she understood our dilemma. "You are right. Stick to what you are doing. But, sometimes on a special full moon, or in a time of danger, you might use them."
She explained the healing qualities of the powder and pills to which I reacted, "Oh, good, I'll take them to my husband." She agreed they might help. (Unfortunately, Tony never saw any apparent effects.)...
Again the day came to an end, far too quickly. Sister Palmo escorted us to the jeep. "We will keep in touch through letters, and one day I will come to see you in the U.S. You will come back to Rumtek. It is written." In fact, the following year she stayed with us in Beverly Hills and made a lasting impression on my family. I felt my children were fortunate to meet such dedicated people....
My encounters with the world of Buddhism started with Lama Govinda, followed by the Dalai Lama, and now continued with the Karmapa. The more I was exposed to their spiritual leaders, the more attracted I became. There was no doubt that I felt a kindred spirit for the Tibetan race. They are bright, outgoing, and friendly in spite of the terrible hardships their people and homeland have suffered; they are optimistic and determined to succeed. Maybe I had been a Tibetan in one of my past lives.
-- Chapter 23. Politicians versus Saints. Excerpt from "All You Need is Love: An Eyewitness Account of When Spirituality Spread from the East to the West", by Nancy Cooke de Herrera
Nancy Cooke de Herrera
Born: Nancy L. Veitch, April 12, 1922[1][2], Alameda County, California[1] [daughter of Edward Irving Veitch and Marie Beatrice Morledge]
Died: February 28, 2013 (aged 90), Beverly Hills, California[3]
Occupation: Socialite author
Spouse(s): Richard [Alexander] Cooke, [Jr.] (1941), Luis de Herrera (1951), Tony Jackson [Morton Barrows Jackson] (1962)
Children: One daughter, three sons
Nancy Cooke de Herrera (born Nancy Veitch, 1922–2013)[2] was an American socialite, fashion expert, and author of three books, including All You Need Is Love: An Eyewitness Account of When Spirituality Spread from the East to the West.[4][5] She was referred to as one of the pioneers of the spiritual movement in the West.
Early life and education
De Herrera grew up in Piedmont, California and studied bacteriology at Stanford University for three years during the 1940s (Class of '43).[6][7]
Adult life
De Herrera traveled to Molokai in Hawaii via a military convoy...
Name: Hawaiian Merchant; USS Euryale (AS-22)
Namesake: Euryale
Builder: Federal Shipbuilding and Drydock Company
Launched: 12 April 1941
Sponsored by: Mrs. Richard A. Cooke
Acquired: purchased by Navy 15 April 1943
Commissioned: 2 December 1943
Decommissioned: 7 October 1946
USS Euryale (AS-22) was built as the Hawaiian Merchant by the Federal Shipbuilding and Drydock Company in Kearny, New Jersey for the Matson Navigation Company. Hawaiian Merchant was launched 12 April 1941, minutes after sister ship Hawaiian Shipper, and was completed April 1941. Matson intended the ship to join Hawaiian Planter and Hawaiian Shipper in the U.S. Pacific Coast—Australia route. The ship was under United States Army Transportation Corps charter when the United States went to war and came under the control of the War Shipping Administration which allocated the ship to the Army's continued charter until the ship was purchased 15 April 1943 by the United States Navy and commissioned 2 December 1943 as USS Euryale (AS-22), serving as a submarine tender through the war. Euryale was decommissioned 7 October 1946, going into reserve until 9 August 1972 when she was delivered to the Maritime Administration with immediate sale to American Ship Dismantler, Inc. for disposal.
-- USS Euryale (AS-22), by Wikipedia
and married Richard [Alexander] Cooke, Jr., the son of a well-known missionary family in 1941.[7][8]
Richard Alexander Cooke, one of the founders of La Pietra Hawaii School for Girls, died Wednesday in San Mateo, Calif. He was 84.
Along with his second wife, Lorraine, he helped found the all-girls school in the early 1960s. Richard Cooke also helped secure the Dillingham Estate for the school's campus on the slopes of Diamond Head.
Cooke worked for C. Brewer & Co. for 27 years before leaving to run for political office and found his own company, Richard Cooke Developments Inc., which later became Richard Cooke Construction and Pole Houses of Hawaii. He also was president of the Cooke Foundation Ltd.
Cooke was the great-grandson of missionary Amos Starr Cooke.
While at Yale University in the 1930s, he qualified for the Olympic swim team. He served in the Navy during World War II.
A world traveler with an artistic bent, Cooke had a life-long interest in sculpting and published a 1964 book on his travels, "Once Around Lightly."
He is survived by his wife, Vivienne; children, Richard III [Richard Cooke III, "Rik"], Starr, Brett, Marcia Duff, Brian Farquharson and Cynthia de Moucheron; and sisters Patricia Peacock and Dagmar Heglund.
A service will be held at 4 p.m. Tuesday at Kawaiahao Church. In lieu of flowers, the family asks donations to La Pietra Hawaii School for Girls, the Moloka'i Community Services Council or Mission Houses Museum.
-- Death of Richard Alexander Cooke, age 84, 13 Jan. 1999; Richard A. Cooke, 84, La Pietra founder, by Advertiser Staff
As the wife of a prominent family member, she performed hostess duties for Admiral Nimitz, Admiral Halsey, and Admiral Towers during World War II. She gave birth to three sons and divorced her husband after nine years of marriage.
While in Paris in 1951, she met a member of the American team that raced at Le Mans, named Luis de Herrera, whom she married a year later. The couple moved to Herrera's home country of Argentina and had a daughter in 1954.[7] Nine months later her husband, Luis, died of leukemia which Cooke de Herrera believed was related to atomic radiation exposure he incurred while driving near Zion National Park after an atomic bomb test in 1953.[4][6][7][9]
In 1957, de Herrera won a nationwide contest sponsored by a group of American (USA) magazines. Her prize was a world tour to promote American fashion. Afterwards, the United States Information Service (USIS) enabled her to visit governments around the world and advise them on fashion.[10] For twelve years she was a leading figure in the fashion industry and was referred to as the "U.S. Ambassadress of Fashion" while traveling to 15 countries to present American couture.[4][6][9] She also presented lectures entitled: "A Travelogue through Fashion" and "Around the World with Nancy Cooke".[11]
De Herrera worked as a publicist for Maharishi Mahesh Yogi in the 1960s and traveled with him on a trip to South America.[7][12] She was the liaison for the Maharishi and The Beatles during their widely publicized visit to Rishikesh in India.[6] During her dozens of trips to India and Tibet she is reported to have had meetings with the Dalai Lama, the sixteenth Gyalwa Karmapa, Sir Edmund Hillary, the Shah of Iran, King Hussein of Jordan, and Satya Sai Baba.[6] In 1993, she published the autobiographical memoir, Beyond Gurus: A Woman Of Many Worlds, and in 2003, published a follow-up book called, All You Need Is Love: An Eyewitness Account of When Spirituality Spread from the East to the West.[4]
Over the years she is reported to have given meditation lessons to several celebrities, including Madonna, Greta Garbo, Rosie O'Donnell, Lenny Kravitz, Santigold,[13] and Sheryl Crow.[6][9] She has been called one of the pioneers of the spiritual movement in the West.[14] In 2008, she published the novel, Never Tango with a Stranger: Love in Peron's Argentina.[15] According to de Herrera, with the help of some friends, she built two hospitals for abused children in Los Angeles.[10]
She was reportedly working on a third autobiography, concerning her role as the U.S. Ambassadress of Fashion in the 1950s when she died[12] on February 28, 2013 at the age of 90.[12]
De Herrera and her son Richard Cooke [Richard Cooke III, "Rik"] were the subject of the Beatles' satirical song "The Continuing Story of Bungalow Bill".[16]
"The Continuing Story of Bungalow Bill" is a song written by John Lennon (credited to Lennon–McCartney), and released by the English rock band the Beatles on their 1968 double album The Beatles (also known as the "White Album")....
This song mocks the actions of a young American named Richard A. Cooke III, known as Rik, who was visiting his mother, Nancy Cooke de Herrera, at the ashram of Maharishi Mahesh Yogi in Rishikesh at the same time that the Beatles were staying with the Maharishi. According to his mother, both she and her son maintained friendly relations with all of the Beatles except for Lennon, who by Cooke de Herrera's account was "a genius" but distant and contemptuous of the wealthy American Cooke de Herrera and her clean-cut, college-attending son. According to Nancy's life account, Beyond Gurus, the genesis of the song occurred when she, Rik, and several others, including guides, set out upon elephants to hunt for a tiger (allegedly presented by their Indian guide as a traditional act). The pack of elephants was attacked by a tiger, which was shot by Rik. Rik was initially proud of his quick reaction and posed for a photograph with his prize. However, Rik's reaction to the slaying was mixed, as he has not hunted since. Nancy claims that all present recognised the necessity of Rik's action, but that Lennon's reaction was scornful and sarcastic, asking Rik: "But wouldn't you call that slightly life-destructive?" The song was written by Lennon as mocking what he saw as Rik's bravado and unenlightened attitude.
Lennon later told his version of the story in a Playboy interview, stating that: "'Bungalow Bill' was written about a guy in Maharishi's meditation camp who took a short break to go shoot a few poor tigers, and then came back to commune with God. There used to be a character called Jungle Jim, and I combined him with Buffalo Bill. It's sort of a teenage social-comment song and a bit of a joke." Mia Farrow, who was also at the ashram during the period, supports Lennon's story in her autobiography; she writes, "Then a self-important, middle-aged American woman arrived, moving a mountain of luggage into the brand-new private bungalow next to Maharishi's along with her son, a bland young man named Bill. People fled this newcomer, and no one was sorry when she left the ashram after a short time to go tiger hunting, unaware that their presence had inspired a new Beatles song – 'Bungalow Bill.'"Hey, Bungalow Bill
What did you kill
Bungalow Bill?
Hey, Bungalow Bill
What did you kill
Bungalow Bill?
He went out hunting with his elephant and gun
In case of accidents he always took his mom
He's the all-American bullet-headed Saxon mother's son
All the children sing
Hey, Bungalow Bill
What did you kill
Bungalow Bill?
Hey, Bungalow Bill
What did you kill
Bungalow Bill?
Deep in the jungle where the mighty tiger lies
Bill and his elephants were taken by surprise
So Captain Marvel zapped him right between the eyes
All the children sing
Hey, Bungalow Bill
What did you kill
Bungalow Bill?
Hey, Bungalow Bill
What did you kill
Bungalow Bill?
The children asked him if to kill was not a sin
"Not when he looked so fierce", his mommy butted in
"If looks could kill, it would have been us instead of him".
All the children sing
Hey, Bungalow Bill
What did you kill
Bungalow Bill?
Hey, Bungalow Bill
What did you kill
Bungalow Bill?...
-- The Continuing Story of Bungalow Bill, by Wikipedia
Books
• Cooke de Herrera, Nancy (1993) Beyond gurus : a woman of many worlds, Blue Dolphin Pub.[15]
• Cooke de Herrera, Nancy (2003) All you need is love : an eyewitness account of when spirituality spread from the East to the West, Jodere Group [15]
• Cooke de Herrera, Nancy (2008) Never Tango with a Stranger: Love in Peron's Argentina, iUniverse[15]
References
1. California Birth Index, 1905-1995
2. "Meditation teacher Nancy Cooke de Herrera dies". NewsObserver.com. March 4, 2013.[permanent dead link]
3. Los Angeles Times Obituary, 8 Mar 2013
4. All You Need Is Love: An Eyewitness Account of When Spirituality Spread from the East to the West Archived2011-04-06 at the Wayback Machine All Spirit Fitness, book review, 2003.
5. Cae, Herb. (Aug 31, 1961). Los Angeles Times, "Official State Song Slips Disc: Nancy Cooke de Herrera the beautiful blond socialite".
6. Jalonen, Wendy (May–June 2010), "TM believer", Stanford Magazine (Stanford Alumni website), archived from the original on 2012-06-25, retrieved 2011-04-03
7. Cooke de Herrera, Nancy (1993) Blue Dolphin Publishing, Beyond Gurus: A Woman of Many Worlds, pp27-44
8. Cassidy, Maggie July 29, 2011 A Most Unusual Life, Molokai Dispatch
9. Cassidy, Maggie July 29, 2011 A Most Unusual Life, Molakai Dispatch
10. Misra, Neelesh (Dec 1, 1995) U.S. Author Says That India Still Draws Her, India Abroad
11. Unknown author (2005) Writers Directory 2005, Nancy Cooke de Herrera
12. Baida, Aiyana (March 5, 2013). "Celebrity Meditation Teacher". VOXXI. Archived from the original on May 13, 2013. Retrieved March 26, 2013.
13. Author unknown (April 22, 2012) Santigold NME Music News, retrieved April 30, 2012
14. Author Unknown ALL YOU NEED IS LOVE Archived 2011-04-06 at the Wayback Machine Planet Light Worker web site, Book Review. Retrieved: April 3, 2011
15. Nancy Cooke de Herrera World Cat, retrieved April 30, 2012
16. https://www.quora.com/Who-is-Bungalow-B ... nnington-1
***************************************************
Obituary: Nancy Cooke de Herrera
Nancy Cooke de Herrera April 12, 1922 - February 28, 2013. She was a Piedmont High School alum.
by Analisa Harangozo, Patch Staff
Mar 7, 2013 4:48 pm PT | Updated Mar 7, 2013 9:51 pm PT
by Brett Cooke
Nancy Cooke de Herrera, an inveterate traveler, began her next journey February 28, 2013, with her children present in Beverly Hills to offer a peaceful farewell. She enjoyed a life sufficiently full to require three autobiographies: All You Need Is Love: An Eyewitness Account of When Spirituality Spread from the East to the West, 2003), Never Tango with a Stranger: Love in Peron's Argentina (2008), and Around the World with Nancy Cooke (in preparation).
Born in Oakland, April 12, 1922, the daughter of Edward Irving Veitch and Marie Beatrice Morledge,...
Registered in 1938 by Edward Irving Veitch, 180 Woodland Way, Piedmont, California, as the 44-ton yacht Hermit, homeported at San Francisco, call sign WOWA. Veitch invented the bobby pins in 1935 and got a patent in 1938. Women who bobbed their hair found it difficult to control the shorter strands with conventional hairpins but Veitch's wavy design held them securely in place. They were made by the Vogue Pin Company in Oakland....
Registered in 1935, by Edward Irving Veitch, 180 Woodland Way, Piedmont, California, as the 67-ton yacht Chiro, homeported at San Francisco.
-- World War II U.S. Navy Vessels in Private Hands: The Boats and Ships Sold and Registered for Commercial and Recreational Purposes Under the American Flag, by Greg H. Williams
Nancy attended Piedmont High School with her lookalike sisters, Ardagh Marie Kistler and Doryce Lorillard Hills Wells, then Stanford University.
In 1942 she married Richard Alexander Cooke, Jr., with whom she raised three sons, Richard Alexander Cooke III, Starr Edward Cooke, and Leighton Brett Cooke, while living in Hawaii. They were divorced in 1951.
Subsequently Nancy married Luis Alberto de Herrera and moved to Buenos Aires, where they bore a daughter, Maria Luisa de Herrera. After Luis' untimely death in 1955, she founded a public relations firm in San Francisco.
Selected in 1956 as the US Ambassadress of Fashion, she travelled the major capitals of the world on tours organized by the United States Information Agency. Later, at the invitation of the Kremlin, Nancy led a delegation of San Francisco businesswomen to the USSR. She toured the United States, lecturing on the fashions and cultures of the world.
In 1962, Nancy visited many of the holy men of India, an experience that changed her life. Upon her return to California she married Morton Barrows Jackson...
To Whom It May Concern:
This is a request under the Freedom of Information Act. I hereby request the following records:
Documents relating to or mentioning Morton Barrows "Tony" Jackson and his contacts and employment with the Agency, including but not limited to those mentioned in https://ia601504.us.archive.org/18/item ... ackson.pdf This includes previous disclosure of his employment by your Agency. His death has been widely and extensively reported. http://articles.latimes.com/1991-12-16/ ... on-jackson
I am a member of the news media and request classification as such. I have previously written featured articles on the Agency, and have a long-term contract to write the Encyclopedia of the OSS. http://andmagazine.com/us/1431865273.html
The requested documents will be made available to the general public, and this request is not being made for commercial purposes.
In the event that there are fees, I would be grateful if you would inform me of the total charges in advance of fulfilling my request. I would prefer the request filled electronically, by e-mail attachment if available or CD-ROM if not.
Thank you in advance for your anticipated cooperation in this matter. I look forward to receiving your response to this request within 20 business days, as the statute requires.
Sincerely,
Michael Best
Time
Luncheon Guests
1:00 p.m.
3 December 1973
888 16th Street, N.W.
The following will be the luncheon guests today:
Hugh Sidey -- Host and Bureau Chief. Always been cordial, friendly and fair as far as I can figure out. He covered Kennedy in 1960; then was White House correspondent and then began writing a column on the Presidency for Life. When it folded, he took the column to Time. He appears on the Agronsky show and you may have met him when he came out with the Time writers for a briefing.
John Stacks -- He is the Washington News editor. He is the second man in the Washington Bureau; an inside desk man, I would think.
Jess Cook -- He was out here at your ONE backgrounder. We get calls from him now and then.
John Steele -- He was out here for the briefing a year or so ago. He is the magazine's senior correspondent. I gather he does corporation business, e.g., the visit of Japanese industrialists under Time, Inc. sponsorship was his baby.
John Mulliken -- He covers the White House and has been out here for a number of briefings and has been appreciative.
Jerry Hannifin -- He is the one who talked to me about the Vietnam torture story and told me that the conduct of the POW's was a reaffirmation of what kept our nation going at Valley Forge, at Cold Harbor, at Vicksburg. Hannifin is the Time man on the Watergate case, according to a memo you wrote concerning his uncovering of the name of Morton Jackson.
Jerry Schecter -- Diplomatic editor in Washington and a long-time friend of Bill Nelson's. Nelson has pressed him a couple of times on the sourcing of the Khruschev memoirs. Bill knows Jerry from their days in Tokyo….
9. FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION INQUIRIES
The Federal Bureau of Investigation has inquired regarding the following additional individuals and activities:
A. William Marihugh
The specific reason for the FBI's interest in Mr. Marihugh was not stated. Mr. Marihugh entered on duty with this Agency on 31 March 1958. He retired under a medical disability as a GS-14 Electronics Engineer on 16 February 1972.
B. Morton Barrows Jackson
Mr. Jackson and Everette Howard Hunt are believed to have been in contact with each other during early 1972. Mr. Jackson listed Mr. Hunt as a Character Reference on his Agency employment application in August 1950.
QUESTION (to Mr. John Warner on 29 November 1972):
Details on Morton Barrows Jackson, who worked about twenty years ago with the Agency.
RESPONSE:
Mr. Morton Barrows Jackson was utilized by the Agency overseas in a covert capacity covering the period from February 1951 to approximately June 1954. He was never a Staff Employee of the Central Intelligence Agency. Although Mr. Jackson is known to have listed Mr. Everette Howard Hunt as a character reference in August 1950, we have no information on the nature or extent of their association. Attached is a memorandum prepared giving full details on the background of Morton Barrows Jackson.
On 19 August 1972 Mr. Jackson called the Agency asking how to respond to possible Grand Jury questions with respect to his connections with the Agency. He was advised to say that there had been an association during the early 1950’s but to try to refer further specific questions to the Agency. On 31 August 1972 he phoned to say he had done so, that no problems had arisen, and that he expressed appreciation.
MORTON BARROWS JACKSON
1. Subject’s name came to the attention of this Agency through the Federal Bureau of Investigation, as a possible contact of Everette Howard Hunt, Jr., on the West Coast during early 1972. (Subject, in August 1950, listed Mr. Hunt as a character reference for covert Agency employment.)
2. Subject was born on 17 July 1921 at Devils Lake, North Dakota. He attended Harvard University from 1938 to 1940 and the University of Southern California from 1946 to 1948. He was admitted to the California Bar in 1949. Subject’s legal experience includes service on the Intergovernmental Committee for European Migration, Geneva, Switzerland, from 1954 to 1957, and as Regional Commissioner of the Immigration and Naturalization Service, Department of Justice, from 1958 to 1959. Subject is a retired lieutenant commander in the U.S. Naval Reserve. He is presently a partner in Jackson, Goodstein, Kumler, Copes, Croskey and Smith, Suite 1651, 1901 Avenue of the Stars, Los Angeles (Century City), California 90067; telephone: (213) 277-0200. The firm engages in general civil and trial practice in all State and Federal Courts.
3. Subject was a covert asset of this Agency in Bangkok, Thailand, from February 1951 until January 1954, which his contract expired. He was associated then with the Intercontinental Engineering Corporation.
4. In February 1954 Subject was considered for an administrative position with an Agency-sponsored Fund in Switzerland. The International Organizations Division cancelled their interest on 2 June 1954. Subject was, during 1954, an occasional source of the Bern, Switzerland, Station, but no formal relationship existed.
MEMORANDUM FOR THE FILES
FROM: PETE KINSEY
SUBJECT: INTERVIEW OF CHARLES COLSON – JAN. 20, 1975
On January 20, 1975, Senators Weicker and Baker and A.B. Culvahouse and myself met with Charles Colson at the U.S. Courthouse in Washington D.C.
As a preliminary matter, Sen. Weicker read back the notes of the interview which he had had with Colson on January 13, 1975. With certain corrections, Colson confirmed their accuracy. Colson indicated that it was Richard Ober – the CIA liaison man to Kissinger – who received packages from Howard Hunt and passed them on to Richard Helms. Colson stated that the impeachment hearings contain certain information related to a “MR. X” and that there is an affidavit stating that Hunt was bringing Ober packages through May of 1972, which were being passed on to Helms (Bill Gill of ABC News believes that the “MR. X” is, in fact, Ober). Colson indicated that although he did not know for sure, he believed the packages passed to Ober may have contained tapes. Colson bases his speculation on two things. The first relates to an NBC interview with Bernard Barker in April of 1972. Barker described being with Hunt during an interview with an individual in Miami who had been with Castro at the time Robert Kennedy was assassinated. Hunt had a tape recorder and when Barker asked Hunt what the tapes were for, Hunt replied that they were for the CIA (Bill Gill said that Hunt replied “taping for the old company”). The second basis for Colson’s speculation related to the time when Hunt met with David Shapiro while trying to see Colson to pass on a request for money. When Shapiro would not let Hunt see…
[LINES OF TEXT MISSING]
Colson mentioned Morton Jackson again and the fact that Hunt had had breakfast with Jackson the morning of the [Dr. Lewis] Fielding break-in and that the Greenspun capes had been planned in Jackson’s home….
Colson discussed certain private firms either owned by the CIA or used by the CIA. These include:
-- Intertel, a private detective firm in Washington owned by Hughes doing work for the CIA
-- Anderson Security Consultants – CIA propriety
-- Morton Jackson’s Law Firm….
***
Page 3755
Senator BAKER. I have a great respect for Director Helms and if he says it was a brown wig, I believe him.
And you have identification papers; you have camera equipment; you have recording equipment; you have the processing of film; you have the making of prints; you have help in the assembling of the cables; you have your contact with General Cushman; you have Mr. Jackson, Mr. Morton Jackson, a former CIA agent whom you went to as your best friend farthest from Washington. The record is simply studded with that sort of thing.
Now, what I am really reaching for, Mr. Hunt, is a pretty important and crucial question, I judge. That is whether or not the CIA, wittingly or unwittingly, officially or unofficially, was in effect a support agency for your operation and others at the White House.
Do you care to characterize that it was or was not, under those circumstances, a support facility, in effect, for your operations?
Mr. HUNT. Well, under – certainly, the initial circumstances; yes, Senator….
***
Page 87
when he was preparing Mr. Hunt for grand jury testimony probably in April or May.
Mr. BUTLER. April or May 1973. All right. Thank you Mr. Bittman. Thank you, Mr. Chairman.
Mr. DONOHUE. Mr. Seiberling.
Mr. SEIBERLING. Thank you, Mr. Chairman. Mr. Bittman, what was the name of the attorney who referred Mr. Hunt to you as a client?
Mr. BITTMAN. Morton Jackson
Mr. SEIBERLING. And he was from Los Angeles?
Mr. BITTMAN. Yes, sir. He’s a personal friend of Mr. Hunt’s, represented him in the capacity as an attorney and as a member of a law firm. I don’t know how big it is out there. I didn’t meet him. I didn’t know him when he called me….
***
EXCERPTS FROM HEARING OF SEPTEMBER 11, 1973
Present: Terry Lenzner, assistant chief counsel; Scott Armstrong, investigator; and H. William Shure, assistant minority counsel; Sidney Sachs, counsel for Mr. Hunt.
Mr. ARMSTRONG. Was Mr. Morton Jackson aware of the nature of your business with Mr. Winte in Los Angeles?
Mr. HUNT. No.
Mr. ARMSTRONG. Or the fact that you had business with Hughes Tool Co.?
Mr. HUNT. No. I had no business with Hughes Tool Co.
Mr. ARMSTRONG. Had you projected business with Hughes Tool Co., that is had you hoped to do business with Hughes Tool Co.?
Mr. HUNT. I do not know that I did. I think that is a premise I would object to.
Mr. ARMSTRONG. Well, consulting with the Hughes Tool Co.?
Mr. HUNT. I would again reject that assumption, Mr. Armstrong.
Mr. SHURE. Do you have any relationship with the Hughes Tool Co.?
Mr. HUNT. I had been introduced to Mr. Winte, who is the chief security officer for the Hughes Tool Co. I had some conversation with him.
***
Page 3690
16.3 E. HOWARD HUNT TESTIMONY, SEPTEMBER 24, 1973, 9 SSC 3690
Mr. DASH. Now, did you hear from Mr. Liddy during this period of time?
Mr. HUNT. What period of time?
Mr. DASH. Shortly after, around June 19 or around that time?
Mr. HUNT. Yes, sir, I did.
Mr. DASH. What, if anything, did he tell you?
Mr. HUNT. Toward midday on the 19th, I got a telephone call from him at my Mullen Co. office saying that he needed urgently to meet me. We met at the corner of the USIA building, which I believe is at 17th and Pennsylvania Ave. We met, walked around the block. During the course of the conversation, he told me that it was necessary for me to get out of town, that “they” wanted me to get out of town.
Mr. DASH. Did he indicate who “they” were?
Mr. HUNT. Not at that time.
Mr. DASH. Then, was it a fact that that particular order was rescinded?
Mr. HUNT. He told me that it was.
Mr. DASH. Now, in fact, you did leave Washington, did you not?
Mr. HUNT. I did.
Mr. DASH. And did you ultimately go to California?
Mr. HUNT. I did.
Mr. DASH. At that time, did you make arrangements to obtain Counsel?
Mr. HUNT. I obtained local counsel in California, but not Washington counsel.
Mr. DASH. Well, in California, who did you meet, what California counsel?
Mr. HUNT. I was staying at the home of an attorney, an old friend named Morton B. Jackson. Mr. Liddy appeared out there unannounced on June 21. I reiterated my request to him that he or somebody obtain counsel for me in the Washington area. Mr. Liddy gave me $1,000 and said, this will help with Jackson.
I thereupon gave the $1,000 in cash to Mr. Jackson, retaining him as my counsel on the west coast.
Mr. DASH. And did Mr. Jackson refer you to any Washington lawyer?
Mr. HUNT. In due course, he did.
Mr. DASH. Yes, and what lawyer was that?
Mr. HUNT. He referred me some time later to two attorneys, neither of whom were known to, I believe, either Mr. Jackson or myself. Simply through an alphabetical process, I decided to retain, to inquire of Mr. Bittman whether or not he would be interested in representing me.
Mr. DASH. And did you retain Mr. William Bittman?
Mr. HUNT. I did.
Mr. DASH. And when did you first meet Mr. Bittman in Washington?
Mr. Hunt. On the night of July 3.
Mr. DASH. What was your understanding, Mr. Hunt, concerning legal fees and support of your family that you would receive? What general understanding did you have?
Mr. HUNT. At the time, Mr. Liddy appeared at the home of Mr. Jackson on June 21, I raised the question with him, as I had with…
-- CIA Document, Approved for Release 2004/10/28: CIA-RDP88-01314R0003000180002-2
(whom she divorced in 1975) and moved to Los Angeles, where she was one of the first American students of Maharishi Mahesh Yogi's Transcendental Meditation. She introduced TM to much of the Americas.
In 1968 she studied in India's Valley of the Saints and became an independent teacher of meditation. Among her classmates were the Beatles, who immortalized her and her son Rik in "The Continuing Story of Bungalow Bill." These were the first of 40 trips to India, a country she loved.
Nancy taught TM to the end of her life. Hundreds of students, many notables of film and music, visited her house in Beverly Hills for instruction. Readers were moved by the account of her Indian "spiritual journey in self discovery" (Dominick Dunne).
Nancy was a fully supportive mother; she encouraged her children them to develop unique lifestyles. She provided a home to many friends, who spanned the world; she had an address book for each continent. Long active with the Colleagues, one of Southern California's most prominent charities, Nancy was a major supporter of Molokai's Hui Ho'olana educational center, where a building has been erected in her name.
Nancy is survived by her four children and two sisters, and two brothers-in-law, Herbert Gray Hills, Jr. and Henry Blackmer Kistler, as well as four grandchildren and three great grandchildren, and numerous nieces and nephews. Her ashes will be deposited in Buenos Aires, Molokai, and Piedmont, California.
In lieu of sending flowers, Nancy's family suggests that memorials be made to Hui Ho'olana (PO Box 280, Kualapuu, HI 96757; http://huiho.org/contact.php).
***************************************************
This is the official obituary about Mom, Nancy Cooke de Herrera that will be released to the press. She was such a source of so much support especially in our creating the Hui.The new Peace Pavilion will be dedicated to her.
Nancy Cooke de Herrera, an inveterate traveler, began her next journey February 28, 2013 in Beverly Hills, with her children present to offer a peaceful farewell. She enjoyed a life sufficiently full to require three autobiographies: Beyond Gurus (1993, republished as All You Need Is Love: An Eyewitness Account of When Spirituality Spread from the East to the West, 2003), Never Tango with a Stranger: Love in Peron’s Argentina (2008), and "Around the World with Nancy Cooke" (in preparation). Her friends spanned the world; she had an address book for each continent. All this is evidence of the incredible gift she possessed that enabled her to connect so quickly with so many.
Born in Oakland, April 12, 1922, the daughter of Edward Irving Veitch and Marie Beatrice Morledge, Nancy attended Piedmont High School with her lookalike sisters, Ardagh Marie Kistler and Doryce Lorillard Hills Wells, then Stanford University. In 1942 she married Richard Alexander Cooke, Jr., with whom she raised three sons, Richard Alexander Cooke III, Starr Edward Cooke, and Leighton Brett Cooke, while living in Hawaii. They were divorced in 1951. Subsequently Nancy married Luis Alberto de Herrera and moved to Buenos Aires, where they bore a daughter, Maria Luisa de Herrera. She returned to California in 1955 after Luis’ untimely death and founded a public relations firm in San Francisco with Dorothy McKenzie. elected in 1956 to represent her country as the US Ambassadress of Fashion, she travelled the major capitals of the world on tours organized by the United States Information Agency. She visited the countries bearing gifts, haute couture outfits designed by the leading fashion designers of the day, and staged fashion shows in fifteen hosting countries such as Argentina, England, France, Germany, Iran, Italy, and others. In turn, these countries gave her evening gowns or other designer outfits to be presented in a fashion show for a charity fundraiser for UNICEF. Later, at the invitation of the Kremlin, she led a delegation of San Francisco businesswomen to the USSR. She subsequently toured the United States, lecturing on the fashions and cultures of the world.
In 1962, Nancy visited many of the holy men of India, including Lama Anagarika Govinda, Swami Sivananda and the Dalai Lama, an experience that changed her life. Upon her return to California she married Morton Barrows Jackson(whom she divorced in 1975) and moved to Los Angeles, where she became one of the first American students of Maharishi Mahesh Yogi’s Transcendental Meditation. She introduced Maharishi to much of the United States and to many of the countries of Latin America. In 1968 she studied meditation at Maharishi’s ashram in India’s Valley of the Saints and became a teacher of meditation. Among her classmates were Donovan, Mia Farrow, Mike Love (of the Beach Boys), and the Beatles, who immortalized her son Rik in “The Continuing Story of Bungalow Bill.” These were the first of 40 trips to India, a country she greatly loved and whose leaders she knew well.
Although Nancy later took more courses in meditation in Switzerland with Maharishi, she became an independent teacher of TM, a role she pursued to the end of her life. Hundreds of students, many of them notables of film and the music world, visited her house in Beverly Hills to be instructed in this practice. Readers were moved by the account of her Indian “spiritual journey in self discovery” (Dominick Dunne).
Nancy all the while was a fully supportive mother of her four children, encouraging them to develop unique lifestyles. And she provided the same and a home to many friends. It was rare for her to not have a visitor staying in her house. She long was an active member of the Colleagues, one of Southern California’s most prominent charities. A frequent visitor to Molokai, Nancy was a major supporter of the Hui Ho’olana educational center.
Nancy or Nanaji, as she was known to her family, is survived by her four children, a stepson, Miguel Patricio de Herrera, and two sisters, as well as three daughters-in-law, Bronwyn Ann Cooke, Joan Reinau Cooke, and Olga Muller Cooke, and two brothers-in-law, Herbert Gray Hills, Jr. and Henry Blackmer Kistler, and one grandson-in-law, Kelly Nicholas Markgraf. She enjoyed her four grandchildren, Caroline Cooke Cage, Sasha Cooke Markgraf, Sonya Brett Cooke, and Nicholas Starr Cooke and three great grandchildren, Richard Presnall Cage, Campbell Starr Cage, and Evelyn Helena Markgraf. Her ashes will be deposited in Buenos Aires, Molokai, and Piedmont, California.
She will be sorely missed by all her family and friends, who will cherish the many stories she told about her adventures. Her larger than life presence will persist.
In lieu of sending flowers, Nancy’s family suggests that memorials be made to Hui Ho’olana (PO Box 280, Kualapuu, HI 96757; (808) 646-0034; http://huiho.org/contact.php), where a building has been erected in her name.
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Re: Freda Bedi Cont'd (#2)
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Time Luncheon Guests [Morton Barrow "Tony" Jackson] [E. Howard Hunt] [Charles Colson] [Dr. Lewis Fielding break-in] [Watergate]
by Central Intelligence Agency (CIA)
Approved for Release 2004/10/28: CIA-RDP88-01314R0003000180002-2
1972/1973
Approved for Release 2004/10/28: CIA-RDP88-01314R0003000180002-2
Time Luncheon Guests
1:00 p.m.
3 December 1973
888 16th Street, N.W.
The following will be the luncheon guests today:
Hugh Sidey -- Host and Bureau Chief. Always been cordial, friendly and fair as far as I can figure out. He covered Kennedy in 1960; then was White House correspondent and then began writing a column on the Presidency for Life. When it folded, he took the column to Time. He appears on the Agronsky show and you may have met him when he came out with the Time writers for a briefing.
John Stacks -- He is the Washington News editor. He is the second man in the Washington Bureau; an inside desk man, I would think.
Jess Cook -- He was out here at your ONE backgrounder. We get calls from him now and then.
John Steele -- He was out here for the briefing a year or so ago. He is the magazine's senior correspondent. I gather he does corporation business, e.g., the visit of Japanese industrialists under Time, Inc. sponsorship was his baby.
John Mulliken -- He covers the White House and has been out here for a number of briefings and has been appreciative.
Jerry Hannifin -- He is the one who talked to me about the Vietnam torture story and told me that the conduct of the POW's was a reaffirmation of what kept our nation going at Valley Forge, at Cold Harbor, at Vicksburg. Hannifin is the Time man on the Watergate case, according to a memo you wrote concerning his uncovering of the name of Morton Jackson.
Jerry Schecter -- Diplomatic editor in Washington and a long-time friend of Bill Nelson's. Nelson has pressed him a couple of times on the sourcing of the Khruschev memoirs. Bill knows Jerry from their days in Tokyo.
8. SON OF FORMER AGENCY ASSET IS PARTNER OF BERNARD L. BARKER
Miguel A. Suarez mentioned in an earlier Watergate Incident Status Report dated 26 June 1972, has now been correctly identified as Miguel A. Suarez Sarrain. The previously reported information about his real estate partnership with Bernard L. Barker and his Republican Party activities in Florida is correct. He has not, however, been in contact with this Agency at any time, and the Agency has had no contact with his firm, Ameritas. On the other hand, his father, Miguel A. Suarez Fernandez, was [DELETE] as noted previously.
Miguel A. Suarez Sarrain was born in Cuba in about 1936, and is a United States citizen. He is married to Yolanda Suarez Sarrain, was educated in the United States, and passed the Florida Bar examinations in 1963. Prior to 1965 he was a law clerk for Attorney Ellis S. Rubin, Miami Beach, Florida. He also worked as secretary of the Pan American Drug Company in Miami, of which his father was President. Suarez Sarrain was an unsuccessful Republican candidate for mayor of Miami in 1971.
9. FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION INQUIRIES
The Federal Bureau of Investigation has inquired regarding the following additional individuals and activities:
A. William Marihugh
The specific reason for the FBI's interest in Mr. Marihugh was not stated. Mr. Marihugh entered on duty with this Agency on 31 March 1958. He retired under a medical disability as a GS-14 Electronics Engineer on 16 February 1972.
B. Morton Barrows Jackson
Mr. Jackson and Everette Howard Hunt are believed to have been in contact with each other during early 1972. Mr. Jackson listed Mr. Hunt as a Character Reference on his Agency employment application in August 1950.
QUESTION (to Mr. John Warner on 29 November 1972):
Details on Morton Barrows Jackson, who worked about twenty years ago with the Agency.
RESPONSE:
Mr. Morton Barrows Jackson was utilized by the Agency overseas in a covert capacity covering the period from February 1951 to approximately June 1954. He was never a Staff Employee of the Central Intelligence Agency. Although Mr. Jackson is known to have listed Mr. Everette Howard Hunt as a character reference in August 1950, we have no information on the nature or extent of their association. Attached is a memorandum prepared giving full details on the background of Morton Barrows Jackson.
On 19 August 1972 Mr. Jackson called the Agency asking how to respond to possible Grand Jury questions with respect to his connections with the Agency. He was advised to say that there had been an association during the early 1950’s but to try to refer further specific questions to the Agency. On 31 August 1972 he phoned to say he had done so, that no problems had arisen, and that he expressed appreciation.
MORTON BARROWS JACKSON
1. Subject’s name came to the attention of this Agency through the Federal Bureau of Investigation, as a possible contact of Everette Howard Hunt, Jr., on the West Coast during early 1972. (Subject, in August 1950, listed Mr. Hunt as a character reference for covert Agency employment.)
2. Subject was born on 17 July 1921 at Devils Lake, North Dakota. He attended Harvard University from 1938 to 1940 and the University of Southern California from 1946 to 1948. He was admitted to the California Bar in 1949. Subject’s legal experience includes service on the Intergovernmental Committee for European Migration, Geneva, Switzerland, from 1954 to 1957, and as Regional Commissioner of the Immigration and Naturalization Service, Department of Justice, from 1958 to 1959. Subject is a retired lieutenant commander in the U.S. Naval Reserve. He is presently a partner in Jackson, Goodstein, Kumler, Copes, Croskey and Smith, Suite 1651, 1901 Avenue of the Stars, Los Angeles (Century City), California 90067; telephone: (213) 277-0200. The firm engages in general civil and trial practice in all State and Federal Courts.
3. Subject was a covert asset of this Agency in Bangkok, Thailand, from February 1951 until January 1954, which his contract expired. He was associated then with the Intercontinental Engineering Corporation.
4. In February 1954 Subject was considered for an administrative position with an Agency-sponsored Fund in Switzerland. The International Organizations Division cancelled their interest on 2 June 1954. Subject was, during 1954, an occasional source of the Bern, Switzerland, Station, but no formal relationship existed.
MEMORANDUM FOR THE FILES
FROM: PETE KINSEY
SUBJECT: INTERVIEW OF CHARLES COLSON – JAN. 20, 1975
On January 20, 1975, Senators Weicker and Baker and A.B. Culvahouse and myself met with Charles Colson at the U.S. Courthouse in Washington D.C.
As a preliminary matter, Sen. Weicker read back the notes of the interview which he had had with Colson on January 13, 1975. With certain corrections, Colson confirmed their accuracy. Colson indicated that it was Richard Ober – the CIA liaison man to Kissinger – who received packages from Howard Hunt and passed them on to Richard Helms. Colson stated that the impeachment hearings contain certain information related to a “MR. X” and that there is an affidavit stating that Hunt was bringing Ober packages through May of 1972, which were being passed on to Helms (Bill Gill of ABC News believes that the “MR. X” is, in fact, Ober). Colson indicated that although he did not know for sure, he believed the packages passed to Ober may have contained tapes. Colson bases his speculation on two things. The first relates to an NBC interview with Bernard Barker in April of 1972. Barker described being with Hunt during an interview with an individual in Miami who had been with Castro at the time Robert Kennedy was assassinated. Hunt had a tape recorder and when Barker asked Hunt what the tapes were for, Hunt replied that they were for the CIA (Bill Gill said that Hunt replied “taping for the old company”). The second basis for Colson’s speculation related to the time when Hunt met with David Shapiro while trying to see Colson to pass on a request for money. When Shapiro would not let Hunt see…
[LINES OF TEXT MISSING]
Colson mentioned Morton Jackson again and the fact that Hunt had had breakfast with Jackson the morning of the [Dr. Lewis] Fielding break-in and that the Greenspun capes had been planned in Jackson’s home.
On the subject of Lucien Conein, Colson stated he had reason to believe that the DEA activities abroad of the type we were interested in were being handled by Conein, e.g. kidnapping, assassination.
Senator Baker queried Colson as to whether he believed Mullen and Col. was CIA propriety citing the facts that Caddy operated out of it, the firm’s main clients were Hughes, the Free Cuba Committee and Rotary International. Colson also said that Mullen and Co. hired the people the CIA wanted it to.
Colson noted that the CIA Watergate file mentions that when Bob Bennett needed more money to hire a new man, the money was paid by Hughes rather than the CIA.
In response to a question by Senator Weicker, Colson stated that the CIA broke into the Chilean Embassy in the fall of 1971 to install wiretaps. The taps were shut off during the elections but resumed afterward to monitor information relating to trade delegations coming to the U.S. The taps were removed in May of 1973 because the CIA thought Dean knew of their existence. Colson mentioned that in April of 1972, McCord had called the Chilean Embassy to get himself wiretapped.
With respect to the CIA’s relationship with ITT, Colson recounted a statement by Geneen where Geneen said that “we’re putting our money to work with your boys in Chile.” Colson believes the CIA was very important. Later, Colson said he talked with Buzardt who told him to stay away from the CIA – that you can’t tell where Hughes begins and the CIA ends and that there are some big Republicans involved. Colson said he talked to Nixon twice after that and that Nixon told him to stay out of the matter – that someone in Colson’s office was feeding information to the CIA. Colson said that all of his conversations with Nixon had been subpoenaed, but only two were introduced. All the rest were withheld.
Colson said that in his conversations with Nixon, Nixon had an obsession about Hunt. In response to Colson telling Nixon to get out the Watergate story, Nixon kept referring to the trouble with Hunt arising out of Hunt’s contacts with Ehrlichman and Colson. This conversation occurred on February 13, 1973. In an earlier conversation on June 20, 1972 when Colson was telling Nixon to expose those involved in Watergate, Nixon told Colson that “they know about Hunt,” apparently, as Colson sees it, in an effort to slow Colson down. Colson remarked that the President’s obsession about Hunt and his contacts with Ehrlichman and Colson was expressed months before the evidence shows that Nixon had knowledge of the Ellsberg break-in (March 17, 1973).
Colson recounted Bennett’s inquiry to him about finding out what Maheau did with the $50,000 that was supposed to go to Rebozo, and whether or not Maheau had pocketed the money.
[LINES OF TEXT MISSING]
… one who recommended McCord for a job at CREEP.
Colson told of a February 28, 1973 meeting at the Watergate Hotel between Bennett and Eric Isenstead. Bennett said “I will take care of Ervin if you take care of Hunt”. A record of this conversation is in the CIA Watergate File.
Senator Baker inquired as to whether Colson had any knowledge of domestic assassination operations. Colson replied that he did not know but that such operations did go on overseas.
Colson said that the CIA had been trying hard to discredit Andrew St. George – that the agency was afraid of him.
Colson said we should look into the surroundings of the death of an Italian named Sarti, who was a major narcotics trafficker shot in Mexico about two years ago. Sarti bought his way out of jail and got to Mexico where he was shot. Colson said this case will show the other half of Conein’s operation.
Colson discussed certain private firms either owned by the CIA or used by the CIA. These include:
-- Intertel, a private detective firm in Washington owned by Hughes doing work for the CIA
-- Anderson Security Consultants – CIA propriety
-- Morton Jackson’s Law Firm
There was also mention of the firm of Wagoner and Baroody which came out of the firm of Down and Roosevelt – the latter having definite CIA ties.
Senator Weicker inquired as to whether Pepsico may have firm …
[LINES OF TEXT MISSING]
bona fides established but rather needed only to make the tie office …
Colson then began listing the areas we should explore more thoroughly:
-- Richard Ober – Believes his role was critical and that he would know what was being passed between Hunt and Helms.
-- Fritz Kramer and Jay Lovestone – Lovestone ran the CIA projects for the AFL-CIO. Kramer is Kissinger’s rabbi (who is somehow connected to Lovestone – this needs further exploration with Colson).
-- Clifford Irving Manuscript – Colson said that something in the Irving manuscript threw the White House, Bennett and Hughes into a panic. Hunt and McCord were approached by Hughes’ people to steal the manuscript. Hunt and McCord said they would need $55,000 for the job. Hughes people said “too much”, so the job was never pulled off. There was speculation around the table that by the time Hunt and McCord came around with the 55k figure, Hughes people may have bought off Irving. Colson believes Bill Safire had a copy of the manuscript.
Colson mentioned that Helms had gone out of his way to get Hunt placed in a job. After Hunt went to work at Mullen, he complained that his pay was not comparable to what he had been payed at the CIA. Bennett then raised his salary to a comparable level.
Colson said Hunt’s “casing” photos of the Fielding office were processed by the CIA. The photos were given directly to Helms with Fielding’s name circled.
Senator Baker asked Colson if he knew why Hunt had stopped at the Pentagon for two hours prior to leaving from Dulles on the Fielding break-in.
Colson’s speculation that Hunt’s and the CIA’s justification for supplying the wigs and other equipment to Hunt was fictitious.
Colson said he knows that the CIA gave Hunt the name of a lock picker in January 1972, and that the CIA gave Hunt Anderson Security Consultants to use on a security job for Hughes in Las Vegas.
Colson mentioned a July 10 memo from Lakowski (phonetic) of the CIA to files. The memo stated that Bennett said that he had a backdoor contact with Edward Bennett Williams and if the CIA approves Bennett will feed information to him to get the heat shifted away from the CIA to the White House and Colson. This Memo went to Helms, whose initials appear on it. Colson’s lawyer, Ken Adams, said that Williams asked things in the civil suit depositions that he could only have learned from Bennett. For example, Adams said that Williams first question to Hunt was whether Hunt had gone to Cappaquiddick to interview DeMott. Colson had testified about this before the grand jury but does not believe Williams got it from Silbert or Glanzer.
Colson referred to a list of Plumbers activities which had been shown to him by the FBI. The memo/list was dated August 31-71 and listed the projects which were being undertaken by the plumbers. One item had been blacked out. At the point Colson’s lawyers told the FBI that Colson was a defendant in the case, the FBI withdrew the document and terminated the interview. Colson’s lawyer made handwritten notes on the list which he will supply to me.
Sen. Weicker inquired of Colson’s knowledge of meetings in Mardian’s operation in the Internal Security division at Justice. Colson believed the CIA was into the operation, particularly pre-convention time – funneling information to Mardian. Colson…
[LINES OF TEXT MISSING]
break-in. Colson said Smyth had done some debugging work for him (this may need clarification).
Colson said Seymour Hush [Hersh?] had the CIA story plus much more back in January of 1974. Hush [Hersh?] called Colson and told him that Colby had spent two hours in his office confirming everything. This was during the time of the meetings Colson was having with Haig and Buzhardt.
Colson said he could go through the Helm’s testimony at his confirmation hearings and show where he committed perjury.
Colson said he was with Kissinger on June 14, at 8:00 A.M. after the Pentagon Papers broke. Colson said his log’s show he was with Kissinger on Tuesday the 15th and he is sure he was with Kissinger on Monday. Colson said Kissinger was going through the ceiling – that Kissinger was almost irrational. Colson feels that there is something more deep and personal to Henry Kissinger than the covers which were blown by the leak. Colson also told of Kissinger’s close relationship with Rockefeller and Kissinger’s use of Rockefeller’s facilities in conducting secret negotiations. Kissinger was consulting Rocky in this area. Colson at this time was conducting domestic negotiations for Kissinger.
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Page 3755
Senator BAKER. I have a great respect for Director Helms and if he says it was a brown wig, I believe him.
And you have identification papers; you have camera equipment; you have recording equipment; you have the processing of film; you have the making of prints; you have help in the assembling of the cables; you have your contact with General Cushman; you have Mr. Jackson, Mr. Morton Jackson, a former CIA agent whom you went to as your best friend farthest from Washington. The record is simply studded with that sort of thing.
Now, what I am really reaching for, Mr. Hunt, is a pretty important and crucial question, I judge. That is whether or not the CIA, wittingly or unwittingly, officially or unofficially, was in effect a support agency for your operation and others at the White House.
Do you care to characterize that it was or was not, under those circumstances, a support facility, in effect, for your operations?
Mr. HUNT. Well, under – certainly, the initial circumstances; yes, Senator.
Senator BAKER. Mr. Martinez was still on the payroll, I believe, as a consultant for the CIA.
Mr. HUNT. So I understand.
Senator BAKER. Were there other CIA involvements that I do not know about or I have not asked you about? Can you embellish that scenario any further?
Mr. HUNT. No, sir.
Senator BAKER. Would you if you could?
Mr. HUNT. Yes, sir.
Senator BAKER. I ask you if you had a letter of instruction on this project, which I understand to be a phrase of art in the intelligence community. Did the letter of instructions tell you what you should do if you got caught or did you have orders to that effect from anyone?
Mr. HUNT. No, sir, and by the way, a letter of instruction is only given by the Director to a chief of station, not to subordinate personnel.
Senator BAKER. But you understand that having been a chief of station?
Mr. HUNT. Yes, sir.
Senator BAKER. Did you have anything equivalent to a letter of instructions?
Mr. HUNT. No, sir.
Senator BAKER. Would you tell me if you did?
Mr. HUNT. Yes, sir.
Senator BAKER. Did Mr. Bittman tell you how he used that $156,000, how he disbursed it?
Mr. HUNT. How he disbursed it? I am sorry, I perhaps misunderstood it.
Senator BAKER. Mr. Bittman, your attorney, did he disclose to you …
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Page 87
when he was preparing Mr. Hunt for grand jury testimony probably in April or May.
Mr. BUTLER. April or May 1973. All right. Thank you Mr. Bittman. Thank you, Mr. Chairman.
Mr. DONOHUE. Mr. Seiberling.
Mr. SEIBERLING. Thank you, Mr. Chairman. Mr. Bittman, what was the name of the attorney who referred Mr. Hunt to you as a client?
Mr. BITTMAN. Morton Jackson
Mr. SEIBERLING. And he was from Los Angeles?
Mr. BITTMAN. Yes, sir. He’s a personal friend of Mr. Hunt’s, represented him in the capacity as an attorney and as a member of a law firm. I don’t know how big it is out there. I didn’t meet him. I didn’t know him when he called me.
Mr. SEIBERLING. Do you know how much pension Mr. Hunt received from the CIA?
Mr. BITTMAN. No, sir; I do not.
Mr. SEIBERLING. Based on your observations of Mr. Hunt would you consider him to be an intelligent person?
Mr. BITTMAN. Yes, sir.
Mr. SEIBERLING. Would you consider that he had a reasonably or had a reasonably sophisticated perception of the things that motivate other people?
Mr. BITTMAN. I am not sure I understand that question.
Mr. SEIBERLING. Well, was he reasonably sophisticated about human nature?
Mr. BITTMAN. No, sir. Mr. Hunt was an operative and by operative I mean if he was given an order by a superior he would do it regardless of what it was.
Mr. SEIBERLING. Well, that isn’t quite the point of my question. My point is did he understand what motivates people?
Mr. BITTMAN. I just don’t think I understand the question. I don’t think I can answer it. I’m sorry.
Mr. SEIBERLING. I see. All right. I yield my time to M. Saranes.
Mr. SARBANES. Mr. Bittman –
Mr. BITTMAN. I will be happy to answer it, Congressman, if you can rephrase it again. I am not trying to avoid it.
Mr. SEIBERLING. Well, my only question was was he reasonably conversant with human beings so that he would understand –
Mr. BITTMAN. Well, he was conversant with human beings but he has lived a very bizarre life with the CIA for 21 years involved in covert activities so that’s all I can say.
Mr. SEIBERLING. Are you saying he didn’t have dealings with other people?
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Page 9348
Mr. ARMSTRONG. What was the purpose of your trip in January of 1972?
Mr. HUNT. I am sure from that date that that was exclusively concerning the San Diego site or the forthcoming Republican convention.
Mr. ARMSTRONG. Was that the occasion of the contact with Mr. – what was his name? – Mr. Winte?
Mr. HUNT. I don’t know. We were out there pretty frequently. I wouldn’t think that that was it. I think the contact with Mr. Winte came later. If we could find out, for example, when Senator Muskie withdrew, we would know when the cutoff point was.
Mr. ARMSTRONG. Well, on that occasion you were registered as being – Mr. Liddy was registered – Mr. Leonard was registered as being from Hughes Tool Co.
Mr. HUNT. Well, this was probably not the only occasion when we used that leased wire.
Mr. ARMSTRONG. To make arrangements?
Mr. HUNT. Yes. Let me say this; we always got better accommodations when Hughes Tool made accommodations for us.
Mr. ARMSTRONG. You were back out there again February 19 or February 17, 1972. Do you recall the specifics?
Mr. HUNT. I don’t recall the specific purpose, no, sir. There was at least one occasion when Mr. Liddy told me that he had to go out to California and would I like to come along for the ride – expenses paid. And I said, “Sure.” That might have been the time.
Mr. ARMSTRONG. Are you aware of anyone that has done any clandestine work for the Hughes Tool Co.
Mr. HUNT. No, sir, other than Intertel.
Mr. ARMSTRONG. Other than Intertel in their paid capacity?
Mr. HUNT. I wouldn’t know of any, no, sir.
***
EXCERPTS FROM HEARING OF SEPTEMBER 11, 1973
Present: Terry Lenzner, assistant chief counsel; Scott Armstrong, investigator; and H. William Shure, assistant minority counsel; Sidney Sachs, counsel for Mr. Hunt.
Mr. ARMSTRONG. Was Mr. Morton Jackson aware of the nature of your business with Mr. Winte in Los Angeles?
Mr. HUNT. No.
Mr. ARMSTRONG. Or the fact that you had business with Hughes Tool Co.?
Mr. HUNT. No. I had no business with Hughes Tool Co.
Mr. ARMSTRONG. Had you projected business with Hughes Tool Co., that is had you hoped to do business with Hughes Tool Co.?
Mr. HUNT. I do not know that I did. I think that is a premise I would object to.
Mr. ARMSTRONG. Well, consulting with the Hughes Tool Co.?
Mr. HUNT. I would again reject that assumption, Mr. Armstrong.
Mr. SHURE. Do you have any relationship with the Hughes Tool Co.?
Mr. HUNT. I had been introduced to Mr. Winte, who is the chief security officer for the Hughes Tool Co. I had some conversation with him.
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Page 3690
16.3 E. HOWARD HUNT TESTIMONY, SEPTEMBER 24, 1973, 9 SSC 3690
Mr. DASH. Now, did you hear from Mr. Liddy during this period of time?
Mr. HUNT. What period of time?
Mr. DASH. Shortly after, around June 19 or around that time?
Mr. HUNT. Yes, sir, I did.
Mr. DASH. What, if anything, did he tell you?
Mr. HUNT. Toward midday on the 19th, I got a telephone call from him at my Mullen Co. office saying that he needed urgently to meet me. We met at the corner of the USIA building, which I believe is at 17th and Pennsylvania Ave. We met, walked around the block. During the course of the conversation, he told me that it was necessary for me to get out of town, that “they” wanted me to get out of town.
Mr. DASH. Did he indicate who “they” were?
Mr. HUNT. Not at that time.
Mr. DASH. Then, was it a fact that that particular order was rescinded?
Mr. HUNT. He told me that it was.
Mr. DASH. Now, in fact, you did leave Washington, did you not?
Mr. HUNT. I did.
Mr. DASH. And did you ultimately go to California?
Mr. HUNT. I did.
Mr. DASH. At that time, did you make arrangements to obtain Counsel?
Mr. HUNT. I obtained local counsel in California, but not Washington counsel.
Mr. DASH. Well, in California, who did you meet, what California counsel?
Mr. HUNT. I was staying at the home of an attorney, an old friend named Morton B. Jackson. Mr. Liddy appeared out there unannounced on June 21. I reiterated my request to him that he or somebody obtain counsel for me in the Washington area. Mr. Liddy gave me $1,000 and said, this will help with Jackson.
I thereupon gave the $1,000 in cash to Mr. Jackson, retaining him as my counsel on the west coast.
Mr. DASH. And did Mr. Jackson refer you to any Washington lawyer?
Mr. HUNT. In due course, he did.
Mr. DASH. Yes, and what lawyer was that?
Mr. HUNT. He referred me some time later to two attorneys, neither of whom were known to, I believe, either Mr. Jackson or myself. Simply through an alphabetical process, I decided to retain, to inquire of Mr. Bittman whether or not he would be interested in representing me.
Mr. DASH. And did you retain Mr. William Bittman?
Mr. HUNT. I did.
Mr. DASH. And when did you first meet Mr. Bittman in Washington?
Mr. Hunt. On the night of July 3.
Mr. DASH. What was your understanding, Mr. Hunt, concerning legal fees and support of your family that you would receive? What general understanding did you have?
Mr. HUNT. At the time, Mr. Liddy appeared at the home of Mr. Jackson on June 21, I raised the question with him, as I had with…
(208)
by Central Intelligence Agency (CIA)
Approved for Release 2004/10/28: CIA-RDP88-01314R0003000180002-2
1972/1973
To Whom It May Concern:
This is a request under the Freedom of Information Act. I hereby request the following records:
Documents relating to or mentioning Morton Barrows "Tony" Jackson and his contacts and employment with the Agency, including but not limited to those mentioned in https://ia601504.us.archive.org/18/item ... ackson.pdf This includes previous disclosure of his employment by your Agency. His death has been widely and extensively reported. http://articles.latimes.com/1991-12-16/ ... on-jackson
I am a member of the news media and request classification as such. I have previously written featured articles on the Agency, and have a long-term contract to write the Encyclopedia of the OSS. http://andmagazine.com/us/1431865273.html
The requested documents will be made available to the general public, and this request is not being made for commercial purposes.
In the event that there are fees, I would be grateful if you would inform me of the total charges in advance of fulfilling my request. I would prefer the request filled electronically, by e-mail attachment if available or CD-ROM if not.
Thank you in advance for your anticipated cooperation in this matter. I look forward to receiving your response to this request within 20 business days, as the statute requires.
Sincerely,
Michael Best
Approved for Release 2004/10/28: CIA-RDP88-01314R0003000180002-2
Time Luncheon Guests
1:00 p.m.
3 December 1973
888 16th Street, N.W.
The following will be the luncheon guests today:
Hugh Sidey -- Host and Bureau Chief. Always been cordial, friendly and fair as far as I can figure out. He covered Kennedy in 1960; then was White House correspondent and then began writing a column on the Presidency for Life. When it folded, he took the column to Time. He appears on the Agronsky show and you may have met him when he came out with the Time writers for a briefing.
John Stacks -- He is the Washington News editor. He is the second man in the Washington Bureau; an inside desk man, I would think.
Jess Cook -- He was out here at your ONE backgrounder. We get calls from him now and then.
John Steele -- He was out here for the briefing a year or so ago. He is the magazine's senior correspondent. I gather he does corporation business, e.g., the visit of Japanese industrialists under Time, Inc. sponsorship was his baby.
John Mulliken -- He covers the White House and has been out here for a number of briefings and has been appreciative.
Jerry Hannifin -- He is the one who talked to me about the Vietnam torture story and told me that the conduct of the POW's was a reaffirmation of what kept our nation going at Valley Forge, at Cold Harbor, at Vicksburg. Hannifin is the Time man on the Watergate case, according to a memo you wrote concerning his uncovering of the name of Morton Jackson.
In 1962, Nancy [Cooke de Herrera]... married Morton Barrows Jackson.
-- Obituary: Nancy Cooke de Herrera, by Analisa Harangozo, Patch Staff
Jerry Schecter -- Diplomatic editor in Washington and a long-time friend of Bill Nelson's. Nelson has pressed him a couple of times on the sourcing of the Khruschev memoirs. Bill knows Jerry from their days in Tokyo.
8. SON OF FORMER AGENCY ASSET IS PARTNER OF BERNARD L. BARKER
Miguel A. Suarez mentioned in an earlier Watergate Incident Status Report dated 26 June 1972, has now been correctly identified as Miguel A. Suarez Sarrain. The previously reported information about his real estate partnership with Bernard L. Barker and his Republican Party activities in Florida is correct. He has not, however, been in contact with this Agency at any time, and the Agency has had no contact with his firm, Ameritas. On the other hand, his father, Miguel A. Suarez Fernandez, was [DELETE] as noted previously.
Miguel A. Suarez Sarrain was born in Cuba in about 1936, and is a United States citizen. He is married to Yolanda Suarez Sarrain, was educated in the United States, and passed the Florida Bar examinations in 1963. Prior to 1965 he was a law clerk for Attorney Ellis S. Rubin, Miami Beach, Florida. He also worked as secretary of the Pan American Drug Company in Miami, of which his father was President. Suarez Sarrain was an unsuccessful Republican candidate for mayor of Miami in 1971.
9. FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION INQUIRIES
The Federal Bureau of Investigation has inquired regarding the following additional individuals and activities:
A. William Marihugh
The specific reason for the FBI's interest in Mr. Marihugh was not stated. Mr. Marihugh entered on duty with this Agency on 31 March 1958. He retired under a medical disability as a GS-14 Electronics Engineer on 16 February 1972.
B. Morton Barrows Jackson
Mr. Jackson and Everette Howard Hunt are believed to have been in contact with each other during early 1972. Mr. Jackson listed Mr. Hunt as a Character Reference on his Agency employment application in August 1950.
QUESTION (to Mr. John Warner on 29 November 1972):
Details on Morton Barrows Jackson, who worked about twenty years ago with the Agency.
RESPONSE:
Mr. Morton Barrows Jackson was utilized by the Agency overseas in a covert capacity covering the period from February 1951 to approximately June 1954. He was never a Staff Employee of the Central Intelligence Agency. Although Mr. Jackson is known to have listed Mr. Everette Howard Hunt as a character reference in August 1950, we have no information on the nature or extent of their association. Attached is a memorandum prepared giving full details on the background of Morton Barrows Jackson.
On 19 August 1972 Mr. Jackson called the Agency asking how to respond to possible Grand Jury questions with respect to his connections with the Agency. He was advised to say that there had been an association during the early 1950’s but to try to refer further specific questions to the Agency. On 31 August 1972 he phoned to say he had done so, that no problems had arisen, and that he expressed appreciation.
MORTON BARROWS JACKSON
1. Subject’s name came to the attention of this Agency through the Federal Bureau of Investigation, as a possible contact of Everette Howard Hunt, Jr., on the West Coast during early 1972. (Subject, in August 1950, listed Mr. Hunt as a character reference for covert Agency employment.)
2. Subject was born on 17 July 1921 at Devils Lake, North Dakota. He attended Harvard University from 1938 to 1940 and the University of Southern California from 1946 to 1948. He was admitted to the California Bar in 1949. Subject’s legal experience includes service on the Intergovernmental Committee for European Migration, Geneva, Switzerland, from 1954 to 1957, and as Regional Commissioner of the Immigration and Naturalization Service, Department of Justice, from 1958 to 1959. Subject is a retired lieutenant commander in the U.S. Naval Reserve. He is presently a partner in Jackson, Goodstein, Kumler, Copes, Croskey and Smith, Suite 1651, 1901 Avenue of the Stars, Los Angeles (Century City), California 90067; telephone: (213) 277-0200. The firm engages in general civil and trial practice in all State and Federal Courts.
3. Subject was a covert asset of this Agency in Bangkok, Thailand, from February 1951 until January 1954, which his contract expired. He was associated then with the Intercontinental Engineering Corporation.
4. In February 1954 Subject was considered for an administrative position with an Agency-sponsored Fund in Switzerland. The International Organizations Division cancelled their interest on 2 June 1954. Subject was, during 1954, an occasional source of the Bern, Switzerland, Station, but no formal relationship existed.
MEMORANDUM FOR THE FILES
FROM: PETE KINSEY
SUBJECT: INTERVIEW OF CHARLES COLSON – JAN. 20, 1975
On January 20, 1975, Senators Weicker and Baker and A.B. Culvahouse and myself met with Charles Colson at the U.S. Courthouse in Washington D.C.
As a preliminary matter, Sen. Weicker read back the notes of the interview which he had had with Colson on January 13, 1975. With certain corrections, Colson confirmed their accuracy. Colson indicated that it was Richard Ober – the CIA liaison man to Kissinger – who received packages from Howard Hunt and passed them on to Richard Helms. Colson stated that the impeachment hearings contain certain information related to a “MR. X” and that there is an affidavit stating that Hunt was bringing Ober packages through May of 1972, which were being passed on to Helms (Bill Gill of ABC News believes that the “MR. X” is, in fact, Ober). Colson indicated that although he did not know for sure, he believed the packages passed to Ober may have contained tapes. Colson bases his speculation on two things. The first relates to an NBC interview with Bernard Barker in April of 1972. Barker described being with Hunt during an interview with an individual in Miami who had been with Castro at the time Robert Kennedy was assassinated. Hunt had a tape recorder and when Barker asked Hunt what the tapes were for, Hunt replied that they were for the CIA (Bill Gill said that Hunt replied “taping for the old company”). The second basis for Colson’s speculation related to the time when Hunt met with David Shapiro while trying to see Colson to pass on a request for money. When Shapiro would not let Hunt see…
[LINES OF TEXT MISSING]
Colson mentioned Morton Jackson again and the fact that Hunt had had breakfast with Jackson the morning of the [Dr. Lewis] Fielding break-in and that the Greenspun capes had been planned in Jackson’s home.
On the subject of Lucien Conein, Colson stated he had reason to believe that the DEA activities abroad of the type we were interested in were being handled by Conein, e.g. kidnapping, assassination.
Senator Baker queried Colson as to whether he believed Mullen and Col. was CIA propriety citing the facts that Caddy operated out of it, the firm’s main clients were Hughes, the Free Cuba Committee and Rotary International. Colson also said that Mullen and Co. hired the people the CIA wanted it to.
Colson noted that the CIA Watergate file mentions that when Bob Bennett needed more money to hire a new man, the money was paid by Hughes rather than the CIA.
In response to a question by Senator Weicker, Colson stated that the CIA broke into the Chilean Embassy in the fall of 1971 to install wiretaps. The taps were shut off during the elections but resumed afterward to monitor information relating to trade delegations coming to the U.S. The taps were removed in May of 1973 because the CIA thought Dean knew of their existence. Colson mentioned that in April of 1972, McCord had called the Chilean Embassy to get himself wiretapped.
With respect to the CIA’s relationship with ITT, Colson recounted a statement by Geneen where Geneen said that “we’re putting our money to work with your boys in Chile.” Colson believes the CIA was very important. Later, Colson said he talked with Buzardt who told him to stay away from the CIA – that you can’t tell where Hughes begins and the CIA ends and that there are some big Republicans involved. Colson said he talked to Nixon twice after that and that Nixon told him to stay out of the matter – that someone in Colson’s office was feeding information to the CIA. Colson said that all of his conversations with Nixon had been subpoenaed, but only two were introduced. All the rest were withheld.
Colson said that in his conversations with Nixon, Nixon had an obsession about Hunt. In response to Colson telling Nixon to get out the Watergate story, Nixon kept referring to the trouble with Hunt arising out of Hunt’s contacts with Ehrlichman and Colson. This conversation occurred on February 13, 1973. In an earlier conversation on June 20, 1972 when Colson was telling Nixon to expose those involved in Watergate, Nixon told Colson that “they know about Hunt,” apparently, as Colson sees it, in an effort to slow Colson down. Colson remarked that the President’s obsession about Hunt and his contacts with Ehrlichman and Colson was expressed months before the evidence shows that Nixon had knowledge of the Ellsberg break-in (March 17, 1973).
Colson recounted Bennett’s inquiry to him about finding out what Maheau did with the $50,000 that was supposed to go to Rebozo, and whether or not Maheau had pocketed the money.
[LINES OF TEXT MISSING]
… one who recommended McCord for a job at CREEP.
Colson told of a February 28, 1973 meeting at the Watergate Hotel between Bennett and Eric Isenstead. Bennett said “I will take care of Ervin if you take care of Hunt”. A record of this conversation is in the CIA Watergate File.
Senator Baker inquired as to whether Colson had any knowledge of domestic assassination operations. Colson replied that he did not know but that such operations did go on overseas.
Colson said that the CIA had been trying hard to discredit Andrew St. George – that the agency was afraid of him.
Colson said we should look into the surroundings of the death of an Italian named Sarti, who was a major narcotics trafficker shot in Mexico about two years ago. Sarti bought his way out of jail and got to Mexico where he was shot. Colson said this case will show the other half of Conein’s operation.
Colson discussed certain private firms either owned by the CIA or used by the CIA. These include:
-- Intertel, a private detective firm in Washington owned by Hughes doing work for the CIA
-- Anderson Security Consultants – CIA propriety
-- Morton Jackson’s Law Firm
There was also mention of the firm of Wagoner and Baroody which came out of the firm of Down and Roosevelt – the latter having definite CIA ties.
Senator Weicker inquired as to whether Pepsico may have firm …
[LINES OF TEXT MISSING]
bona fides established but rather needed only to make the tie office …
Colson then began listing the areas we should explore more thoroughly:
-- Richard Ober – Believes his role was critical and that he would know what was being passed between Hunt and Helms.
-- Fritz Kramer and Jay Lovestone – Lovestone ran the CIA projects for the AFL-CIO. Kramer is Kissinger’s rabbi (who is somehow connected to Lovestone – this needs further exploration with Colson).
-- Clifford Irving Manuscript – Colson said that something in the Irving manuscript threw the White House, Bennett and Hughes into a panic. Hunt and McCord were approached by Hughes’ people to steal the manuscript. Hunt and McCord said they would need $55,000 for the job. Hughes people said “too much”, so the job was never pulled off. There was speculation around the table that by the time Hunt and McCord came around with the 55k figure, Hughes people may have bought off Irving. Colson believes Bill Safire had a copy of the manuscript.
Colson mentioned that Helms had gone out of his way to get Hunt placed in a job. After Hunt went to work at Mullen, he complained that his pay was not comparable to what he had been payed at the CIA. Bennett then raised his salary to a comparable level.
Colson said Hunt’s “casing” photos of the Fielding office were processed by the CIA. The photos were given directly to Helms with Fielding’s name circled.
Senator Baker asked Colson if he knew why Hunt had stopped at the Pentagon for two hours prior to leaving from Dulles on the Fielding break-in.
Colson’s speculation that Hunt’s and the CIA’s justification for supplying the wigs and other equipment to Hunt was fictitious.
Colson said he knows that the CIA gave Hunt the name of a lock picker in January 1972, and that the CIA gave Hunt Anderson Security Consultants to use on a security job for Hughes in Las Vegas.
Colson mentioned a July 10 memo from Lakowski (phonetic) of the CIA to files. The memo stated that Bennett said that he had a backdoor contact with Edward Bennett Williams and if the CIA approves Bennett will feed information to him to get the heat shifted away from the CIA to the White House and Colson. This Memo went to Helms, whose initials appear on it. Colson’s lawyer, Ken Adams, said that Williams asked things in the civil suit depositions that he could only have learned from Bennett. For example, Adams said that Williams first question to Hunt was whether Hunt had gone to Cappaquiddick to interview DeMott. Colson had testified about this before the grand jury but does not believe Williams got it from Silbert or Glanzer.
Colson referred to a list of Plumbers activities which had been shown to him by the FBI. The memo/list was dated August 31-71 and listed the projects which were being undertaken by the plumbers. One item had been blacked out. At the point Colson’s lawyers told the FBI that Colson was a defendant in the case, the FBI withdrew the document and terminated the interview. Colson’s lawyer made handwritten notes on the list which he will supply to me.
Sen. Weicker inquired of Colson’s knowledge of meetings in Mardian’s operation in the Internal Security division at Justice. Colson believed the CIA was into the operation, particularly pre-convention time – funneling information to Mardian. Colson…
[LINES OF TEXT MISSING]
break-in. Colson said Smyth had done some debugging work for him (this may need clarification).
Colson said Seymour Hush [Hersh?] had the CIA story plus much more back in January of 1974. Hush [Hersh?] called Colson and told him that Colby had spent two hours in his office confirming everything. This was during the time of the meetings Colson was having with Haig and Buzhardt.
Colson said he could go through the Helm’s testimony at his confirmation hearings and show where he committed perjury.
Colson said he was with Kissinger on June 14, at 8:00 A.M. after the Pentagon Papers broke. Colson said his log’s show he was with Kissinger on Tuesday the 15th and he is sure he was with Kissinger on Monday. Colson said Kissinger was going through the ceiling – that Kissinger was almost irrational. Colson feels that there is something more deep and personal to Henry Kissinger than the covers which were blown by the leak. Colson also told of Kissinger’s close relationship with Rockefeller and Kissinger’s use of Rockefeller’s facilities in conducting secret negotiations. Kissinger was consulting Rocky in this area. Colson at this time was conducting domestic negotiations for Kissinger.
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Senator BAKER. I have a great respect for Director Helms and if he says it was a brown wig, I believe him.
And you have identification papers; you have camera equipment; you have recording equipment; you have the processing of film; you have the making of prints; you have help in the assembling of the cables; you have your contact with General Cushman; you have Mr. Jackson, Mr. Morton Jackson, a former CIA agent whom you went to as your best friend farthest from Washington. The record is simply studded with that sort of thing.
Now, what I am really reaching for, Mr. Hunt, is a pretty important and crucial question, I judge. That is whether or not the CIA, wittingly or unwittingly, officially or unofficially, was in effect a support agency for your operation and others at the White House.
Do you care to characterize that it was or was not, under those circumstances, a support facility, in effect, for your operations?
Mr. HUNT. Well, under – certainly, the initial circumstances; yes, Senator.
Senator BAKER. Mr. Martinez was still on the payroll, I believe, as a consultant for the CIA.
Mr. HUNT. So I understand.
Senator BAKER. Were there other CIA involvements that I do not know about or I have not asked you about? Can you embellish that scenario any further?
Mr. HUNT. No, sir.
Senator BAKER. Would you if you could?
Mr. HUNT. Yes, sir.
Senator BAKER. I ask you if you had a letter of instruction on this project, which I understand to be a phrase of art in the intelligence community. Did the letter of instructions tell you what you should do if you got caught or did you have orders to that effect from anyone?
Mr. HUNT. No, sir, and by the way, a letter of instruction is only given by the Director to a chief of station, not to subordinate personnel.
Senator BAKER. But you understand that having been a chief of station?
Mr. HUNT. Yes, sir.
Senator BAKER. Did you have anything equivalent to a letter of instructions?
Mr. HUNT. No, sir.
Senator BAKER. Would you tell me if you did?
Mr. HUNT. Yes, sir.
Senator BAKER. Did Mr. Bittman tell you how he used that $156,000, how he disbursed it?
Mr. HUNT. How he disbursed it? I am sorry, I perhaps misunderstood it.
Senator BAKER. Mr. Bittman, your attorney, did he disclose to you …
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when he was preparing Mr. Hunt for grand jury testimony probably in April or May.
Mr. BUTLER. April or May 1973. All right. Thank you Mr. Bittman. Thank you, Mr. Chairman.
Mr. DONOHUE. Mr. Seiberling.
Mr. SEIBERLING. Thank you, Mr. Chairman. Mr. Bittman, what was the name of the attorney who referred Mr. Hunt to you as a client?
Mr. BITTMAN. Morton Jackson
Mr. SEIBERLING. And he was from Los Angeles?
Mr. BITTMAN. Yes, sir. He’s a personal friend of Mr. Hunt’s, represented him in the capacity as an attorney and as a member of a law firm. I don’t know how big it is out there. I didn’t meet him. I didn’t know him when he called me.
Mr. SEIBERLING. Do you know how much pension Mr. Hunt received from the CIA?
Mr. BITTMAN. No, sir; I do not.
Mr. SEIBERLING. Based on your observations of Mr. Hunt would you consider him to be an intelligent person?
Mr. BITTMAN. Yes, sir.
Mr. SEIBERLING. Would you consider that he had a reasonably or had a reasonably sophisticated perception of the things that motivate other people?
Mr. BITTMAN. I am not sure I understand that question.
Mr. SEIBERLING. Well, was he reasonably sophisticated about human nature?
Mr. BITTMAN. No, sir. Mr. Hunt was an operative and by operative I mean if he was given an order by a superior he would do it regardless of what it was.
Mr. SEIBERLING. Well, that isn’t quite the point of my question. My point is did he understand what motivates people?
Mr. BITTMAN. I just don’t think I understand the question. I don’t think I can answer it. I’m sorry.
Mr. SEIBERLING. I see. All right. I yield my time to M. Saranes.
Mr. SARBANES. Mr. Bittman –
Mr. BITTMAN. I will be happy to answer it, Congressman, if you can rephrase it again. I am not trying to avoid it.
Mr. SEIBERLING. Well, my only question was was he reasonably conversant with human beings so that he would understand –
Mr. BITTMAN. Well, he was conversant with human beings but he has lived a very bizarre life with the CIA for 21 years involved in covert activities so that’s all I can say.
Mr. SEIBERLING. Are you saying he didn’t have dealings with other people?
***
Page 9348
Mr. ARMSTRONG. What was the purpose of your trip in January of 1972?
Mr. HUNT. I am sure from that date that that was exclusively concerning the San Diego site or the forthcoming Republican convention.
Mr. ARMSTRONG. Was that the occasion of the contact with Mr. – what was his name? – Mr. Winte?
Mr. HUNT. I don’t know. We were out there pretty frequently. I wouldn’t think that that was it. I think the contact with Mr. Winte came later. If we could find out, for example, when Senator Muskie withdrew, we would know when the cutoff point was.
Mr. ARMSTRONG. Well, on that occasion you were registered as being – Mr. Liddy was registered – Mr. Leonard was registered as being from Hughes Tool Co.
Mr. HUNT. Well, this was probably not the only occasion when we used that leased wire.
Mr. ARMSTRONG. To make arrangements?
Mr. HUNT. Yes. Let me say this; we always got better accommodations when Hughes Tool made accommodations for us.
Mr. ARMSTRONG. You were back out there again February 19 or February 17, 1972. Do you recall the specifics?
Mr. HUNT. I don’t recall the specific purpose, no, sir. There was at least one occasion when Mr. Liddy told me that he had to go out to California and would I like to come along for the ride – expenses paid. And I said, “Sure.” That might have been the time.
Mr. ARMSTRONG. Are you aware of anyone that has done any clandestine work for the Hughes Tool Co.
Mr. HUNT. No, sir, other than Intertel.
Mr. ARMSTRONG. Other than Intertel in their paid capacity?
Mr. HUNT. I wouldn’t know of any, no, sir.
***
EXCERPTS FROM HEARING OF SEPTEMBER 11, 1973
Present: Terry Lenzner, assistant chief counsel; Scott Armstrong, investigator; and H. William Shure, assistant minority counsel; Sidney Sachs, counsel for Mr. Hunt.
Mr. ARMSTRONG. Was Mr. Morton Jackson aware of the nature of your business with Mr. Winte in Los Angeles?
Mr. HUNT. No.
Mr. ARMSTRONG. Or the fact that you had business with Hughes Tool Co.?
Mr. HUNT. No. I had no business with Hughes Tool Co.
Mr. ARMSTRONG. Had you projected business with Hughes Tool Co., that is had you hoped to do business with Hughes Tool Co.?
Mr. HUNT. I do not know that I did. I think that is a premise I would object to.
Mr. ARMSTRONG. Well, consulting with the Hughes Tool Co.?
Mr. HUNT. I would again reject that assumption, Mr. Armstrong.
Mr. SHURE. Do you have any relationship with the Hughes Tool Co.?
Mr. HUNT. I had been introduced to Mr. Winte, who is the chief security officer for the Hughes Tool Co. I had some conversation with him.
***
Page 3690
16.3 E. HOWARD HUNT TESTIMONY, SEPTEMBER 24, 1973, 9 SSC 3690
Mr. DASH. Now, did you hear from Mr. Liddy during this period of time?
Mr. HUNT. What period of time?
Mr. DASH. Shortly after, around June 19 or around that time?
Mr. HUNT. Yes, sir, I did.
Mr. DASH. What, if anything, did he tell you?
Mr. HUNT. Toward midday on the 19th, I got a telephone call from him at my Mullen Co. office saying that he needed urgently to meet me. We met at the corner of the USIA building, which I believe is at 17th and Pennsylvania Ave. We met, walked around the block. During the course of the conversation, he told me that it was necessary for me to get out of town, that “they” wanted me to get out of town.
Mr. DASH. Did he indicate who “they” were?
Mr. HUNT. Not at that time.
Mr. DASH. Then, was it a fact that that particular order was rescinded?
Mr. HUNT. He told me that it was.
Mr. DASH. Now, in fact, you did leave Washington, did you not?
Mr. HUNT. I did.
Mr. DASH. And did you ultimately go to California?
Mr. HUNT. I did.
Mr. DASH. At that time, did you make arrangements to obtain Counsel?
Mr. HUNT. I obtained local counsel in California, but not Washington counsel.
Mr. DASH. Well, in California, who did you meet, what California counsel?
Mr. HUNT. I was staying at the home of an attorney, an old friend named Morton B. Jackson. Mr. Liddy appeared out there unannounced on June 21. I reiterated my request to him that he or somebody obtain counsel for me in the Washington area. Mr. Liddy gave me $1,000 and said, this will help with Jackson.
I thereupon gave the $1,000 in cash to Mr. Jackson, retaining him as my counsel on the west coast.
Mr. DASH. And did Mr. Jackson refer you to any Washington lawyer?
Mr. HUNT. In due course, he did.
Mr. DASH. Yes, and what lawyer was that?
Mr. HUNT. He referred me some time later to two attorneys, neither of whom were known to, I believe, either Mr. Jackson or myself. Simply through an alphabetical process, I decided to retain, to inquire of Mr. Bittman whether or not he would be interested in representing me.
Mr. DASH. And did you retain Mr. William Bittman?
Mr. HUNT. I did.
Mr. DASH. And when did you first meet Mr. Bittman in Washington?
Mr. Hunt. On the night of July 3.
Mr. DASH. What was your understanding, Mr. Hunt, concerning legal fees and support of your family that you would receive? What general understanding did you have?
Mr. HUNT. At the time, Mr. Liddy appeared at the home of Mr. Jackson on June 21, I raised the question with him, as I had with…
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Charles Montague Cooke
by Wikipedia
Accessed: 6/10/20
Charles Montague Cooke
Circa 1909
Born: May 6, 1849, Honolulu, Hawaii
Died: August 27, 1909 (aged 60)
Occupation: Businessman
Spouse(s): Anna Charlotte Rice
Children: 8
Parent(s): Amos Starr Cooke; Juliette Montague
The Cooke family
Charles Montague Cooke (May 6, 1849 – August 27, 1909) was a businessman during the Kingdom of Hawaii, Republic of Hawaii, and Territory of Hawaii.
Life
Charles Montague Cooke was born May 6, 1849 in Honolulu, Hawaii. His father was Amos Starr Cooke...
co-founder of Castle & Cooke.
His mother Juliette Montague Cooke was the teacher of future leaders of the Kingdom of Hawaii at the Royal School. He was educated at Punahou School and Amherst Agricultural College where he roomed with friend William Owen Smith.
In 1871 Cooke worked as a clerk for his father's firm. He moved up to head bookkeeper. Castle & Cooke was one of the "Big Five" corporations that dominated the economy of the Territory of Hawaii.[1]
He married Anna Charlotte Rice (1853–1934) on April 30, 1874. In 1877 he became business partners with Joshua G. Dickson and Robert Lewers importing lumber and hardware. After Dickson died in July 1880, the firm became Lewers & Cooke. He was an investor in several sugar plantations in Hawaii, which became more profitable after the Reciprocity Treaty of 1875 removed tariffs.[2]
On January 18, 1893, immediately after the Overthrow of the Kingdom of Hawaii, he was appointed to an advisory council for the Provisional Government of Hawaii. On February 1 he was sent as a representative to Washington, DC in an unsuccessful attempt to have the United States annex the islands.[3] He was a founder in 1893 of the Bank of Hawaii with Peter Cushman Jones and Joseph Ballard Atherton (his brother-in-law).[4]
He moved to California expecting to retire in 1894, but returned and became Bank of Hawaii president in September 1898 after the death of Jones. In 1899 he also became president of C. Brewer & Co., another of the Big Five (Hawaii).[5]
Bernice Pauahi Bishop appointed him as one of the first trustees of the Kamehameha Schools, known then as the Bishop Estate. He served on its board from 1884 to 1897.[6] In 1904 he founded the Waikiki Aquarium[7], and in 1909 donated funds for the library at Punahou School. He kept his businesses intact through the Panic of 1907.[2]
Their children were:
1. Charles Montague Cooke, Jr. was born December 20, 1874, became a scientist, and died October 29, 1948.
2. Clarence Hyde Cooke (1876–1944) took over as president of the Bank of Hawaii.
3. William Harrison Rice Cooke (namesake of his father-in-law William Harrison Rice) was born in 1878 but died young in 1880.
4. George Paul Cooke was born December 2, 1881, married Sophie Boyd Judd (1883–1966), granddaughter of missionary Gerrit P. Judd, they had eight children, one of their sons was musician Francis Judd Cooke (1910–1995).[8] He died in 1960. Their great-grandson was baseball player Steve Cooke (Stephen Montague Cooke III).[9]
5. Richard Alexander Cooke was born January 24, 1884, married Dagmar Sorenseon [Sorenson] [1884-1962] in 1907, was executive at Bank of Hawaii and C. Brewer, and died in 1941. Their daughter-in-law Lorraine (Day) Cooke founded La Pietra school for girls.
6. Alice Theodora Cooke (1887–1968) married Philip Edmunds Spalding (1889–1968), for whom a building is named at the University of Hawaii at Manoa. Their home is now the Honolulu Museum of Art Spalding House (formerly The Contemporary Museum, Honolulu).[10]
7. Theodore Atherton Cooke (1891–1973) married Muriel Elizabeth Howatt (1891–1969).
8. Dorothea Cooke (twin of Theodore) was born August 23, 1891 but died young February 26, 1892.
He died August 27, 1909 after a second stroke.[11] Most of the family is buried at the Mission Houses Cemetery near Kawaiahaʻo Church.[12] A house he had built on Thomas Square in 1882 became the Honolulu Museum of Art. Anna Rice Cooke also left 4500 pieces of artwork they had collected to the academy.[13] His estate was incorporated as Charles M. Cooke, Ltd. in 1898, and dissolved and distributed to 58 shareholders in 1942. Some of the assets became the Charles M. and Anna C. Cooke Trust, which became a charitable foundation in 1971. In 1980, it became the Cooke Foundation. The Hawaii Community Foundation continues to administer grants.[14]
References
1. Castle & Cooke (1951). The first 100 years: a report on the operations of Castle & Cooke for the years 1851-1951. Castle and Cooke, Limited.
2. William Richards Castle (October 1906). "Charles Montague Cooke". The Friend. LXVI (12). pp. 14–15, 21.
3. "Cooke, Charles Montague office record". state archives digital collections. state of Hawaii. Archived from the original on 2012-03-20. Retrieved 2010-05-03. (combined with those of his son)
4. "About Bank of Hawaii". official web site. Bank of Hawaii.
5. George F. Nellist, ed. (1925). "Charles Montague Cooke". The Story of Hawaii and Its Builders. Honolulu Star Bulletin.
6. "First Trustees Appointed to Care for the Princess's Trust". official web site. Kamehameha Schools. Archived from the original on 2010-05-27. Retrieved 2010-05-03.
7. "History of the Waikiki Aquarium" (PDF). University of Hawaiʻi. 2009. Archived from the original (PDF) on 2010-06-21. Retrieved 2010-05-03.
8. John William Siddall, ed. (1921). Men of Hawaii: being a biographical reference library, complete and authentic, of the men of note and substantial achievement in the Hawaiian Islands. Honolulu Star-Bulletin. p. 107.
9. "Family forest for Thomas Emerson" (PDF). October 2008. Retrieved 2010-05-03.
10. "Philip Edmunds Spalding". Building Names official web site. University of Hawaii at Manoa.
11. "Charles M. Cooke Dead; Was a Leading Financier of Hawaii and a Multi-Millionaire" (PDF). The New York Times. August 28, 1909.
12. William Disbro (November 6, 2001). "Mission Houses Cemetery, Honolulu, Hawaii". US Genweb archives. Retrieved 2010-05-01.
13. Mike Gordon (July 2, 2006). "Anna Rice Cooke". Honolulu Advertiser. Retrieved 2010-05-03.
14. "Cooke Foundation, Limited: History". Archived from the original on 2011-10-03. Retrieved 2010-05-03.
15. "Finding Aid to the Rice Family papers, 1838-1964" (PDF). Kauai Historical Society.
16. "Cooke Family History and Kūaliʻi • Manoa Heritage Center". Manoa Heritage Center. Retrieved 2020-04-06.
External links
• "Private Sender Marks - Private Commercial Firms". Post Office in Paradise. Retrieved 2010-05-03.
• "Cooke Library". Punahou School official web site. Archived from the original on 2010-05-27. Retrieved 2010-05-03.
Further reading
• Josephine Sullivan (1926). Karl Clayton Leebrick (ed.). A history of C. Brewer & Company, limited: one hundred years in the Hawaiian Islands, 1826-1926. Walton Advertising & Printing Company.
• Clarence Hyde Cooke (1949). Charles Montague Cooke, 1849-1909. the author.
by Wikipedia
Accessed: 6/10/20
Charles Montague Cooke
Circa 1909
Born: May 6, 1849, Honolulu, Hawaii
Died: August 27, 1909 (aged 60)
Occupation: Businessman
Spouse(s): Anna Charlotte Rice
Children: 8
Parent(s): Amos Starr Cooke; Juliette Montague
The Cooke family
Hawaii's Big Five
C. Brewer & Co.
Theo H. Davies & Co.
Amfac
Castle & Cooke
Alexander & Baldwin
Charles Montague Cooke (May 6, 1849 – August 27, 1909) was a businessman during the Kingdom of Hawaii, Republic of Hawaii, and Territory of Hawaii.
Life
Charles Montague Cooke was born May 6, 1849 in Honolulu, Hawaii. His father was Amos Starr Cooke...
Amos Starr Cooke (December 1, 1810 – March 20, 1871) was an American educator and businessman in the Kingdom of Hawaii. He was patriarch of a family that influenced Hawaii during the 20th century.
Amos Starr Cooke was born in Danbury, Connecticut, December 1, 1810. His father was Joseph Platt Cooke (1760–1841) and mother was Annis Starr (died 1813). His grandfather Joseph Platt Cooke (1730–1816) served in the American Revolutionary War. Juliette Montague was born in Sunderland, Massachusetts, March 10, 1812. Her father was Caleb Montague (1781–1825) and mother Martha Warner. They were married November 27, 1836, and in less than a month in the 8th company from the American Board of Commissioners for Foreign Missions to Hawaii.The American Board of Commissioners for Foreign Missions (ABCFM) was among the first American Christian missionary organizations. It was created in 1810 by recent graduates of Williams College. In the 19th century it was the largest and most important of American missionary organizations and consisted of participants from Reformed traditions such as Presbyterians, Congregationalists, and German Reformed churches.
After some secessions due to the slavery issue and the movement of New School Presbyterian-affiliated missionaries to the Presbyterian Board of Foreign Missions, the ABCFM was left as a Congregationalist body after 1870. The American Board, as it was known continued to operate as a largely Congregationalist entity until the 1950s. In 1957, the Congregational Christian church merged with the German Evangelical and Reformed Church to form the United Church of Christ. As a part of the organizational merger associated with this new denomination, the ABCFM ceased independent existence and merged operations with other missions entities to form the United Church Board for World Ministries, an agency of the United Church of Christ....
The founding of the ABCFM was inspired by the Second Great Awakening.The Second Great Awakening was a Protestant religious revival during the early 19th century in the United States. The Second Great Awakening, which spread religion through revivals and emotional preaching, sparked a number of reform movements. Revivals were a key part of the movement and attracted hundreds of converts to new Protestant denominations. The Methodist Church used circuit riders to reach people in frontier locations. The Second Great Awakening led to a period of antebellum social reform and an emphasis on salvation by institutions. The outpouring of religious fervor and revival began in Kentucky and Tennessee in the 1790s and early 1800s among the Presbyterians, Methodists and Baptists....
It led to the founding of several well known colleges, seminaries and mission societies. The Great Awakening notably altered the religious climate in the American colonies. Ordinary people were encouraged to make a personal connection with God, instead of relying on a minister. Newer denominations, such as Methodists and Baptists, grew quickly....
Historians named the Second Great Awakening in the context of the First Great Awakening of the 1730s and 1750s and of the Third Great Awakening of the late 1850s to early 1900s. The Second and Third Awakenings were part of a much larger Romantic religious movement that was sweeping across England, Scotland, and Germany.
New religious movements emerged during the Second Great Awakening, such as Adventism, Dispensationalism, and the Latter Day Saint movement.
-- Second Great Awakening, by Wikipedia
In 1806, five students from Williams College in western Massachusetts took shelter from a thunderstorm in a haystack. At the Haystack Prayer Meeting, they came to the common conviction that "the field is the world" and inspired the creation of the ABCFM four years later. The objective of the ABCFM was to spread Christianity worldwide. Congregationalist in origin, the ABCFM also accepted missionaries from Presbyterian (1812–70), Dutch-Reformed (1819–57) and other denominations.
-- American Board of Commissioners for Foreign Missions, by Wikipedia
They sailed from Boston December 14, 1836, on the Mary Frazier and reached Honolulu on April 9, 1837.
The Cookes were put in charge of the Chiefs' Children's School. King Kamehameha III selected as students those who would be eligible for the throne based on their family background. Instruction was in English, and all five of the next ruling monarchs were students at the school. A complex of buildings was built to house the Cookes and students in 1840 as it became a boarding school. In 1846 it was renamed the Royal School, and became funded by the government.
In 1849 Cooke worked for Samuel Northrup Castle who had been a shipmate on the Mary Frazier as secular supply agent for the mission. As the American Board reduced funding for the Hawaii stations, he co-founded Castle & Cooke as a private company in June 1851. Edward Griffin Beckwith (1826–1909) became the next principal of the Royal School, as it opened to students of all races.
The business started as a general store, and continued as supply agents to the mission. Their store house is part of the Mission Houses Museum. Cooke made one trip to supply mission stations in the Marshall Islands and Gilbert Islands. In 1858 Cooke became a partner in the Haʻikū Sugar Company on the island of Maui. During the American Civil War in the 1860s, the company became an agent for selling sugar from the sugar plantations in Hawaii to the western United States. However, Cooke's health declined and he turned over his duties to Joseph Ballard Atherton who had started as a clerk in 1859.
Cooke died in Honolulu, March 20, 1871. The company went on to be one of the "Big Five" corporations that dominated the economy of the Territory of Hawaii.
-- Amos Starr Cooke, by Wikipedia
co-founder of Castle & Cooke.
Castle & Cooke, Inc., is a Los Angeles-based company that was once part of the Big Five companies in territorial Hawaii. The company at one time did most of its business in agriculture including becoming, through mergers the modern Dole Food Company, the world's largest producer of fruits and vegetables. In 1995 it was spun off from Dole and today most of the company's business is in real estate and residential, commercial, and retail development.
Castle & Cooke was founded in 1851 as a partnership between Samuel Northrup Castle and Amos Starr Cooke as a department store that sold farm tools, sewing equipment, and medicine. Joseph Ballard Atherton joined as clerk in 1858 and rose to become partner by 1865. Over the next few decades, the company invested heavily in Hawaii's sugar industry, running plantations in Kohala and Haiku. Atherton became president after the deaths of Cooke in 1871 and Castle in 1894, when the company incorporated. After the death of Atherton, George Parmele Castle (1851–1932) became president. G. P. Castle retired in 1916 and Edward Davies Tenney became chairman.
In the 1910s, the company, along with three other Big Five companies, invested in Matson Navigation Company.Matson, Inc. is a U.S. owned and operated transportation services company founded in 1882.
Matson, Inc.'s subsidiary Matson Navigation Company provides ocean shipping services across the Pacific to Hawaii, Alaska, Guam, Micronesia, the South Pacific, China and Japan.
Matson acquired the historic Moana Hotel (now part of the Moana Surfrider Hotel complex) and the Royal Hawaiian Hotel in Waikiki on the island of Oahu in 1932.
William Matson (1849–1917) founded Matson Navigation Company. He was born in Lysekil in Västra Götaland County, Sweden, and orphaned during childhood. He arrived in San Francisco after a trip around Cape Horn in 1867. Working aboard the Dickel family yacht, he struck up a friendship with tycoon Claus Spreckels, who financed many of Matson's new ships. In 1882 the three-masted schooner Emma Claudina ran to the Hawaiian Islands.
The enterprise began in the carrying of merchandise, especially of plantation stores, to the islands and returning with cargoes of sugar. This led to gradually expanding interests at both ends of the line....
For a brief period after World War II, Matson operated an airline using Douglas DC-4 aircraft between the Pacific Coast and Hawaii. The airline ultimately ceased operations because of political pressure from Pan American World Airways, which resulted in inability to obtain federal government scheduled operating authority....
In 2015 Matson, Inc. acquired Horizon Lines, formerly its main competitor in the United States domestic market, for $469 million.
Primarily a conveyor of freight, Matson also introduced into service a number of passenger liners to capitalize on the burgeoning tourist trade. In 1926 Matson took over the Oceanic Steamship Company, operating three trans-Pacific liners, including Sonoma.
-- Matson, Inc., by Wikipedia
Tenney became president of Matson after William Matson's death. In 1931, the company also bought a 21 percent share of the Hawaiian Pineapple Company, which was later renamed the Dole Food Company. After the death of Tenney, Alexander G. Budge became president in 1935. Castle & Cooke bought the remaining shares of Dole in 1961.
Between 1964 and 1968, Castle & Cooke acquired the Standard Fruit Company, adding bananas and other tropical fruits to its existing pineapple operations. In 1976, it acquired Bud Antle Inc., a California-based lettuce and celery farmer; it was renamed Dole Fresh Vegetables in 1989.
The company maintained Dole's large pineapple plantations throughout the state, including a particularly large one on the island of Lanai, where Castle & Cooke owned about 95 percent of the island.
In the decades that followed, Castle & Cooke began to face severe financial trouble as Hawaii's agriculture industry weakened. In 1985, the company merged with the Flexi-Van Corporation, a transportation leasing company. In 1991, the company was renamed Dole Food Company.
In 1995, the real estate operations of The Dole Food Company were spun off as the newly reformed company Castle & Cooke. The new Castle & Cooke was bought by Dole CEO, David H. Murdock, who remains the CEO of Castle & Cooke today.
On May 2, 2012 (made public in June), Oracle Corp. CEO Larry Ellison signed an agreement to buy most of the 6th largest Hawaiian island of Lanai from Castle & Cooke for $300 million.
-- Castle & Cooke, by Wikipedia
His mother Juliette Montague Cooke was the teacher of future leaders of the Kingdom of Hawaii at the Royal School. He was educated at Punahou School and Amherst Agricultural College where he roomed with friend William Owen Smith.
William Owen Smith (August 4, 1848 – April 13, 1929) was a lawyer from a family of American missionaries who participated in the overthrow of the Kingdom of Hawaii. He served as attorney general for the entire duration of the Provisional Government of Hawaii and the Republic of Hawaii.
-- William Owen Smith, by Wikipedia
In 1871 Cooke worked as a clerk for his father's firm. He moved up to head bookkeeper. Castle & Cooke was one of the "Big Five" corporations that dominated the economy of the Territory of Hawaii.[1]
He married Anna Charlotte Rice (1853–1934) on April 30, 1874. In 1877 he became business partners with Joshua G. Dickson and Robert Lewers importing lumber and hardware. After Dickson died in July 1880, the firm became Lewers & Cooke. He was an investor in several sugar plantations in Hawaii, which became more profitable after the Reciprocity Treaty of 1875 removed tariffs.[2]
On January 18, 1893, immediately after the Overthrow of the Kingdom of Hawaii, he was appointed to an advisory council for the Provisional Government of Hawaii. On February 1 he was sent as a representative to Washington, DC in an unsuccessful attempt to have the United States annex the islands.[3] He was a founder in 1893 of the Bank of Hawaii with Peter Cushman Jones and Joseph Ballard Atherton (his brother-in-law).[4]
He moved to California expecting to retire in 1894, but returned and became Bank of Hawaii president in September 1898 after the death of Jones. In 1899 he also became president of C. Brewer & Co., another of the Big Five (Hawaii).[5]
C. Brewer & Co., Ltd. was a Honolulu-based company that was once part of the Big Five companies in territorial Hawaii. The company did most of its business in agriculture.
The company was founded by Captain James Hunnewell (1794–1869) of Massachusetts in 1826, making it the oldest of Big Five companies. The company originally traded sandalwood with China. Henry A. Peirce joined in 1828 as a clerk, and worked his way up to a partner. Peirce took over when Hunnewell left in 1830. Charles Brewer (1804–1885), the master of Peirce's ships, became a partner in December 1835 and the business was known as Peirce & Brewer.
Peirce retired to a life as diplomat in 1843, and the company was renamed after Brewer, who shifted the company's focus to supplying whaling ships and general merchandise. Brewer ran the business with his nephew Charles Brewer II (1823–1863) until 1845, returned to Boston in 1849, on the ship that brought the first gold from the California Gold Rush. He continued to be an investor, and convinced Peirce and Hunnewell to rejoin him for a while....
In 1863, the company entered Hawaii's sugar cane industry, managing three plantations on Maui. Peter Cushman Jones became a partner in 1871, and its president from 1883 until 1891. In 1904, the company purchased the Pepeekeo Sugar Company on the island of Hawaii.
The company emerged to become one of Hawaii's Big Five companies, albeit the smallest. By 1925, after more consolidation, C. Brewer handled 25% of the islands' sugar and was one of Hawaii's largest corporate landholders. In 1930 the new C. Brewer headquarters building was built at 827 Fort Street in the heart of downtown Honolulu's business district which is on the National Register of Historic Places listings in Oahu. In 1959, seeing the need for further diversification, the company entered the macadamia nut industry, and in the 1990s produced the majority of the world's macadamia nuts under the name Mauna Loa Macadamia Nut Corporation.
-- C. Brewer & Co., by Wikipedia
Bernice Pauahi Bishop appointed him as one of the first trustees of the Kamehameha Schools, known then as the Bishop Estate. He served on its board from 1884 to 1897.[6] In 1904 he founded the Waikiki Aquarium[7], and in 1909 donated funds for the library at Punahou School. He kept his businesses intact through the Panic of 1907.[2]
Their children were:
1. Charles Montague Cooke, Jr. was born December 20, 1874, became a scientist, and died October 29, 1948.
2. Clarence Hyde Cooke (1876–1944) took over as president of the Bank of Hawaii.
3. William Harrison Rice Cooke (namesake of his father-in-law William Harrison Rice) was born in 1878 but died young in 1880.
4. George Paul Cooke was born December 2, 1881, married Sophie Boyd Judd (1883–1966), granddaughter of missionary Gerrit P. Judd, they had eight children, one of their sons was musician Francis Judd Cooke (1910–1995).[8] He died in 1960. Their great-grandson was baseball player Steve Cooke (Stephen Montague Cooke III).[9]
5. Richard Alexander Cooke was born January 24, 1884, married Dagmar Sorenseon [Sorenson] [1884-1962] in 1907, was executive at Bank of Hawaii and C. Brewer, and died in 1941. Their daughter-in-law Lorraine (Day) Cooke founded La Pietra school for girls.
Richard Alexander Cooke, Jr. (1914-1999)
Marriage: 1942
Nancy Louise Veitch (1922-2013)
PARENTS AND SIBLINGS
Richard Alexander Cooke (1884-1941)
Marriage:
Dagmar Sorenson (1884-1962)
Children (5)
Anna Karen Cooke (1909-1990)
Alice Montague Cooke (1911-1987)
Richard Alexander Cooke Jr. (1914-1999)
unknown Cooke (1916-1916)
Patricia Cooke (1926-1978)
-- Richard Alexander Cooke Jr. (1914-13 January 1999, by FamilySearch
6. Alice Theodora Cooke (1887–1968) married Philip Edmunds Spalding (1889–1968), for whom a building is named at the University of Hawaii at Manoa. Their home is now the Honolulu Museum of Art Spalding House (formerly The Contemporary Museum, Honolulu).[10]
7. Theodore Atherton Cooke (1891–1973) married Muriel Elizabeth Howatt (1891–1969).
8. Dorothea Cooke (twin of Theodore) was born August 23, 1891 but died young February 26, 1892.
He died August 27, 1909 after a second stroke.[11] Most of the family is buried at the Mission Houses Cemetery near Kawaiahaʻo Church.[12] A house he had built on Thomas Square in 1882 became the Honolulu Museum of Art. Anna Rice Cooke also left 4500 pieces of artwork they had collected to the academy.[13] His estate was incorporated as Charles M. Cooke, Ltd. in 1898, and dissolved and distributed to 58 shareholders in 1942. Some of the assets became the Charles M. and Anna C. Cooke Trust, which became a charitable foundation in 1971. In 1980, it became the Cooke Foundation. The Hawaii Community Foundation continues to administer grants.[14]
References
1. Castle & Cooke (1951). The first 100 years: a report on the operations of Castle & Cooke for the years 1851-1951. Castle and Cooke, Limited.
2. William Richards Castle (October 1906). "Charles Montague Cooke". The Friend. LXVI (12). pp. 14–15, 21.
3. "Cooke, Charles Montague office record". state archives digital collections. state of Hawaii. Archived from the original on 2012-03-20. Retrieved 2010-05-03. (combined with those of his son)
4. "About Bank of Hawaii". official web site. Bank of Hawaii.
5. George F. Nellist, ed. (1925). "Charles Montague Cooke". The Story of Hawaii and Its Builders. Honolulu Star Bulletin.
6. "First Trustees Appointed to Care for the Princess's Trust". official web site. Kamehameha Schools. Archived from the original on 2010-05-27. Retrieved 2010-05-03.
7. "History of the Waikiki Aquarium" (PDF). University of Hawaiʻi. 2009. Archived from the original (PDF) on 2010-06-21. Retrieved 2010-05-03.
8. John William Siddall, ed. (1921). Men of Hawaii: being a biographical reference library, complete and authentic, of the men of note and substantial achievement in the Hawaiian Islands. Honolulu Star-Bulletin. p. 107.
9. "Family forest for Thomas Emerson" (PDF). October 2008. Retrieved 2010-05-03.
10. "Philip Edmunds Spalding". Building Names official web site. University of Hawaii at Manoa.
11. "Charles M. Cooke Dead; Was a Leading Financier of Hawaii and a Multi-Millionaire" (PDF). The New York Times. August 28, 1909.
12. William Disbro (November 6, 2001). "Mission Houses Cemetery, Honolulu, Hawaii". US Genweb archives. Retrieved 2010-05-01.
13. Mike Gordon (July 2, 2006). "Anna Rice Cooke". Honolulu Advertiser. Retrieved 2010-05-03.
14. "Cooke Foundation, Limited: History". Archived from the original on 2011-10-03. Retrieved 2010-05-03.
15. "Finding Aid to the Rice Family papers, 1838-1964" (PDF). Kauai Historical Society.
16. "Cooke Family History and Kūaliʻi • Manoa Heritage Center". Manoa Heritage Center. Retrieved 2020-04-06.
External links
• "Private Sender Marks - Private Commercial Firms". Post Office in Paradise. Retrieved 2010-05-03.
• "Cooke Library". Punahou School official web site. Archived from the original on 2010-05-27. Retrieved 2010-05-03.
Further reading
• Josephine Sullivan (1926). Karl Clayton Leebrick (ed.). A history of C. Brewer & Company, limited: one hundred years in the Hawaiian Islands, 1826-1926. Walton Advertising & Printing Company.
• Clarence Hyde Cooke (1949). Charles Montague Cooke, 1849-1909. the author.
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Re: Freda Bedi Cont'd (#2)
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Introduction and Chapter 1. Welcome to India, from "All You Need is Love: An Eyewitness Account of When Spirituality Spread from the East to the West" [Excerpt]
by Nancy Cooke de Herrera
Foreword by Deepak Chopra
© 2003 by Nancy Cooke de Herrera
NOTICE: THIS WORK MAY BE PROTECTED BY COPYRIGHT
Introduction
My LIFE has been blessed. I have experienced the extraordinary in peoples, places, and situations, given birth to four happy, caring children, and loved from the depth of my soul. In spite of the loss of this great love, I found the path to peace and to the beauty of simplicity. I grew up in a family with a father, mother, grandfather, and two sisters. Our home in Northern California was supportive, loving, and close. This happy foundation encouraged me to later become an adventuresome risk-taker. One of the qualities I still possess today, which I am grateful for, is an insatiable sense of curiosity that's seemed to be inherent from birth. It is a fascination that has evolved from the innocence of a child to the understanding of a person attracted to spirituality out of a need to comprehend love and loss. I needed to know there is justice in the universe!
Shaken to the core, and left with four young children in Argentina after my husband, Luis's, death, I felt empty, abandoned, and alone. At the same time I knew there had to be a just reason for taking from me this magical person I so deeply loved. I could not face the word "eternity," which I saw carved on most headstones as I prepared for his burial. I wouldn't allow myself to think of never having contact with Luis again. There had to be something more.
Out of a genuine desire to comfort and support, a dear friend Biju Nehru from India, sent me a book, titled The Autobiography of a Yogi, about the life, teachings, and philosophy of Paramhansa Yogananda. His remarkable childhood, his encounters with many saints and sages during his search throughout India for an illumined teacher, the ten years of training by a revered yoga master, and especially his discussions on reincarnation, were all I needed to spark more than an interest in visiting his mystical homeland. So, it was not unexpected that seven years after Luis's death, I found myself, in 1962, landing in India to seriously begin my spiritual exploration.
In spite of obvious poverty, most Indians seem happy and energetic. They believe in something. Everyone has a little altar in his home for daily prayer. They live their spirituality. They love and help each other. Over and over again I witnessed the loving hospitality of these beautiful people. They may be poor, but they know about love.
Wandering through the mountain villages, and into the Valley of the Saints, I spoke with a variety of locals, holy men, and sages. Ultimately, I was directed by Swami Shivananda to Maharishi Mahesh Yogi, the founding father of Transcendental Meditation (TM). He would become my mentor, guru, and friend. We would travel the world together spreading his words of love, peace, and the benefits of meditation. I would become a teacher of TM, an "initiator," which I continue to be to this day. When The Beatles, the most popular music group at the time, came to the ashram in India to learn from Maharishi, it helped open the door to the Western mind about the value of meditation. It was an exciting time. Spirituality spread from the East to the West!
What transpired from that point to now has taken me through cathartic transformation time and again. When I started meditation, friends would often express dismay, "You're not sick, you're not that old! Why do you need such a crutch?" In later years many of these same persons came to me for help. Starting out, my goal was finding if justice does exist in the universe. Now I know it does; nothing happens by chance, and everything happens for a reason.
I am a person interested in spirituality, but still live fully in this world. I have given up nothing; I have added to my life. The "path of the householder" does not require withdrawal, as does the "path of the monk." I have experienced "inner bliss," and the consciousness of "being." I have learned that love is an essential but earned emotion, and a sense of guilt is a waste of time. "As we sow, so shall we reap." Would I have done things differently when I look back on the past? Maybe, but it has been a learning process. And on the path I have encountered some of the most enchanting and intriguing personalities.
Maharishi teaches we must learn it all -- life, death, and after death. He says, "To learn only about life, is like taking a course in oceanography and only studying the waves." Over the years many spiritual students and friends have asked me, " How did you find your path? What is different with TM from prayer or guided relaxation? What has it done for you?" In writing this book I hope I have answered many questions. It has been an exciting life, and who knows what lies around the next corner.
Gratefulness is said to be one of the most spiritual of words. For this opportunity to share with you, I am most grateful. So, come along with me through my initial turbulent trials to a place of serenity. I went out looking for answers, India taught me where to find them -- they were within me all the time.
As you travel your own path through life, may you remember, all you need is love and faith.
-- NANCY COOKE DE HERRERA
***
Part One: Changing Focus on Life
1. Welcome to India
ON A DARK, STARLESS NIGHT in March of 1962, I had a premonition that I was about to take a step into the unknown as my plane descended onto the landing strip of Delhi, India. I knew I was on a search for some deeper understanding of my own spirituality. I had finished the book, Autobiography of a Yogi, after my husband, Luis de Herrera's death. A close friend, Ambassador B.K. (Biju, as I called him) Nehru, the Indian Ambassador to the United States, had sent it to me as a token of consolation. He felt it might give some answers to my many questions at that time about what happened once we passed on from this life. While reading this book, I became enveloped with the desire to know the truth, if any, there was to the stories about life after death.
While reading the book, I not only became fascinated with the life of Yogananda, but also became inspired by the India described in the footnotes throughout, and thus set out to seek some answers that I sensed might be found in this exotic land. Having experienced such grief at Luis's loss, I wanted to find something more to believe in than the "hellfire and damnation" that seemed to be layered in the Christian books I had read. I needed to have some hope that somehow we would be together once more. The possibility of it fueled my sense of adventure. Would this mystical land supply me with answers to the questions that had haunted me for seven years? After all, India was known as the cradle of spiritual knowledge. It raised my curiosity enough that once again in my life, I found myself taking the risk to step out into the unknown.
Little did I know that in the next weeks, months, and years, my journey would take me from the origin of the Ganges to the Valley of the Saints and back home to California, and back again. Time after time. It became a continuum, like a circle -- no beginning, and no end. How was I to know that this particular trip would change my life forever?
I had been traveling around the world as a goodwill personality with the U.S. State Department giving lectures on customs, costumes, and cultures. I was known as the U.S. Ambassadress of Fashion, and therefore, was accustomed to being welcomed by governments with a full agenda of activities awaiting me. On this night, however, I was an unofficial visitor, strictly on my own. India was a new horizon for me. Not knowing a soul in this ancient and mysterious country, I prayed that my good friend Tom Slick would be there to meet me.
Three months had passed since our last communication about my coming -- would he show up? I was to meet Tom, a Texas oilman and parapsychologist, and our plan was to roam the Himalayan foothills together calling on lamas, swamis, and yogis. While Tom was searching for psychic phenomena, levitation, teleportation, and materialization, I would follow my own search.
When a steward opened the door of the plane, an earthy fragrance filled the cabin. A wave of insecurity washed over me as I climbed down the ramp and looked through the airport lights for the customs house. Then as the soft air caressed me, a thrill of anticipation pushed away my insecurities.
"I'm finally in India. This is the moment I have been waiting for."
I'd come directly from Tehran where, as a guest of the Shah of Iran, I had presented a fashion show to provide publicity for The New Path Society. This was a group of Iranian women who were attempting to ban the obligatory usage of the chador and the facial veil that the women had been wearing for centuries.
"Where is my natural love of adventure?" I silently asked, prodding myself into a confident air. "No matter what happens, it will be fine. If Tom's not here, I'll check into a hotel and in a few days go on to Bangkok."
We were herded into a low, tin-roofed shed glaring with fluorescent lights. A uniformed Indian reached for my suitcase keys, asking in clipped English, "Have you anything to declare, Memsahib?" I shook my head, indicating no, and scanned the crowd teeming in the balmy air around me. Standing nearly six feet tall, I looked out over the crowd but saw nothing familiar. "Oh please, Tom, be here. I have such expectations for this trip."
Emaciated bearers waited by the exit, their somber eyes scrutinizing the passengers. One porter placed three large suitcases on another's head. White-turbaned Sikhs with dark faces and curled up beards milled among brown-skinned women in bright saris. Then, finally, a broad, sunburned forehead framed by prematurely gray hair and mystical, silver-blue eyes peered through the congestion. A smile of recognition lighted the face.
"Tom, over here!" I pushed my way past the passengers. "Boy, am I glad to see you. I was wondering what I'd do if you were not here."
Tom gave me a hug and laughed. "Welcome to India," he said. "You look like a rhapsody in blue. And that blonde mane of yours is like a beacon in this place. You were easy to find."
While at Yale, Tom opted for a life of scientific research rather than the world of oil exploration. From a fortune in huge oil deposits discovered by his late father, he had the financial reserves to make such a choice.
He had established several important foundations, but his favorite was The Mind Science Foundation in San Antonio, Texas, and nothing was too unusual for him to consider. Several months before, I accompanied him looking for Bigfoot (also known as the Yeti, or Abominable Snowman) in the Trinity Alps, a primitive area of Northern California.
A well-built 5'9", Tom, intellectually and spiritually, was my soul mate. He challenged my horizons, he excited me with his ideas, and I felt safe with him. Romantically, time would tell. Neither of us was pushing for a commitment, although we had a close relationship. For now, I was thrilled by his presence.
Tom frowned at my four-inch heels. "Let's get you off those stilts and down to my size. From now on you'll be in hiking boots and khaki."
"I'll be delighted to get out of these clothes, but I had to make an elegant departure from Tehran."
"You will find plenty of material here for your next lecture series."
"I've already thought of that. My agent will make a new brochure with the pictures I'll bring back."
Tom signaled a turbaned porter to secure my bags, and soon we were in an old-fashioned taxi rattling into the night. Little could be seen in the darkness; wooden-wheeled bullock carts passed silently in the opposite direction, their shrouded drivers asleep as the animals patiently plodded along. There was almost no traffic, other than a stray cow or two.
Excitement had pushed away my fatigue. "Okay, I'm here ... ready to go ... when do we start?"
"Early tomorrow morning. But the first order of business is to get you to the hotel and to sleep. Later this afternoon, an Indian parapsychologist from Rajasthan University, Ranjit Ganguli, will join us. He'll bring a Yogiwho will demonstrate complete control over his body. While we take his pulse, he will stop his heartbeat for minutes; then he'll send blood to any part of his body we indicate."
"It sounds fascinating."
"It could be more than fascinating -- it could be very practical," he replied with a twinkle in his eye. I ignored his innuendo; my interest was on our travel plans.
"Later you can take a tour of the city, and tonight we go to a ball at the French Embassy."
"And tomorrow, where do we go?"
"To A1mora, in the mountains near the Tibetan border. Hopefully, we will find Lama Anagarika Govinda. Govinda is translating Buddhist works into books for Western readers. He's well-known in England where he lectures yearly."
This was particularly interesting to me. Previously, during a period of stress and indecision in my life, I had sought answers in Buddhist literature. However, even though the Buddhist emphasis on compassion attracted me, I found the writings unfathomable. I would need to learn a new language to understand the texts.
Religion had always fascinated me. At times this interest got me into trouble. During the seventh grade, while attending a private convent, I asked so many questions during catechism the nuns finally dismissed me from class and had me take art during that hour instead. Yes, I looked forward to meeting Govinda.
Soon our car turned off Jan Path, Delhi's main shopping thoroughfare, into a driveway lined with stately palm trees that led to the Imperial Oberoi Hotel. A magnificently uniformed Sikh doorman greeted us and led the way into a dark wood-paneled lobby, straight out of the thirties. It was inviting and appropriate. Again I noticed the smell of India. It seemed to impart a mixture of flowers, smoke, and earth.
An hour later, unpacked, bathed, and lying on cool sheets, I watched the ceiling fan turn slowly, my thoughts turning with it. "Am I really here resting on a hotel bed in India?" As far away from my family in California as I could be, I wondered what my three sons and daughter were doing. It was yesterday for them, I realized.
A flood of love and gratitude washed over me as I thought of Mother. By living with us, and with the help of our housekeeper, she made it possible for me to follow my career. My two sisters also lived nearby, completing this support system.
A year after my husband's death in Argentina, we left our home in Buenos Aires and all the happy memories it contained, and returned to San Francisco. It was a painful but correct decision, and now, seven years later, things were going well; my children were thriving, and I loved my profession, along with the financial stability it provided.
With this contented thought, and to the sounds of birds greeting the Indian day, jet lag won out and I fell into a deep sleep.
The next morning, Tom, Ranjit Ganguli -- an earnest young Indian -- and I set out on our journey in a brand new Dodge, a real luxury in India. Our Sikh driver, Kali, was so proud of his car that every time we came to a bump in the road he made us get out and walk. Then when the radiator boiled over, we found he didn't know how to open the hood.
"I think we're in for trouble," announced Tom. "We would have been smarter to stick to the Indian-made Ambassador car; every driver knows how to fix them."
We traveled over rough terrain, across the hot Ganges plain as we headed north. The hours passed rapidly, as everything was a feast for the eyes. Tom was an encyclopedia on India. "The first time I came here I hated it; the next trip I fell in love with it. It's important to meet this country properly." This was his eighth trip, so I knew I was in good hands.
At night while the driver slept in the car, Ranjit, Tom, and I shared Spartan sleeping quarters, usually a DAK bungalow, a kind of primitive cement hut built by the British for passing travelers. We bathed out of a bucket, and our beds consisted of four posts and a webbed frame over which we spread our bedrolls -- hardly conducive to flaming romance.
For food by day, I lived on hardboiled eggs, fresh oranges, bananas, and peanut butter, rather than eat in the dirty places available. "If you stick to Punjabi food straight out of the boiling oil, you will be safe," cautioned Tom, but I treasured my powdered milk and the other staples I'd picked up in Delhi. At night we'd get the DAK bungalow attendant to buy fresh vegetables, which were plentiful, and cook our meal over a small fire in front of us. This way I knew what we were eating -- I was taking no chances with dysentery.
Soon snow-capped mountains were visible, but it was slow going. We had just spent a day waiting for a mechanic to come from a far away village to fix the car. Tom had had it with delays; he decided to go on without the troublesome Dodge or its driver. "Kali will go back and we will continue by bus."
The bus was memorable. The windows were so dirty one could hardly see out. A leathery-faced old hillsman sat backwards, cleaning his teeth with a stick and staring at me without interruption.
"You are a one-woman show for him," laughed my companion. "He may never have seen blue eyes before."
The bus driver rarely took his hand off the horn. Women got on with naked babies, and everyone took turns helping the mothers. It didn't matter that the baby would wet the pants of the obliging passenger. Everyone laughed and chatted. I felt as though I were on the "Toonerville Trolley." When we came to villages, we got down to tend to bathroom necessities -- it was my introduction to standing on two footblocks and squatting.
It was getting cold as we gained altitude. "Look at that, Tom, I'm impressed! In spite of this chilly weather, those people are bathing. They wash their few rags and then put them on again."
He explained, "It's part of the Hindu religion to bathe daily, even if it means going into a cold river. You rarely smell any body odor amongst the hill people."
There was constant activity in the villages. Everyone seemed to have a job to do. "These people don't seem to be starving, as most Westerners think," I remarked.
"It is all worked out on a barter system. When statistics report that the average Indian lives on only two rupees a day, it's misleading."
Finally we arrived in the hill station of Almora. The imprint of the British Raj still remained in the architecture of what had originally been summer residences. Lama Govinda's home was another five miles of walking. So huffing, puffing, and suffering in the thin, cold air at 6,000 feet, we traversed the final mountain slope astonished by the magnificent scenery around us.
With no means of communication, there was no way to ascertain that the Lama would be there, or that he would receive us. Tom explained the term lama as when a Buddhist monk becomes a teacher and has a following, he earns the title of lama.
Finally, a small stone house came into view. A tall pole stood between the building and us. From its top fluttered long white clothes covered with strange print. Tom explained, "These are Buddhist prayer flags. Each Tibetan family has its own prayer mark; they use it to stamp cloth after cloth until they create a whole grove of flags as evidence of their devotion. As the wind blows, the prayers flutter their way up to heaven." I thought, "What fun to do this at home."
The heavy rough-hewn front door opened and a thin, angular-faced European woman stood on the threshold. With long, flowing robes and her hair tucked into a hood that arched over her dark-rimmed eyes, she could have been from another century. Hardly pausing to study us, she tipped her head to the side with a smile and said, "I am Li Gotami, the lama's wife. My husband is working, but he will be pleased to receive you." We felt such relief at her welcome.
Li Gotami escorted us into a small, bare room. The whitewashed, stone walls bore the scant decoration of mandalas, portraits of monks, and mountain scenes. There was little furniture on the stone floor. Thangkas, Tibetan scrolls, hung from the ceiling.
On a carpeted platform, spotlighted by sunshine beaming through a tall window, sat a frail figure. Above his burgundy and saffron robes, the man wore a loose wool cap, which hung below his ears and rose to a point high over his head. This framed a thin face with bushy eyebrows, deep-hollowed blue eyes, and an aquiline nose. A thin white beard hung from the tip of his chin. This was Govinda; born to German parents in Bolivia, he was, at 64, the most revered Western-born lama.
I followed Tom's example and greeted him with my hands pressed together -- prayer like -- in namaste fashion, the traditional Indian salutation. Then I ventured, "Mi querido Padre. Con mucho gusto conocerle."
"Gracias -- y yo tambien, Senora."
Govinda inquired about my Spanish and how I happened to have a name like de Herrera.
"My late husband was an Uruguayan."
Govinda bobbed his head enthusiastically. "Yes, yes ... I know that continent well. My grandfather was a comrade in arms to Simon Bolivar, one of the gran libertadores of South America." With this, he gestured for us to sit on cushions lying on the floor.
"Your Holiness," Tom said, introducing himself. "I have come to you for help. I am seeking proof of psychic and physical phenomena that can be repeated under scientifically controlled conditions at my Mind Science Foundation in Texas. I believe that if we can demonstrate these abilities in a manner beyond dispute, we will be able to get our foot in the door of the Western mind and open up new realms for exploration."
Govinda's face exhibited little. He drew Tom out, asking him to enlarge on some of his points. Then he seemed to make up his mind; evidently he would trust this stranger's motives and talk freely. I felt relief; I'd been praying for four days that this would not be a false lead.
"To us Buddhists, such attempts to 'prove' extrasensory perception through scientific tests seem crude and laughable. The conditions for these experiments are in themselves the greatest hindrance to any success." Govinda's cheeks flushed. He paused and cleared his throat. "By reaching for objectivity, you exclude the emotional and spiritual elements of the human mind, without which no state of real contemplation can be created."
We were jolted by his concise appraisal. Seeing the expression on my face, Govinda softened his voice. "In Tibet, our concentration and psychic sensibility is greatly increased in the solitude and silence of nature. The mind is not blunted and diverted from itself by the noise and activity of modern life. Rather, it becomes spiritually attuned and can enter into a silent communication with other attuned minds." His eyes shifted back toward Tom as he gently added, "Thus, telepathy is common among Tibetans."
Tibetan children at the Self-Help Center (Mussoorie, India)
Whether it was the musky incense or the conviction of this uncommon man, I sensed myself slipping into another dimension. Govinda continued, "Whenever the object of concentration comes before the mind, it takes on a greater reality and can then be held and contemplated with full attention. The past is telescoped into the present and the present shows itself not as a dividing line between a past that has died and a future that has yet to be born, but as a single aspect of the co-existence and continuous body of living experience in four dimensions .... "
"Do you believe in the existence of the fourth dimension?"
"It is amusing, young man, that just two weeks ago a Professor Heisenberg came here to ask me about that subject."
"Heisenberg!" I was astonished. Recently I had read an article about Heisenberg, the discoverer of quantum physics. I almost shouted, "The man who won the Nobel Prize? Do you mean he came all the way here?"
Govinda nodded, "Yes, that is the same man. Apparently, modern mathematicians are reaching such complicated answers they need to learn about the fourth dimension in order to explain them. They know we understand this dimension." He smiled as he shared this confidence.
Excitedly, Tom pursued the topic and soon the lama was describing one of his own psychic experiences. He related how lung gumpa, the Tibetan walking levitation, came over him once in a perilous situation and brought him back to safety ... he was able to walk across a lake!
Tom concentrated on getting an exact description of the event, but I felt he was ignoring the state of mind, which evokes such feats-the physical phenomenon was but the momentary effect of a mental state, which could have far greater implication in our lives. Govinda was showing us a path to unlimited possibilities. Casting aside my timidity, I asked, "Your Holiness, if one is interested in seeking spiritual knowledge, how should one begin?"
"First you must practice meditation, my lady. Meditation is essential for the evolution of the soul."
"But how do I learn this?" The cushion on the floor was no longer un-comfortable.
"You will need a teacher. He will teach you ... there are many forms of meditation. Some use the breath, some a mantra, some use colors .... "
"What is a mantra?"
"It is a sacred sound vibration which awakens and stimulates the intuitive qualities of the mind. But leave this to your guru; he will know what is best for you." His eyes penetrated mine as he said, "Always remember, your guru will be in a mortal body and only be a certain percent divine; so forgive his weakness and keep your eye on the divine."
"Your Holiness, do you believe in reincarnation?"
He smiled, "Yes, we believe the soul evolves through many lifetimes."
Later, Tom said that was like asking the lama if he breathed. But I wasn't discouraged; I had to begin somewhere. Ever since my husband's death, I had been looking for assurance that there is justice in the universe. I had already concluded it involved more than one lifetime to work out that justice, so Govinda's words encouraged me.
Later that afternoon as we descended the mountainside, I felt as if I were walking on clouds. I was dizzy and my vision out of focus. The world around me seemed like a Van Gogh painting. I could see swirls spinning in cartwheels against the alpenglow. Everything was in motion.
"Tom, I don't know what's happening. I have such a strange feeling, as if I were drunk."
He laughed, "You have become 'sensitized.' Just by sitting near such a saintly man, you receive his darshan, the energy, the good vibrations."
"I feel as though my heart will break open, it's so full of happiness. Boy, if we could ever bottle this, we'd retire for life!"
"Speaking of bottles, is that a bottle of scotch I see in that store?" We had come into a local center; on both sides of the road were little stall-like shops. This particular shop sold everything from soap to incense -- and scotch. The Haig and Haig was dirty but intact. The proprietor said he'd had it for over ten years. "I bet he was getting worried that he'd never sell it," said Tom.
Later we celebrated in the men's waiting room at the railroad station, where we spent the night on benches. There were no hotels, and I refused to stay alone in the women's section. From my knapsack I produced a can of caviar I'd brought from Iran. We had a party while Ranjit looked on with distaste. I don't know whether it was due to our repast, or due to the fact that I, a woman, was in the men's room.
The morning train took us to Dehradun, a former site of a major British cantonment. After a splendid cup of tea, it was the bus again, this time to Hardwar, the second most holy place in India, located on the banks of the Ganges. As it was my first glimpse of the sacred river, I insisted on running down the ghat steps and wading in the water before we started our search for a revered yogi Tom had been told about.
We had a name and no directions, but miraculously we found him sitting on top of a cement temple, his naked body baking in the sun.
After Ranjit convinced him in Hindi, the little dried-up man begrudgingly agreed to talk to us. He asked for a glass of water to illustrate his point. When the glass appeared, we were each requested to touch the water. The yogi then held it quietly, and we watched the liquid turn solid! Ranjit then asked us to touch it again to verify that it was now ice. We were thunderstruck] We had not expected anything like this. The man wore only a loincloth, had no props, it was a hot day, and we were not hypnotized.
The holy man told Ranjit, "Water is made up of so many molecules of hydrogen and oxygen. Ice is the same; all I have done is to change the characteristic of the water by altering the rate of vibration of the molecules."
Scowling, he continued, "You are scientists; can you control nature peacefully? You will destroy the world with your science; leave this place and bother us no more, or stay and learn union with God." His eyes shut in dismissal.
Later, in a noisy taxi we debated about what we'd seen. "There is no scientific explanation for what we have just observed." I had majored in chemistry at Stanford; I was scientifically oriented.
"Agreed, but the title yogi is given only after the individual demonstrates his ability to control nature," Tom pointed out. "That old boy sure earned his credentials. If only I'd had a movie camera."
"Someone would insist you'd faked it," I consoled, but I knew we had just witnessed something that was impossible.
Tom was in high spirits ... now he knew this expedition would make history. "Our next goal is to find a swami named Sivananda who lives in Rishikesh." It was 13 miles north of Hardwar over a windy road full of potholes, which did not slow down our driver for a minute. He roared through the congestion of carts, animals, bicycles, and horsedrawn tongas, buggies, overloaded with passengers. Tom chuckled as I held my breath and prayed. "I don't think it's our karma to be killed on the way to The Valley of the Saints."
"The hell with our karma, what if the driver thinks it's good for his karma to die in such a holy place?"
It's called The Valley of the Saints because of the holy men who live there near the headwaters of the Mother Ganga. The valley is dotted with numerous temples and ashrams, or religious academies. Most of these clustered near the town, perched on the river bank. Sivananda, the most revered of the saints, had the largest ashram in this spiritual center.
The streets were lined with small wooden stalls. Through the car window I could make out piles of vegetables, dried grains, brassware, brightly colored yard goods, religious objects, and crudely made household tools. Men haggled over prices while others gathered around open braziers, where turbaned Sikhs prepared vegetable dishes in wok-like pans filled with spitting hot oil. The enticing scent of curry was everywhere.
Suddenly our driver screeched to a halt. Ahead, like a sea of dirty laundry, swirled an impenetrable confusion of carts and pedestrians. He turned his sweat-beaded brow to Tom and said, "You walk now, Sahib."
Tom leaned forward, "How will we find The Divine Life Forest Academy?"
"No problem, Sahib. It is very close." He pointed to a street corner about a hundred yards away, "There turn right, walk down to river embankment and turn left. Ashram easy to find." The din enveloped his singsong English as Tom opened the door. I put my dark glasses on to ease the glare and keep out the dust. Beggars and hawkers ran up trying to attract our attention and money. Tom grabbed our daybag and pulled me by the hand, ignoring pleas and gestures of baksheesh.
There were no sidewalks, so we zigzagged down the center of the dusty, clay road -- retreating to the sides every few steps to avoid rickshaws and carts. Making our way slowly, we encountered a group of lepers sitting on the side of the street. They were horribly disfigured. Some balanced their dented cups between handless limbs; without lips or noses they pleaded for alms. Others held out their walking sticks to bar our passage and force a gift from us. I froze, not wanting to touch anything they had handled.
"Here, take these small coins," Tom said, forcing them into my paralyzed hand, "Put one in each cup and they'll leave you alone."
I did what he said, but tried not to look at the pathetic creatures. It was hard to realize they were human -- this thought made me feel guilty. "Oh, Tom, why must people exist in such horrible condition?"
"Yes, I know, but the Indian government does provide a place for lepers to live."
"Can you imagine what those places are like if they'd rather live here and beg?"
We began to walk faster. Just before the corner a rickshaw backed us against the wall; I felt a hand lightly tap my shoulder, "Baksheesh, Memsahib?"
I spun around to see a naked man daubed all over with ashes. His black hair was coiled on top of his head and a huge live snake hung from his neck. I gasped and threw my last coins at him.
Tom tugged me around the corner; nothing seemed to faze him. "The driver said to turn here ... " The crowd thinned out as we descended toward the swiftly flowing waters of the Ganges. Across the wide river whitewashed domes and temples fringed the far bank. All appeared empty except for one huge building, which was entirely covered with ornate printing.
"What's that?" I asked.
"It is the Gita Bhavan. A wealthy and devout Hindu built it to shelter those who want to study the Bhagavad Gita and other scriptures. The decorative printings are Vedic quotes."
Suddenly on our left was a high wall. Crude brick stairs ran up its side and ended in a gated archway. Square black letters surrounded by colored lights announced Sivananda's ashram.
We must have been observed climbing the stairs, for as we crossed the stone courtyard, a gaunt, dark Indian in white robes came out of a room on the far side and walked toward us in greeting.
"I am Chidananda, secretary and disciple to His Holiness Swami Sivananda." When he heard why we had come, he smiled, "You are in luck. His Holiness has just come out of a long meditation and will be giving an audience shortly. But we must hurry."
We followed him into the main building and down a stairway to a basement called the "meeting cave." He seated us on a wooden bench against a cold, damp wall, and excused himself. Other disciples, or chelas, of the Swami, Westerners mostly, had already gathered in the room. They sat on pillows strewn about the earthen floor. Their heads were shaven and their white robes bespoke their devotion. Tom and I shifted on our bench, trying to be comfortable without leaning against the wet wall.
Little light came into the cave and many candles were burning. Smoke mingled with the sinuous trails of incense and the sweet aroma of flowers. Potted plants were clustered near a chair at one end of the room. Mildewed and peeling whitewashed walls were heavily decorated with religious paintings depicting blue Krishnas, photographs of sadhus, or holy beggars, and figurines of animal-headed gods. Between these hung garlands of dusty artificial flowers. Some of the chelas sat in the lotus posture with their eyes closed, their hands cradling a humble offering to their master. Others lounged, talking to their colleagues, glancing at us with interest. There were about 20 in all.
Chidananda reappeared at a door near the chair. Turning and looking expectantly back through the opening, he slowly retreated from the entrance. "The master is coming," he announced quietly. The students jumped to their feet and held out their offerings, making short, shallow bows and uttering low chanting sounds.
A broad, hairless, yellow-brown head floated calmly into the room. Chelas threw themselves to the floor to kiss Sivananda's feet. The massive holy man slowly made his way through the commotion, waving blessings to all. He accepted fruit and flowers from those in his path, while others stood behind him, bestrewing his coat with rose petals. Finally, when he stood before his chair, he motioned for everyone to sit and then did so himself.
A disciple picked his way through the crowd and received permission to place a heavy garland of orange targate flowers around the Swami's neck. Sivananda put his feet on a stool, revealing velvet boots. He beamed as he slowly reviewed his congregation. A camel-hair coat magnified his immense frame. His brown eyes appeared slightly crossed behind a bulbous nose, but this did not negate a powerful, confident demeanor.
When his gaze came around to us, he called Chidananda to his side. Learning who we were, he welcomed us to his ashram in good English. He instructed his secretary to take the garland from his shoulders and to place it on mine. Everyone turned to look at me; it was an honor, but it was heavy and I felt like a horse that had just won the Derby.
Sivananda intoned to his chelas, "Come, let's have one of you rise and tell our guests what you have learned here at the Academy." Not one, but more than half the gathering stood up in turn and told of their gratitude and love for their master, for the wisdom he bestowed on them. Then the Swami began a discourse. He pitched his comments toward Tom, turning to us while describing the achievements of science.
Taking advantage of a pause, Tom asked rhetorically if scientific knowledge was leading to peace. The answer came back, "No, to destruction! In order to generate peaceful vibrations, one must possess individual tranquility, which alone will pave the way to world peace. This requires self-discipline ... this is what we practice here."
Giving Tom a confident smile, he concluded, "A scientist without discipline is a danger to the world. You should learn to meditate."
My thoughts went back to the irate "ice yogi." Evidently, science was a dirty word in the Valley. How differently Lama Govinda had received Tom as a scientist.
Tom was nonplused by the Swami's ardor, but asked, "Your Holiness, could you explain about meditation? What does it offer a scientist?"
"What are the benefits of meditation?" A smile flickered across his face, and he played to the crowd. He talked at length about meditation and its goals. "Meditation helps the mind to rule the senses and the practitioner to control his mind." This quickly led into a description of the path to God-realization, and, prompted by questions from the chelas, to comments on the Divine Presence, Advaitic Unity, Sadhana -- Atmic Glory -- we were lost. Was he speaking English? The garland got heavier. I was tempted to take it off, but was afraid of insulting some tradition.
When the discourse ended, Sivananda came over and sat between Tom and me, ordering a chela to take a picture. An ancient camera was produced which made a flash and a puff of white smoke. Only when he took leave of us did I notice his wrinkled hands and realize he was a very old man.
As the Swami left, the students chanted and rang small bells ... they ignited powders and passed around strange things to eat, combinations of seeds, pastes, and dried fruits. Leery of food prepared by unclean hands, I took no chances, and, pretending to eat, dropped what I was given inside the front of my blouse.
After Sivananda retired, Chidananda came over and sat next to me. "What did you think of Swamiji?" He used the suffix-ji, which I had learned was a form of endearment.
There being no point in pretense, I said, "My impressions are somewhat negative. All the ritual and the kissing of feet are simply not for me."
Chidananda's face showed compassion. "Yes, I could see that in your expression. There is much you do not understand." He gestured for Tom to listen and continued. "If Swamiji could have his way, none of this obeisance would take place. When he first came out of the forest where he lived for years in solitude, people fell to the ground to kiss his feet. He had no choice but to let them show their devotion to him in such humble ways, or they felt themselves unworthy."
That seemed rational to me. He then went on to tell us about the Academy and its students, and describe their practice of self-discipline. He encouraged me to ask questions and later, as he escorted us to the gate, asked me, "Did you ever think of finding a guru for yourself?"
"Yes, I'm looking for a teacher to guide me, but I'm not ready to renounce my worldly life. It's a dilemma for me."
Chidananda's eyes darkened, "Yes, it is hard to renounce." Then he brightened and offered, "Perhaps I can help you. There is a swami, very respected by Sivananda, with an ashram across the river who appeals to Western students. He teaches the path of the householder, and requires no withdrawal from worldly activity. You might talk with him; his name is Maharishi Mahesh Yogi. Perhaps he will be the teacher for you. If not, do not worry, we have a saying here: 'When the chela [student] is ready, the master appears.'''
We bid the friendly holy man goodbye and headed for the river to find the man named Mahesh. Tom was just as curious as I. A barge-like boat was departing for the opposite bank and we asked if we could ride along; already overcrowded, the passengers made room for us. Quietly, numerous pairs of dark eyes stared at us. I tried to pull myself in from being touched by the ash-covered saint sitting next to me.
Tom had explained, "The ashes keep him warm."
A small child extended her hand to my hair. Her mother explained, "Please excuse my daughter. She has a doll with hair like yours, and wants to touch it." We laughed and answered her questions as to where we were from and what we were doing there. Before long we reached the other side and asked a kind-looking man on the shore where we might find Mahesh and directions to the ashram.
"Oh, you are too late. Maharishi has just left for California. It is a pity; he is a very respected teacher."
So we were saved a climb up the hill. Little did I know then how many times I would return to this exact place in the future and make that climb.
by Nancy Cooke de Herrera
Foreword by Deepak Chopra
© 2003 by Nancy Cooke de Herrera
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Introduction
My LIFE has been blessed. I have experienced the extraordinary in peoples, places, and situations, given birth to four happy, caring children, and loved from the depth of my soul. In spite of the loss of this great love, I found the path to peace and to the beauty of simplicity. I grew up in a family with a father, mother, grandfather, and two sisters. Our home in Northern California was supportive, loving, and close. This happy foundation encouraged me to later become an adventuresome risk-taker. One of the qualities I still possess today, which I am grateful for, is an insatiable sense of curiosity that's seemed to be inherent from birth. It is a fascination that has evolved from the innocence of a child to the understanding of a person attracted to spirituality out of a need to comprehend love and loss. I needed to know there is justice in the universe!
Shaken to the core, and left with four young children in Argentina after my husband, Luis's, death, I felt empty, abandoned, and alone. At the same time I knew there had to be a just reason for taking from me this magical person I so deeply loved. I could not face the word "eternity," which I saw carved on most headstones as I prepared for his burial. I wouldn't allow myself to think of never having contact with Luis again. There had to be something more.
Out of a genuine desire to comfort and support, a dear friend Biju Nehru from India, sent me a book, titled The Autobiography of a Yogi, about the life, teachings, and philosophy of Paramhansa Yogananda. His remarkable childhood, his encounters with many saints and sages during his search throughout India for an illumined teacher, the ten years of training by a revered yoga master, and especially his discussions on reincarnation, were all I needed to spark more than an interest in visiting his mystical homeland. So, it was not unexpected that seven years after Luis's death, I found myself, in 1962, landing in India to seriously begin my spiritual exploration.
In spite of obvious poverty, most Indians seem happy and energetic. They believe in something. Everyone has a little altar in his home for daily prayer. They live their spirituality. They love and help each other. Over and over again I witnessed the loving hospitality of these beautiful people. They may be poor, but they know about love.
Wandering through the mountain villages, and into the Valley of the Saints, I spoke with a variety of locals, holy men, and sages. Ultimately, I was directed by Swami Shivananda to Maharishi Mahesh Yogi, the founding father of Transcendental Meditation (TM). He would become my mentor, guru, and friend. We would travel the world together spreading his words of love, peace, and the benefits of meditation. I would become a teacher of TM, an "initiator," which I continue to be to this day. When The Beatles, the most popular music group at the time, came to the ashram in India to learn from Maharishi, it helped open the door to the Western mind about the value of meditation. It was an exciting time. Spirituality spread from the East to the West!
What transpired from that point to now has taken me through cathartic transformation time and again. When I started meditation, friends would often express dismay, "You're not sick, you're not that old! Why do you need such a crutch?" In later years many of these same persons came to me for help. Starting out, my goal was finding if justice does exist in the universe. Now I know it does; nothing happens by chance, and everything happens for a reason.
I am a person interested in spirituality, but still live fully in this world. I have given up nothing; I have added to my life. The "path of the householder" does not require withdrawal, as does the "path of the monk." I have experienced "inner bliss," and the consciousness of "being." I have learned that love is an essential but earned emotion, and a sense of guilt is a waste of time. "As we sow, so shall we reap." Would I have done things differently when I look back on the past? Maybe, but it has been a learning process. And on the path I have encountered some of the most enchanting and intriguing personalities.
Maharishi teaches we must learn it all -- life, death, and after death. He says, "To learn only about life, is like taking a course in oceanography and only studying the waves." Over the years many spiritual students and friends have asked me, " How did you find your path? What is different with TM from prayer or guided relaxation? What has it done for you?" In writing this book I hope I have answered many questions. It has been an exciting life, and who knows what lies around the next corner.
Gratefulness is said to be one of the most spiritual of words. For this opportunity to share with you, I am most grateful. So, come along with me through my initial turbulent trials to a place of serenity. I went out looking for answers, India taught me where to find them -- they were within me all the time.
As you travel your own path through life, may you remember, all you need is love and faith.
-- NANCY COOKE DE HERRERA
***
Part One: Changing Focus on Life
1. Welcome to India
ON A DARK, STARLESS NIGHT in March of 1962, I had a premonition that I was about to take a step into the unknown as my plane descended onto the landing strip of Delhi, India. I knew I was on a search for some deeper understanding of my own spirituality. I had finished the book, Autobiography of a Yogi, after my husband, Luis de Herrera's death. A close friend, Ambassador B.K. (Biju, as I called him) Nehru, the Indian Ambassador to the United States, had sent it to me as a token of consolation. He felt it might give some answers to my many questions at that time about what happened once we passed on from this life. While reading this book, I became enveloped with the desire to know the truth, if any, there was to the stories about life after death.
While reading the book, I not only became fascinated with the life of Yogananda, but also became inspired by the India described in the footnotes throughout, and thus set out to seek some answers that I sensed might be found in this exotic land. Having experienced such grief at Luis's loss, I wanted to find something more to believe in than the "hellfire and damnation" that seemed to be layered in the Christian books I had read. I needed to have some hope that somehow we would be together once more. The possibility of it fueled my sense of adventure. Would this mystical land supply me with answers to the questions that had haunted me for seven years? After all, India was known as the cradle of spiritual knowledge. It raised my curiosity enough that once again in my life, I found myself taking the risk to step out into the unknown.
Little did I know that in the next weeks, months, and years, my journey would take me from the origin of the Ganges to the Valley of the Saints and back home to California, and back again. Time after time. It became a continuum, like a circle -- no beginning, and no end. How was I to know that this particular trip would change my life forever?
I had been traveling around the world as a goodwill personality with the U.S. State Department giving lectures on customs, costumes, and cultures. I was known as the U.S. Ambassadress of Fashion, and therefore, was accustomed to being welcomed by governments with a full agenda of activities awaiting me. On this night, however, I was an unofficial visitor, strictly on my own. India was a new horizon for me. Not knowing a soul in this ancient and mysterious country, I prayed that my good friend Tom Slick would be there to meet me.
Three months had passed since our last communication about my coming -- would he show up? I was to meet Tom, a Texas oilman and parapsychologist, and our plan was to roam the Himalayan foothills together calling on lamas, swamis, and yogis. While Tom was searching for psychic phenomena, levitation, teleportation, and materialization, I would follow my own search.
When a steward opened the door of the plane, an earthy fragrance filled the cabin. A wave of insecurity washed over me as I climbed down the ramp and looked through the airport lights for the customs house. Then as the soft air caressed me, a thrill of anticipation pushed away my insecurities.
"I'm finally in India. This is the moment I have been waiting for."
I'd come directly from Tehran where, as a guest of the Shah of Iran, I had presented a fashion show to provide publicity for The New Path Society. This was a group of Iranian women who were attempting to ban the obligatory usage of the chador and the facial veil that the women had been wearing for centuries.
"Where is my natural love of adventure?" I silently asked, prodding myself into a confident air. "No matter what happens, it will be fine. If Tom's not here, I'll check into a hotel and in a few days go on to Bangkok."
We were herded into a low, tin-roofed shed glaring with fluorescent lights. A uniformed Indian reached for my suitcase keys, asking in clipped English, "Have you anything to declare, Memsahib?" I shook my head, indicating no, and scanned the crowd teeming in the balmy air around me. Standing nearly six feet tall, I looked out over the crowd but saw nothing familiar. "Oh please, Tom, be here. I have such expectations for this trip."
Emaciated bearers waited by the exit, their somber eyes scrutinizing the passengers. One porter placed three large suitcases on another's head. White-turbaned Sikhs with dark faces and curled up beards milled among brown-skinned women in bright saris. Then, finally, a broad, sunburned forehead framed by prematurely gray hair and mystical, silver-blue eyes peered through the congestion. A smile of recognition lighted the face.
"Tom, over here!" I pushed my way past the passengers. "Boy, am I glad to see you. I was wondering what I'd do if you were not here."
Tom gave me a hug and laughed. "Welcome to India," he said. "You look like a rhapsody in blue. And that blonde mane of yours is like a beacon in this place. You were easy to find."
While at Yale, Tom opted for a life of scientific research rather than the world of oil exploration. From a fortune in huge oil deposits discovered by his late father, he had the financial reserves to make such a choice.
He had established several important foundations, but his favorite was The Mind Science Foundation in San Antonio, Texas, and nothing was too unusual for him to consider. Several months before, I accompanied him looking for Bigfoot (also known as the Yeti, or Abominable Snowman) in the Trinity Alps, a primitive area of Northern California.
A well-built 5'9", Tom, intellectually and spiritually, was my soul mate. He challenged my horizons, he excited me with his ideas, and I felt safe with him. Romantically, time would tell. Neither of us was pushing for a commitment, although we had a close relationship. For now, I was thrilled by his presence.
Tom frowned at my four-inch heels. "Let's get you off those stilts and down to my size. From now on you'll be in hiking boots and khaki."
"I'll be delighted to get out of these clothes, but I had to make an elegant departure from Tehran."
"You will find plenty of material here for your next lecture series."
"I've already thought of that. My agent will make a new brochure with the pictures I'll bring back."
Tom signaled a turbaned porter to secure my bags, and soon we were in an old-fashioned taxi rattling into the night. Little could be seen in the darkness; wooden-wheeled bullock carts passed silently in the opposite direction, their shrouded drivers asleep as the animals patiently plodded along. There was almost no traffic, other than a stray cow or two.
Excitement had pushed away my fatigue. "Okay, I'm here ... ready to go ... when do we start?"
"Early tomorrow morning. But the first order of business is to get you to the hotel and to sleep. Later this afternoon, an Indian parapsychologist from Rajasthan University, Ranjit Ganguli, will join us. He'll bring a Yogiwho will demonstrate complete control over his body. While we take his pulse, he will stop his heartbeat for minutes; then he'll send blood to any part of his body we indicate."
"It sounds fascinating."
"It could be more than fascinating -- it could be very practical," he replied with a twinkle in his eye. I ignored his innuendo; my interest was on our travel plans.
"Later you can take a tour of the city, and tonight we go to a ball at the French Embassy."
"And tomorrow, where do we go?"
"To A1mora, in the mountains near the Tibetan border. Hopefully, we will find Lama Anagarika Govinda. Govinda is translating Buddhist works into books for Western readers. He's well-known in England where he lectures yearly."
This was particularly interesting to me. Previously, during a period of stress and indecision in my life, I had sought answers in Buddhist literature. However, even though the Buddhist emphasis on compassion attracted me, I found the writings unfathomable. I would need to learn a new language to understand the texts.
Religion had always fascinated me. At times this interest got me into trouble. During the seventh grade, while attending a private convent, I asked so many questions during catechism the nuns finally dismissed me from class and had me take art during that hour instead. Yes, I looked forward to meeting Govinda.
Soon our car turned off Jan Path, Delhi's main shopping thoroughfare, into a driveway lined with stately palm trees that led to the Imperial Oberoi Hotel. A magnificently uniformed Sikh doorman greeted us and led the way into a dark wood-paneled lobby, straight out of the thirties. It was inviting and appropriate. Again I noticed the smell of India. It seemed to impart a mixture of flowers, smoke, and earth.
An hour later, unpacked, bathed, and lying on cool sheets, I watched the ceiling fan turn slowly, my thoughts turning with it. "Am I really here resting on a hotel bed in India?" As far away from my family in California as I could be, I wondered what my three sons and daughter were doing. It was yesterday for them, I realized.
A flood of love and gratitude washed over me as I thought of Mother. By living with us, and with the help of our housekeeper, she made it possible for me to follow my career. My two sisters also lived nearby, completing this support system.
A year after my husband's death in Argentina, we left our home in Buenos Aires and all the happy memories it contained, and returned to San Francisco. It was a painful but correct decision, and now, seven years later, things were going well; my children were thriving, and I loved my profession, along with the financial stability it provided.
With this contented thought, and to the sounds of birds greeting the Indian day, jet lag won out and I fell into a deep sleep.
The next morning, Tom, Ranjit Ganguli -- an earnest young Indian -- and I set out on our journey in a brand new Dodge, a real luxury in India. Our Sikh driver, Kali, was so proud of his car that every time we came to a bump in the road he made us get out and walk. Then when the radiator boiled over, we found he didn't know how to open the hood.
"I think we're in for trouble," announced Tom. "We would have been smarter to stick to the Indian-made Ambassador car; every driver knows how to fix them."
We traveled over rough terrain, across the hot Ganges plain as we headed north. The hours passed rapidly, as everything was a feast for the eyes. Tom was an encyclopedia on India. "The first time I came here I hated it; the next trip I fell in love with it. It's important to meet this country properly." This was his eighth trip, so I knew I was in good hands.
At night while the driver slept in the car, Ranjit, Tom, and I shared Spartan sleeping quarters, usually a DAK bungalow, a kind of primitive cement hut built by the British for passing travelers. We bathed out of a bucket, and our beds consisted of four posts and a webbed frame over which we spread our bedrolls -- hardly conducive to flaming romance.
For food by day, I lived on hardboiled eggs, fresh oranges, bananas, and peanut butter, rather than eat in the dirty places available. "If you stick to Punjabi food straight out of the boiling oil, you will be safe," cautioned Tom, but I treasured my powdered milk and the other staples I'd picked up in Delhi. At night we'd get the DAK bungalow attendant to buy fresh vegetables, which were plentiful, and cook our meal over a small fire in front of us. This way I knew what we were eating -- I was taking no chances with dysentery.
Soon snow-capped mountains were visible, but it was slow going. We had just spent a day waiting for a mechanic to come from a far away village to fix the car. Tom had had it with delays; he decided to go on without the troublesome Dodge or its driver. "Kali will go back and we will continue by bus."
The bus was memorable. The windows were so dirty one could hardly see out. A leathery-faced old hillsman sat backwards, cleaning his teeth with a stick and staring at me without interruption.
"You are a one-woman show for him," laughed my companion. "He may never have seen blue eyes before."
The bus driver rarely took his hand off the horn. Women got on with naked babies, and everyone took turns helping the mothers. It didn't matter that the baby would wet the pants of the obliging passenger. Everyone laughed and chatted. I felt as though I were on the "Toonerville Trolley." When we came to villages, we got down to tend to bathroom necessities -- it was my introduction to standing on two footblocks and squatting.
It was getting cold as we gained altitude. "Look at that, Tom, I'm impressed! In spite of this chilly weather, those people are bathing. They wash their few rags and then put them on again."
He explained, "It's part of the Hindu religion to bathe daily, even if it means going into a cold river. You rarely smell any body odor amongst the hill people."
There was constant activity in the villages. Everyone seemed to have a job to do. "These people don't seem to be starving, as most Westerners think," I remarked.
"It is all worked out on a barter system. When statistics report that the average Indian lives on only two rupees a day, it's misleading."
Finally we arrived in the hill station of Almora. The imprint of the British Raj still remained in the architecture of what had originally been summer residences. Lama Govinda's home was another five miles of walking. So huffing, puffing, and suffering in the thin, cold air at 6,000 feet, we traversed the final mountain slope astonished by the magnificent scenery around us.
With no means of communication, there was no way to ascertain that the Lama would be there, or that he would receive us. Tom explained the term lama as when a Buddhist monk becomes a teacher and has a following, he earns the title of lama.
Finally, a small stone house came into view. A tall pole stood between the building and us. From its top fluttered long white clothes covered with strange print. Tom explained, "These are Buddhist prayer flags. Each Tibetan family has its own prayer mark; they use it to stamp cloth after cloth until they create a whole grove of flags as evidence of their devotion. As the wind blows, the prayers flutter their way up to heaven." I thought, "What fun to do this at home."
The heavy rough-hewn front door opened and a thin, angular-faced European woman stood on the threshold. With long, flowing robes and her hair tucked into a hood that arched over her dark-rimmed eyes, she could have been from another century. Hardly pausing to study us, she tipped her head to the side with a smile and said, "I am Li Gotami, the lama's wife. My husband is working, but he will be pleased to receive you." We felt such relief at her welcome.
Li Gotami escorted us into a small, bare room. The whitewashed, stone walls bore the scant decoration of mandalas, portraits of monks, and mountain scenes. There was little furniture on the stone floor. Thangkas, Tibetan scrolls, hung from the ceiling.
On a carpeted platform, spotlighted by sunshine beaming through a tall window, sat a frail figure. Above his burgundy and saffron robes, the man wore a loose wool cap, which hung below his ears and rose to a point high over his head. This framed a thin face with bushy eyebrows, deep-hollowed blue eyes, and an aquiline nose. A thin white beard hung from the tip of his chin. This was Govinda; born to German parents in Bolivia, he was, at 64, the most revered Western-born lama.
I followed Tom's example and greeted him with my hands pressed together -- prayer like -- in namaste fashion, the traditional Indian salutation. Then I ventured, "Mi querido Padre. Con mucho gusto conocerle."
"Gracias -- y yo tambien, Senora."
Govinda inquired about my Spanish and how I happened to have a name like de Herrera.
"My late husband was an Uruguayan."
Govinda bobbed his head enthusiastically. "Yes, yes ... I know that continent well. My grandfather was a comrade in arms to Simon Bolivar, one of the gran libertadores of South America." With this, he gestured for us to sit on cushions lying on the floor.
"Your Holiness," Tom said, introducing himself. "I have come to you for help. I am seeking proof of psychic and physical phenomena that can be repeated under scientifically controlled conditions at my Mind Science Foundation in Texas. I believe that if we can demonstrate these abilities in a manner beyond dispute, we will be able to get our foot in the door of the Western mind and open up new realms for exploration."
Govinda's face exhibited little. He drew Tom out, asking him to enlarge on some of his points. Then he seemed to make up his mind; evidently he would trust this stranger's motives and talk freely. I felt relief; I'd been praying for four days that this would not be a false lead.
"To us Buddhists, such attempts to 'prove' extrasensory perception through scientific tests seem crude and laughable. The conditions for these experiments are in themselves the greatest hindrance to any success." Govinda's cheeks flushed. He paused and cleared his throat. "By reaching for objectivity, you exclude the emotional and spiritual elements of the human mind, without which no state of real contemplation can be created."
We were jolted by his concise appraisal. Seeing the expression on my face, Govinda softened his voice. "In Tibet, our concentration and psychic sensibility is greatly increased in the solitude and silence of nature. The mind is not blunted and diverted from itself by the noise and activity of modern life. Rather, it becomes spiritually attuned and can enter into a silent communication with other attuned minds." His eyes shifted back toward Tom as he gently added, "Thus, telepathy is common among Tibetans."
Tibetan children at the Self-Help Center (Mussoorie, India)
Whether it was the musky incense or the conviction of this uncommon man, I sensed myself slipping into another dimension. Govinda continued, "Whenever the object of concentration comes before the mind, it takes on a greater reality and can then be held and contemplated with full attention. The past is telescoped into the present and the present shows itself not as a dividing line between a past that has died and a future that has yet to be born, but as a single aspect of the co-existence and continuous body of living experience in four dimensions .... "
"Do you believe in the existence of the fourth dimension?"
"It is amusing, young man, that just two weeks ago a Professor Heisenberg came here to ask me about that subject."
"Heisenberg!" I was astonished. Recently I had read an article about Heisenberg, the discoverer of quantum physics. I almost shouted, "The man who won the Nobel Prize? Do you mean he came all the way here?"
Govinda nodded, "Yes, that is the same man. Apparently, modern mathematicians are reaching such complicated answers they need to learn about the fourth dimension in order to explain them. They know we understand this dimension." He smiled as he shared this confidence.
Excitedly, Tom pursued the topic and soon the lama was describing one of his own psychic experiences. He related how lung gumpa, the Tibetan walking levitation, came over him once in a perilous situation and brought him back to safety ... he was able to walk across a lake!
Tom concentrated on getting an exact description of the event, but I felt he was ignoring the state of mind, which evokes such feats-the physical phenomenon was but the momentary effect of a mental state, which could have far greater implication in our lives. Govinda was showing us a path to unlimited possibilities. Casting aside my timidity, I asked, "Your Holiness, if one is interested in seeking spiritual knowledge, how should one begin?"
"First you must practice meditation, my lady. Meditation is essential for the evolution of the soul."
"But how do I learn this?" The cushion on the floor was no longer un-comfortable.
"You will need a teacher. He will teach you ... there are many forms of meditation. Some use the breath, some a mantra, some use colors .... "
"What is a mantra?"
"It is a sacred sound vibration which awakens and stimulates the intuitive qualities of the mind. But leave this to your guru; he will know what is best for you." His eyes penetrated mine as he said, "Always remember, your guru will be in a mortal body and only be a certain percent divine; so forgive his weakness and keep your eye on the divine."
"Your Holiness, do you believe in reincarnation?"
He smiled, "Yes, we believe the soul evolves through many lifetimes."
Later, Tom said that was like asking the lama if he breathed. But I wasn't discouraged; I had to begin somewhere. Ever since my husband's death, I had been looking for assurance that there is justice in the universe. I had already concluded it involved more than one lifetime to work out that justice, so Govinda's words encouraged me.
Later that afternoon as we descended the mountainside, I felt as if I were walking on clouds. I was dizzy and my vision out of focus. The world around me seemed like a Van Gogh painting. I could see swirls spinning in cartwheels against the alpenglow. Everything was in motion.
"Tom, I don't know what's happening. I have such a strange feeling, as if I were drunk."
He laughed, "You have become 'sensitized.' Just by sitting near such a saintly man, you receive his darshan, the energy, the good vibrations."
"I feel as though my heart will break open, it's so full of happiness. Boy, if we could ever bottle this, we'd retire for life!"
"Speaking of bottles, is that a bottle of scotch I see in that store?" We had come into a local center; on both sides of the road were little stall-like shops. This particular shop sold everything from soap to incense -- and scotch. The Haig and Haig was dirty but intact. The proprietor said he'd had it for over ten years. "I bet he was getting worried that he'd never sell it," said Tom.
Later we celebrated in the men's waiting room at the railroad station, where we spent the night on benches. There were no hotels, and I refused to stay alone in the women's section. From my knapsack I produced a can of caviar I'd brought from Iran. We had a party while Ranjit looked on with distaste. I don't know whether it was due to our repast, or due to the fact that I, a woman, was in the men's room.
The morning train took us to Dehradun, a former site of a major British cantonment. After a splendid cup of tea, it was the bus again, this time to Hardwar, the second most holy place in India, located on the banks of the Ganges. As it was my first glimpse of the sacred river, I insisted on running down the ghat steps and wading in the water before we started our search for a revered yogi Tom had been told about.
We had a name and no directions, but miraculously we found him sitting on top of a cement temple, his naked body baking in the sun.
After Ranjit convinced him in Hindi, the little dried-up man begrudgingly agreed to talk to us. He asked for a glass of water to illustrate his point. When the glass appeared, we were each requested to touch the water. The yogi then held it quietly, and we watched the liquid turn solid! Ranjit then asked us to touch it again to verify that it was now ice. We were thunderstruck] We had not expected anything like this. The man wore only a loincloth, had no props, it was a hot day, and we were not hypnotized.
The holy man told Ranjit, "Water is made up of so many molecules of hydrogen and oxygen. Ice is the same; all I have done is to change the characteristic of the water by altering the rate of vibration of the molecules."
Scowling, he continued, "You are scientists; can you control nature peacefully? You will destroy the world with your science; leave this place and bother us no more, or stay and learn union with God." His eyes shut in dismissal.
Later, in a noisy taxi we debated about what we'd seen. "There is no scientific explanation for what we have just observed." I had majored in chemistry at Stanford; I was scientifically oriented.
"Agreed, but the title yogi is given only after the individual demonstrates his ability to control nature," Tom pointed out. "That old boy sure earned his credentials. If only I'd had a movie camera."
"Someone would insist you'd faked it," I consoled, but I knew we had just witnessed something that was impossible.
Tom was in high spirits ... now he knew this expedition would make history. "Our next goal is to find a swami named Sivananda who lives in Rishikesh." It was 13 miles north of Hardwar over a windy road full of potholes, which did not slow down our driver for a minute. He roared through the congestion of carts, animals, bicycles, and horsedrawn tongas, buggies, overloaded with passengers. Tom chuckled as I held my breath and prayed. "I don't think it's our karma to be killed on the way to The Valley of the Saints."
"The hell with our karma, what if the driver thinks it's good for his karma to die in such a holy place?"
It's called The Valley of the Saints because of the holy men who live there near the headwaters of the Mother Ganga. The valley is dotted with numerous temples and ashrams, or religious academies. Most of these clustered near the town, perched on the river bank. Sivananda, the most revered of the saints, had the largest ashram in this spiritual center.
The streets were lined with small wooden stalls. Through the car window I could make out piles of vegetables, dried grains, brassware, brightly colored yard goods, religious objects, and crudely made household tools. Men haggled over prices while others gathered around open braziers, where turbaned Sikhs prepared vegetable dishes in wok-like pans filled with spitting hot oil. The enticing scent of curry was everywhere.
Suddenly our driver screeched to a halt. Ahead, like a sea of dirty laundry, swirled an impenetrable confusion of carts and pedestrians. He turned his sweat-beaded brow to Tom and said, "You walk now, Sahib."
Tom leaned forward, "How will we find The Divine Life Forest Academy?"
"No problem, Sahib. It is very close." He pointed to a street corner about a hundred yards away, "There turn right, walk down to river embankment and turn left. Ashram easy to find." The din enveloped his singsong English as Tom opened the door. I put my dark glasses on to ease the glare and keep out the dust. Beggars and hawkers ran up trying to attract our attention and money. Tom grabbed our daybag and pulled me by the hand, ignoring pleas and gestures of baksheesh.
There were no sidewalks, so we zigzagged down the center of the dusty, clay road -- retreating to the sides every few steps to avoid rickshaws and carts. Making our way slowly, we encountered a group of lepers sitting on the side of the street. They were horribly disfigured. Some balanced their dented cups between handless limbs; without lips or noses they pleaded for alms. Others held out their walking sticks to bar our passage and force a gift from us. I froze, not wanting to touch anything they had handled.
"Here, take these small coins," Tom said, forcing them into my paralyzed hand, "Put one in each cup and they'll leave you alone."
I did what he said, but tried not to look at the pathetic creatures. It was hard to realize they were human -- this thought made me feel guilty. "Oh, Tom, why must people exist in such horrible condition?"
"Yes, I know, but the Indian government does provide a place for lepers to live."
"Can you imagine what those places are like if they'd rather live here and beg?"
We began to walk faster. Just before the corner a rickshaw backed us against the wall; I felt a hand lightly tap my shoulder, "Baksheesh, Memsahib?"
I spun around to see a naked man daubed all over with ashes. His black hair was coiled on top of his head and a huge live snake hung from his neck. I gasped and threw my last coins at him.
Tom tugged me around the corner; nothing seemed to faze him. "The driver said to turn here ... " The crowd thinned out as we descended toward the swiftly flowing waters of the Ganges. Across the wide river whitewashed domes and temples fringed the far bank. All appeared empty except for one huge building, which was entirely covered with ornate printing.
"What's that?" I asked.
"It is the Gita Bhavan. A wealthy and devout Hindu built it to shelter those who want to study the Bhagavad Gita and other scriptures. The decorative printings are Vedic quotes."
Suddenly on our left was a high wall. Crude brick stairs ran up its side and ended in a gated archway. Square black letters surrounded by colored lights announced Sivananda's ashram.
We must have been observed climbing the stairs, for as we crossed the stone courtyard, a gaunt, dark Indian in white robes came out of a room on the far side and walked toward us in greeting.
"I am Chidananda, secretary and disciple to His Holiness Swami Sivananda." When he heard why we had come, he smiled, "You are in luck. His Holiness has just come out of a long meditation and will be giving an audience shortly. But we must hurry."
We followed him into the main building and down a stairway to a basement called the "meeting cave." He seated us on a wooden bench against a cold, damp wall, and excused himself. Other disciples, or chelas, of the Swami, Westerners mostly, had already gathered in the room. They sat on pillows strewn about the earthen floor. Their heads were shaven and their white robes bespoke their devotion. Tom and I shifted on our bench, trying to be comfortable without leaning against the wet wall.
Little light came into the cave and many candles were burning. Smoke mingled with the sinuous trails of incense and the sweet aroma of flowers. Potted plants were clustered near a chair at one end of the room. Mildewed and peeling whitewashed walls were heavily decorated with religious paintings depicting blue Krishnas, photographs of sadhus, or holy beggars, and figurines of animal-headed gods. Between these hung garlands of dusty artificial flowers. Some of the chelas sat in the lotus posture with their eyes closed, their hands cradling a humble offering to their master. Others lounged, talking to their colleagues, glancing at us with interest. There were about 20 in all.
Chidananda reappeared at a door near the chair. Turning and looking expectantly back through the opening, he slowly retreated from the entrance. "The master is coming," he announced quietly. The students jumped to their feet and held out their offerings, making short, shallow bows and uttering low chanting sounds.
A broad, hairless, yellow-brown head floated calmly into the room. Chelas threw themselves to the floor to kiss Sivananda's feet. The massive holy man slowly made his way through the commotion, waving blessings to all. He accepted fruit and flowers from those in his path, while others stood behind him, bestrewing his coat with rose petals. Finally, when he stood before his chair, he motioned for everyone to sit and then did so himself.
A disciple picked his way through the crowd and received permission to place a heavy garland of orange targate flowers around the Swami's neck. Sivananda put his feet on a stool, revealing velvet boots. He beamed as he slowly reviewed his congregation. A camel-hair coat magnified his immense frame. His brown eyes appeared slightly crossed behind a bulbous nose, but this did not negate a powerful, confident demeanor.
When his gaze came around to us, he called Chidananda to his side. Learning who we were, he welcomed us to his ashram in good English. He instructed his secretary to take the garland from his shoulders and to place it on mine. Everyone turned to look at me; it was an honor, but it was heavy and I felt like a horse that had just won the Derby.
Sivananda intoned to his chelas, "Come, let's have one of you rise and tell our guests what you have learned here at the Academy." Not one, but more than half the gathering stood up in turn and told of their gratitude and love for their master, for the wisdom he bestowed on them. Then the Swami began a discourse. He pitched his comments toward Tom, turning to us while describing the achievements of science.
Taking advantage of a pause, Tom asked rhetorically if scientific knowledge was leading to peace. The answer came back, "No, to destruction! In order to generate peaceful vibrations, one must possess individual tranquility, which alone will pave the way to world peace. This requires self-discipline ... this is what we practice here."
Giving Tom a confident smile, he concluded, "A scientist without discipline is a danger to the world. You should learn to meditate."
My thoughts went back to the irate "ice yogi." Evidently, science was a dirty word in the Valley. How differently Lama Govinda had received Tom as a scientist.
Tom was nonplused by the Swami's ardor, but asked, "Your Holiness, could you explain about meditation? What does it offer a scientist?"
"What are the benefits of meditation?" A smile flickered across his face, and he played to the crowd. He talked at length about meditation and its goals. "Meditation helps the mind to rule the senses and the practitioner to control his mind." This quickly led into a description of the path to God-realization, and, prompted by questions from the chelas, to comments on the Divine Presence, Advaitic Unity, Sadhana -- Atmic Glory -- we were lost. Was he speaking English? The garland got heavier. I was tempted to take it off, but was afraid of insulting some tradition.
When the discourse ended, Sivananda came over and sat between Tom and me, ordering a chela to take a picture. An ancient camera was produced which made a flash and a puff of white smoke. Only when he took leave of us did I notice his wrinkled hands and realize he was a very old man.
As the Swami left, the students chanted and rang small bells ... they ignited powders and passed around strange things to eat, combinations of seeds, pastes, and dried fruits. Leery of food prepared by unclean hands, I took no chances, and, pretending to eat, dropped what I was given inside the front of my blouse.
After Sivananda retired, Chidananda came over and sat next to me. "What did you think of Swamiji?" He used the suffix-ji, which I had learned was a form of endearment.
There being no point in pretense, I said, "My impressions are somewhat negative. All the ritual and the kissing of feet are simply not for me."
Chidananda's face showed compassion. "Yes, I could see that in your expression. There is much you do not understand." He gestured for Tom to listen and continued. "If Swamiji could have his way, none of this obeisance would take place. When he first came out of the forest where he lived for years in solitude, people fell to the ground to kiss his feet. He had no choice but to let them show their devotion to him in such humble ways, or they felt themselves unworthy."
That seemed rational to me. He then went on to tell us about the Academy and its students, and describe their practice of self-discipline. He encouraged me to ask questions and later, as he escorted us to the gate, asked me, "Did you ever think of finding a guru for yourself?"
"Yes, I'm looking for a teacher to guide me, but I'm not ready to renounce my worldly life. It's a dilemma for me."
Chidananda's eyes darkened, "Yes, it is hard to renounce." Then he brightened and offered, "Perhaps I can help you. There is a swami, very respected by Sivananda, with an ashram across the river who appeals to Western students. He teaches the path of the householder, and requires no withdrawal from worldly activity. You might talk with him; his name is Maharishi Mahesh Yogi. Perhaps he will be the teacher for you. If not, do not worry, we have a saying here: 'When the chela [student] is ready, the master appears.'''
We bid the friendly holy man goodbye and headed for the river to find the man named Mahesh. Tom was just as curious as I. A barge-like boat was departing for the opposite bank and we asked if we could ride along; already overcrowded, the passengers made room for us. Quietly, numerous pairs of dark eyes stared at us. I tried to pull myself in from being touched by the ash-covered saint sitting next to me.
Tom had explained, "The ashes keep him warm."
A small child extended her hand to my hair. Her mother explained, "Please excuse my daughter. She has a doll with hair like yours, and wants to touch it." We laughed and answered her questions as to where we were from and what we were doing there. Before long we reached the other side and asked a kind-looking man on the shore where we might find Mahesh and directions to the ashram.
"Oh, you are too late. Maharishi has just left for California. It is a pity; he is a very respected teacher."
So we were saved a climb up the hill. Little did I know then how many times I would return to this exact place in the future and make that climb.
THE YOGA-VEDANTA FOREST ACADEMY
P.O. SIVANANDANAGAR, RISHIKESH
DIST. DEHRA DUN, HIMALAYAS, lNDIA.
Founder
Sri Swami Sivananda
17.6.62
Srl Nancy Cooke,
California.
Rev. Immortal Self,
Salutations and adorations. Om Namo Narayanaya.
I am delighted to go through the contents of your kind letter of the 8th instant.
Kindly send a copy of the book that you are intending to publish for our library. I am sure your notes and experiences on your trip here with Mr. Glick will prove to be of great inspiration to others in your country and our own students here.
All your friends are welcome to this abode. Welcome to all of them! I shall attend to them all and serve them. I am sure by your efforts and influence more and more of your countrymen will take interest in the Eastern culture and philosophy and find peace and solace in them.
May Lord bless you all with fine health, long life, joy, peace and eternal happiness!
Will deep regards, Prem and OM,
Thy own Self,
Sivananda
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Re: Freda Bedi Cont'd (#2)
by admin » Fri Jun 12, 2020 2:36 am
Chapter 2. An Offering of Miracles, and Chapter 3. Atomic Death, from "All You Need is Love: An Eyewitness Account of When Spirituality Spread from the East to the West" [Excerpt]
by Nancy Cooke de Herrera
Foreword by Deepak Chopra
© 2003 by Nancy Cooke de Herrera
NOTICE: THIS WORK MAY BE PROTECTED BY COPYRIGHT
2. An Offering of Miracles
FOR WEEKS WE TRAVELED by rickshaw, oxcart, train, taxi, and bus. Sometimes during that month our quest was in vain, other times successful. Our bedrolls got grimier by the day, but the soul of India had entered my heart. This exotic land captivated me, and my mind was being blown open by what I was witnessing.
In Srinagar, capital of Kashmir, we interviewed a young boy with a special ability. By covering his head with a black bag and concentrating on the whereabouts of a particular person described to him, he would go into a trance, and tell in detail the location of that individual. By this method he had helped the police recover the body of a drowned child after all other attempts had failed. The body was covered by weeds in Dal Lake.
Near Amritsar, then capital of Punjab, a man read the Bhrigu Samhita, the book of life, for us. Finding the corresponding palm leaf, marked in mulberry juice with the correct astrological signs for that day, he told Tom his past, present, and future; as it turned out, he was accurate about the past, but way off on the future.
Tom was so hopeful and became exasperated with me when on occasion I would point out how easily something could have been faked. After one demonstration I spoke out, "Give me an hour and all those robes and I bet I could do better. You talk about scientific, controlled conditions -- that was a complete con-job!" I was worried that Tom, in his eagerness to find phenomena, would be fooled.
By late March, we looked forward to one of the highlights of our expedition -- a visit to Dharamsala to see the Dalai Lama, God-King of the Tibetans. We lucked out; a forest ranger lent us his jeep and driver. However, while passing through the Kumaon Forest, made famous by Jim Corbett's book on tiger hunting in this region, we got stuck in a river. Night was falling, and our driver became increasingly anxious about man-eating tigers, "See those cliffs ahead, Memsahib; the people are too poor to burn their dead, so they throw the bodies over the cliffs. The tigers are used to man-meat."
This news startled us. Tom remarked, "All we have to protect ourselves are fishing poles. Maybe we'd better listen to the driver and spend the night in the temple he insists on going to."
I was so disappointed; I'd been looking forward to the hotel in Dharamsala -- especially to the use of a Western toilet. It was a ghastly night, surrounded by sleeping and coughing bodies. Poor people; I'm sure I heard a few give a last agonized gasp. In the morning I insisted on taking a cold bath out of a bucket, "I'm not going to call on a God-King covered with negative vibrations." Tom tolerated my outburst; I'd been a good sport so far.
Dharamsala, where His Holiness resided, is near the Tibetan border at 7,000 feet. As we wound up the mountain, we observed the precautions the Indian Army was taking to protect the revered holy man. At every turn were tanks, guns, and troops. India had granted him political asylum after his spectacular escape from Tibet. For three months after leaving Lhasa, the God-King, and the thousands who followed him into exile, disappeared until he arrived in India. The Chinese planned to kill him and put the Panchen Lama in his place.
Just before reaching the summit, we met a large group of Tibetan children parading down the hill, each carrying a long white scarf. They greeted us with happy faces, cheeks pink from the brisk air. With youthful energy they hailed us, "Jole, where are you from? California, is that in America?"
An older man, who seemed to be in charge, came forward. He wore a Tibetan hat, its crown covered with dusty brocade; the fur-lined earflaps were turned up like a Dutch girl's cap. His heavy, black padded robe hung below his knees and was thrown off one shoulder and caught in the middle by a wide leather belt. A long turquoise and coral earring hung from one ear only. When he smiled, he showed large, stained teeth.
"It is most auspicious that you arrive at this time. His Holiness has just come out of two weeks of silence. Today we are celebrating the second anniversary of his escape from Lhasa. These children were just received by him." He gave us directions and went on his way.
With renewed excitement, we continued up the steep grade. When we came to the gate and the guards protecting the holy residence, we presented the letter we had prepared in advance requesting an audience. Within minutes, a young man with a gaunt, high-cheekboned face approached us from within the official compound.
"I am Sonam Kazi, interpreter for His Holiness." He held out his hand in greeting, and shook ours with enthusiasm. "If you will follow me, I will take you to him. He will be very happy to receive you on this special day." We were elated. Kazi's English was excellent.
We followed his long, black-coated figure up the hill to what must have been an old English summer bungalow with green wooden shingles, and leaded glass windows. It was surrounded by pine trees and overlooked a magnificent view of the mountains and Gangetic plains below. I could feel the altitude as we walked up the Lingkor, the holy path that circled the residence in exile. We passed pilgrims making rounds, repeating their mantras, and spinning their miniature prayer wheels.
We entered a friendly, faded-chintz-covered room. There was the assorted furniture usually found in summer places -- what didn't fit somewhere else was sent here. The floor was covered with Tibetan carpets of all sizes; the furniture was large, overstuffed, and comfortable. Little wooden tables, an umbrella stand, thangkas, books, magazines -- all added to the busy friendliness of the room. Kazi stopped us. "No, you do not need to take off your shoes."
Before we could be seated, a tall young man briskly entered the room from the rear. A spicy scent of incense arrived with him. His face was long and cleanly shaven. He wore eyeglasses, which accented his penetrating gaze. We knew him to be in his late twenties.
Kazi stepped forward, "I have the honor of presenting His Holiness, the Dalai Lama." We made the sign of namaste. I presented my khata, a white ceremonial scarf, and we seated ourselves as directed on the couch. I was thrilled -- we were sitting two feet away from a God-King.
The Dalai Lama wore Western men's shoes and trousers; a long, wine-colored robe with saffron-colored lining covered these. His right hand fingered his prayer beads. As we related, through Kazi, the purpose of our trip, he watched our faces with keen interest. However, he brushed aside the subject of psychic phenomena. "What Iwant you to hear is about the genocide being practiced against my people by the Chinese. The outside world does not know the truth."
The cruelties he spoke of were almost unbelievable -- the killing of thousands of priests, the raping of nuns, the refugees fleeing out over treacherous mountain passes with new stories of their ruthless captors.
"Hundreds of monasteries have been destroyed. These were the centers of our Tibetan culture."
As he told us of the thousands who had lost their lives in attempting to escape, his serious face was filled with sadness. "Instead of bringing their own belongings, they carried out the holy scriptures, the Kangyur, printed on palm leaves hundreds of years old and carefully wrapped in cloth." Kazi brought one for us to see.
Presenting khata to His Holiness the Dali Lama (Dharamsala, India, 1962).
"In order to keep our tradition alive, we must get as many young children out of Tibet as possible. We need money to build schools. Switzerland, Norway, and the United States have been very kind to us. We will get our country back one day, but it may be a hundred years or so. Time means nothing to a Tibetan."
Soon the hour we had been allotted had passed. Catching Tom's eye, I signaled it was time. Kazi nodded his head in agreement. Standing up, we expressed our thanks to His Holiness for receiving us, and I added, "You can be sure I will pass on all I have heard to my audiences, and Mr. Slick will help through his education foundation. He has a special affection for Tibetans and Sherpas ever since he organized a group of them and went hunting for the Yeti."
"What do you know about the Yeti?" came in English from His Holiness. It surprised us to hear him speak directly after having spoken through an interpreter for an hour. Now he came forward, took each of us by the arm, and said, "Please stay; my English is poor, but there is much to talk about."
"Do you believe in the existence of the Yeti?" I asked.
"First, tell me what you know about the Yeti."
Luckily, Tom always carried photos of the evidence he had collected to prove the existence of this legendary creature. He dug into his pockets, and minutes later the three of us had our heads together like a group of conspirators. The pictures were of Yeti footprints, a skull, the droppings, and a lair where the creature supposedly gave birth.
As I sat there, I kept reminding myself who this man was. He was so likeable and easygoing. Tom had told me, "For two years after the death of the thirteenth Dalai Lama, the court lamas searched until they found him as a small child." While a youth, he was cloistered from contact with outsiders except on religious occasions, yet at this moment he was like any young man, swapping adventure stories.
Everyone who lived in Dharamsala, and thousands of Tibetan refugees in India, were there only to be near him, the same man who at this point was asking Tom to describe the droppings of the Yeti!
Only after exhausting Tom's information did His Holiness tell us, "Yes, I am convinced of the existence of the Yeti. One of my most respected lamas told me of a creature who would come each day and help him draw water from the well. It was very similar to yours, Mr. Slick."
His face was animated now; it was easy to see this was a subject of great interest to him. "Another lama reported to me that a similar creature would visit his hermitage every week or so to eat the grain he spread out on the frozen ground. He knew when it was approaching by the strong smell that preceded it."
'That is evidently why it got the name of the Abominable Snowman," added Tom. "Was he ever able to tame this creature?"
"No, but it continued its visits for a long period of time -- especially during the winter months when food was hard to find. They usually eat the blossoms of the rhododendron trees and wild berries. They are not carnivorous."
All barriers to friendship were soon dissolved when Tom volunteered to raise money for schools. His Holiness then came forward with an offer, which electrified us. "I am convinced of your dedication, Mr. Slick. If you will bear all expenses of the project, I will send three of my lamas to your foundation in Texas, and they will exhibit the power of man to levitate, materialize objects, and to pull the load of seven elephants under duress!"
We were stunned. Was it possible? Our search was over; Tom had found what he had come to India for. I was elated at having been part of such an important expedition. Plans were made for follow through, and when we finally took leave, we shook hands with the God-King, promising to tell the Western world about the Chinese atrocities.
We floated down the hill to where Ranjit awaited, as the guards had not allowed him to accompany us. He would be so happy to return home. On many occasions he had asked me, "Are all Americans so full of energy?" He had difficulty in keeping up with us.
Little fat dogs yapped at our feet, and soon a curious crowd gathered around us while we related our experience to our Indian companion. Kazi explained, "Many of them have never seen a European before. They would like you to share tea with them."
Smiling, Tom watched me as I took my first sip.
"Oh my God, what's in this?"
He laughed, "It is tea made with rancid yak butter and salt; it is very good for keeping the body temperature up in cold weather."
The taste was unexpected and nauseating. It prompted my ungracious reply, "The heck with my temperature going up, my problem will be in keeping the tea down!"
***
3. Atomic Death
By EUROPEAN STANDARDS, the Dharamsala hotel could hardly be called deluxe, but it had electricity. So that night, after a shower, I settled down to read some Buddhist literature and to think back on the interview with His Holiness. Feeling chilly, I decided to plug in the small wall-heater. As I inserted the plug, all the lights went out. Looking out the window, I could see the whole place was in darkness. Soon a bearer came with a candle, "So sorry, Memsahib, somebody plug in heater and blowout all lights. Man come fix tomorrow." So much for my evening of reading.
The weak candle threw strange images against the walls, but I felt cozy in my room alone. It was pleasant to let my mind wander back over the past month calling on certain spiritual personalities -- holy men. There had been few moments of solitude in which to do so.
It appeared that Tom had been successful in his quest, but what about mine? I'd certainly found plenty of lecture material, as well as colorful, ethnic costumes for my show. That afternoon I'd bought articles of clothing from the refugees, which would help me illustrate the dramatic story of the Tibetans. But what about that other dimension -- the spiritual world which was beginning to intrigue me? I had felt such serenity while sitting at the feet of the holy men we'd called on. It was a serenity I had not felt for years, and I was not going to let it slip away. Had I been guided to India by this inner need? I seemed ripe for the knowledge I was receiving.
After seven years of reading and searching I had come to certain conclusions, but it was here in India that those conclusions were taking form and being expressed back to me in words. These words excited me; they pointed to a path for me to follow. I needed a belief that would serve as an insurance policy, an insulator, against ever again experiencing the terrible grief that had engulfed me after my late husband's death.
A deep sadness came into the silence around me as a face drifted into my consciousness -- it was the face of a handsome, dark-haired man with golden lights in his brown eyes. His finely chiseled features were full of intelligence and humor. Everything about him exuded energy and passion. Oh, beloved Luis, what a short time we had together, but what an impact you have had on my life! Yes, he was the love of my life, and what joy we shared -- more happiness and excitement than most people would know in a lifetime.
My thoughts went back to our meeting.
It was summer 1951 -- my first trip to Europe. One evening in Paris, my French friend Huguette Empain had implored me, "I know you are exhausted by parties, but you must join us, we need you. We have three attractive Americans who drove in the Le Mans last week. You won't have to struggle with French; they all speak English. Be a good sport and meet us at eleven o'clock at the Plaza Athene." She would not take no for an answer.
Luis told me later that when he saw me in the distance, he thought to himself, "Hope she is the one joining us." He said he liked the way I was dressed, the way I walked, and the way I came up and in a friendly way said, "Hi, I'm Nancy Cooke." Nothing coy, nothing mysterious.
What a night it was! We went to Dinashads, a Russian restaurant specializing in caviar-filled blinis. These were washed down by quantities of champagne. Every time we drank a glass, presented to us on a violin, we emptied it and threw it into the fireplace. Later, while dancing at Jimmy's, Luis led me into a slow tango. Wrapping our bodies together, as is customary with this sensuous dance, he made me terribly aware of the intimacy we shared. I liked the smell of his hair and the feeling of his strong body pressed to mine. I surrendered myself totally to his directions. When the music stopped, he slowly let me go, saying, "I think I've been searching for you all of my life." I laughed and discounted his words, "Isn't it wonderful what magic champagne creates."
It was 8:30 A.M. when I returned to my hotel. Five hours later I met Luis de Herrera for brunch at the Ritz. I was curious as to how I'd find him by day. Iwas puzzled by the deep impression he'd made on me. Maybe I'd be disappointed. But he looked even better, in spite of a lack of sleep. When he entered a room, something changed-his vitality radiated to all. Six-foot-three and powerfully built, he had been the amateur golf champion of every South American country. He had played in the British Open just before coming to Le Mans to meet his pal Briggs Cunningham, the veteran U.S. racing driver. Although born in London, he was actually a Uruguayan citizen living in Buenos Aires, Argentina. Educated both in Spain and France, he'd finished his schooling at Cambridge. All of this I had found out the night before.
Now across the table we discreetly probed to find out more about each other. He took the initiative, "I've known and liked many North Americans, but you are not typical. Huguette said you were in your twenties, but you have a quiet confidence, a worldliness beyond your years. Where does this come from?"
Nancy posing with Ester Williams (Honolulu, 1949).
What a question. I laughed, "Two months ago my divorce was finalized, after nine years of marriage in Honolulu. Also, I'm the mother of three little boys who at present are spending their vacation holidays with their father, while their mother takes her first trip to Europe." I made a sweeping gesture. "So there it all is, my life history."
"No, I want to know more. You are very at home in the world and have a natural ease with people. I watched you closely last night, or didn't you notice?" He was persistent. "Tell me more about your background, your family."
"Well, I had a wonderful childhood shared by two look-alike sisters, which made life even more fun. I went to Stanford University for three years before getting married to Richard Cooke, and lived in Honolulu during the war."
"That must have been interesting."
"It was fascinating. As all the military wives were sent home, we local women were in great demand. We became hostesses for the top army and navy officers -- we became good friends with Admiral Nimitz and Admiral Halsey especially."
"Was your husband in the military service?"
"Not before the war. After Pearl Harbor he became a naval officer."
"So it was a command performance when the top boys invited you."
"Yes. As a matter of fact, Admiral Towers, who was head of Naval Air for the Pacific, included my husband and me at all his functions. He even sent his aide to teach me how to make a perfect martini."
"I like that man's style."
"It was a unique experience; we were in on everything. Also, I took part in community theater and helped entertain the troops."
He laughed, "My question is well answered."
"Thank you, but now tell me about yourself."
"I'm a banker by profession, on an extended holiday. But this I talked about last night. I am married and have four children."
My heart registered dismay, but it was just as well. It was best not to get involved with anyone yet; I needed time to enjoy my newly won freedom.
Then I heard Luis add, "But I no longer live with my wife. We have a separacion del cue, po (a legal separation), as there is no divorce law in Argentina."
Not so safe after all.
As we talked, something special was happening. So-called experts have reported that we know these things within ten minutes. His eyes searched mine and found answers. A part of me quietly suggested caution. Things were moving too fast.
We spent several days visiting Versailles, touring the French countryside, and eating in small inns. Luis was full of enthusiasm. His French was fluent, as well as his knowledge of French art and history. I could not have picked a more attractive guide. We ran over with words -- we had so much to talk about. Knowing that he was leaving in a few days' time, and that this relationship could go nowhere, I kept him at arms distance -- actually was shy about allowing him into a more intimate relationship -- I'd been off the "dating market" for such a long time, and I was unsure of myself.
Nancy berating a longshoreman at a "We the Women" picket line (LIFE: MAGAZINE, July 20, 1949).
He mentioned he would be in England at the same time I'd be visiting my friend Nancy Oakes (well-known to the press because of the notoriety resulting from the grisly murder of her father, Sir Harry Oakes, in Nassau during World War II). I'd given him my London address, and as I said goodbye in Paris, I silently prayed, "Please call me. I do want to see you again." How little I knew; maybe he had a ladyfriend already there waiting for him.
Several days later, arriving at Heathrow, there was Luis waiting for me! I was so surprised -- he looked unbelievably handsome. My heart almost burst as he embraced me and kissed me in a very gentle way.
His first words delighted me. "Something came up unexpectedly. Your friend Nancy has gone to Scotland for a few days. I told her I'd meet you and be your guide. She agreed it would be more convenient for her to have you stay at the London Ritz where I am until she returns."
The staff at the Ritz greeted me with great warmth. They had known Luis during his Cambridge days. I was a bit perplexed when we came to a suite of rooms connecting to the public hall through one common door. But my room was on the left and Luis's on the right, so I said nothing.
"Do your unpacking, and then come over to me for a lovely English high tea," invited my handsome guide. (It actually crossed my mind as to how we would keep our bills straight. I was so naive.)
Needless to say, once I crossed that hall, I never got back to my room again except to bathe and change clothes.
Nancy with Johny Gomez and Jimmy and Gloria Stewart (Honolulu, 1950)
Luis with great gentleness introduced me to the passion my body was capable of and had never experienced. Until then it had been easy to keep my distance with men -- sex was no big thing as far as I knew. Arriving at the altar as a virgin, I found my wedding night a total disappointment. Why all the hoopla about this painful, messy act? Time didn't seem to help. Dick and I had no "fire" between us and I slowly became a "frigid wife." But now, with an experienced partner, possessing a body chemistry perfectly matched to mine, a whole new world of sensations opened up.
Several days later Luis confessed, "I called Nancy Oakes and told her you would be delayed a week -- maybe you'd better give her a ring."
So she had been there all the time! She howled when I explained, and said, "Go off and enjoy yourself, I'll be here all summer."
Luis and I had fallen desperately in love by the time we joined his Australian friend Peter Reid, and spent a month touring France, Switzerland, and Monaco. It was a storybook trip, one that would make us suffer more when we parted. We could not stay together; there were too many obstacles, but knowing it didn't make it easier.
Luis followed me to New York and then to Los Angeles, delaying our eventual separation. Finally, with despair, we agreed to go our separate ways. He returned to Argentina and his family, and I to Honolulu to bring the boys back to California for school. My enchanted summer was over.
The joy of being reunited with my precious, blonde-haired, little sons helped my aching heart, but it was an emotional time for me. I'd closed a nine-year chapter in my life, and would now move away from my circle of supportive friends. We had all been newlyweds and first-time parents together -- our roots were deep. My mother-in-law, whom I loved, had asked me not to stay in the Islands for Dick's sake.
Raising the morale of wounded Korean War soldiers at Tripler Hospital (Honolulu, 1950).
So, even though I was relieved to have my divorce behind me, I felt both apprehension and hopeful expectations as I returned to the San Francisco Bay area.
Getting my family resettled and moved into a new house kept me so busy that life began to fill in, even though I longed for Luis. Then in October a letter arrived. He wrote, "You are under no obligation to me, but I can't go on as it is. I will get a divorce in Uruguay and Mexico. Only when I am completely free will I appear in your life again. Darling girl, I refuse to envision a future without you!"
I didn't come down from the clouds for days; my happiness wiped away all problems. Everything would be worked out in time. What I knew for now was that it was possible! Six long months later, Luis came to California and formally called on my father to ask for my hand.
Then Dick came for a visit with our sons. While staying at my sister's, he agreed to my taking the boys to Argentina. This was a big relief to me, as I had to have his written permission to take them out of the U.S. (Foolishly, I thought his oral promise was good enough.) It was agreed that I would send the boys to Honolulu for the summer, and go to Argentina, select schools, and so on, and then return for them in September. We would make the trip back to Buenos Aires together.
So with good faith I made my plans. Only when I looked at a map and saw how far away Buenos Aires was did I have butterflies in my stomach. It was as far away from San Francisco as Australia. My family had mixed emotions. They were happy for my joy, but felt sad about my going such a distance. However, I had no choice; Luis's family banking business was there, and this was the source of his income.
On June 26, 1952, one year from the day we met in Paris, I joined my husband-to-be in Chile; from there we traveled to Argentina. The country was in turmoil over the impending death of Evita Peron. All nightlife was subdued as the people waited, but it hardly affected us. All we needed was each other. Luis would go to the office for an hour, and then return home for lunch to make sure I was not homesick. Luckily, he had a good Scottish manager to run things.
After selecting a fine British school, ordering uniforms, and getting everything ready for the children, Luis and I went to Montevideo, Uruguay to be married. We were so happy, even though I wished my family could have been there with us.
Then the bomb dropped. Dick wrote saying he would never let the boys come to Argentina. He had waited until I was married and could not change my mind.
Nancy and Luis: the happy couple (Monte Carlo, 1951)
Nancy and Luis: the happy couple (Monte Carlo, 1951)
It threw me into a complete panic, soon to be replaced by rage. Luis comforted me with plans to return together to the U.S. for Christmas. So began my custody battle with the Cooke family, one that dragged on and on.
On April 12, 1954, my birthday, our daughter Maria Luisa was born -- what a heavenly time! It was also a time to make another decision, one the boys begged me to make. So, after trying for two years through lawyers and repeated lengthy stays in California, I took the whole family back to Argentina without the written permission of anybody.
I took enough money with me to support the boys until their father came to his senses. Now my happiness was complete. We all adored the baby, Luis was a supportive and admired stepfather, and we bought a large house outside the city near the school. Everything was going beautifully when, six months later, tragedy struck.
On returning from a New Year's Eve party, Luis had been violently sick. He recovered, but didn't feel normal for a couple of weeks, so we decided he should check into the British Hospital for a check-up. As a typical Argentine, he was sure it was something wrong with his liver.
How I remember that dreadful day -- every minute is engraved on my heart. It was the 15th of January, a beautiful summer day. A battery of diagnostic tests were run, and we were waiting in his room for the results.
Finally, Harry Fergusson, Luis's doctor and old golfing friend, came in with a handful of papers and announced, "Well, pal, I'm afraid my suspicions were correct. You have a blood intoxication. It must have been what you ate the night you became so sick."
"That Chilean lobster?" asked Luis.
"Very likely. Anyway, you're not going to get over it immediately. We're going to keep you here and give you regular transfusions until we wash out this reaction." Turning to me, he said, "I guess you'll be staying here for a while, dear Nancy. You'd better move your car into the shade. It's going to be a hot day. Let me walk out with you."
This was strange. I had parked my car in the shade, but I didn't say anything. Evidently, Harry wanted to talk to me alone.
Once out in the corridor, he took my elbow and guided me into a nearby waiting room. His rawboned, weathered Scots face was sad. "Nancy, Luis is seriously ill."
I don't know why, but a dreaded thought crossed my mind. I asked, "Is it leukemia?"
"Yes." His large features seemed to drop as he sighed.
"Does that mean he is going to ... to die?" I choked on the word.
''I'm afraid so, unless there is a miracle. It's rare at his age, but the leukemia is acute."
"But he's always been so strong and healthy."
"Yes, but now there will be a crisis. If we can just get him through the next ten days .... "
I was sinking into the earth. Harry's voice seemed far away as he continued, "I contacted Dr. Albert Pavlowski, head of the World Blood Society, who is luckily in Buenos Aires. I asked him to check my diagnosis, praying I or the lab made a mistake. The diagnosis is correct."
For a moment my vision expanded. Harry seemed to be standing at the opening of a distant tunnel. As if outside myself, my voice asked, "Will it be a painful death?"
"No, he'll be spared that."
Someone pulled the cork, and my whole life poured out on the floor.
I tried to grab hold of myself -- not break down. In a matter of minutes, I had to see Luis. Harry settled me back into a chair and asked a passing nurse to bring me a sedative.
He took my hands, "This will be hard. Go back and stay with Luis until Dr. Pavlowski and I return." His grip tightened. "Talk and try to appear as normal as you can. We don't want to arouse his fear. He has only a small chance of surviving this crisis, but if he panics, he won't even have that."
I don't know how I did it, but it is amazing what you can do for someone you love. Harry and I agreed it was best to convince Luis that he was reacting to lobster poisoning. If I broke down, he would guess the truth.
The next hour seemed like a hundred. Sitting on the hospital bed, running my fingers through Luis's fine black hair and chatting with him, I had to fight back thoughts of the reality crushing in on us. To me, my husband was everything a man could be. His Latin temper was counterpoised by his English heritage. He was tender, affectionate, and bombastic. How he loved to debate, an incessant devil's advocate, taking either side. Never knowing what to expect from him, I was captivated by this electric man. I looked at his strong chest and shoulders, his athletic golfer's hands and legs. He emanated health. I couldn't believe what was happening.
Finally, Harry returned with a small, fair-skinned man whose kind brown eyes looked out of a prematurely lined face. After Dr. Pavlowski examined Luis, he asked me to join him for a cup of coffee in the hospital cafe, leaving Harry and Luis talking golf.
Harry had told Pavlowski that Luis and I had been exposed to an atomic fallout 20 months before. Perhaps there was a connection. He urged me, "Please start at the beginning, and don't leave anything out. I need to get the complete picture."
"In May of '53," I began, "we were visiting the Grand Canyon. One evening in a bar, we heard a radio announcement that the atomic test that was previously scheduled for that day had been canceled because of high winds. Luis commented, 'Those damn fools don't know what they're fooling around with.' Another man at the bar volunteered, 'They're taking tremendous precautions -- it won't hurt anyone but a few animals. All roads in and out of the area are closed.' He sounded well-informed, so we dropped the subject, and forgot about it.
"Early the next morning, we left for Zion National Park. I was driving and remember turning off the car radio, as there was no reception in the canyon. We were awestruck by the rugged beauty of the scenery -- I don't have any idea exactly how long we were there."
Pavlowski asked me if we knew the bomb had gone off. "No, we'd never thought of it since leaving the hotel." Now I thought back on how stupid we had been.
He interrupted, "What kind of car were you in? Were the windows down?"
"Oh yes. It was a station wagon. It was a beautiful, warm day, and we had the windows wide open."
"Where were you stopped?" He was making notes.
"We had driven through the towns of Mesquite and St. George, which are in Utah. Shortly after we left St. George, three men in army fatigues signaled us to pull over."
"Were there no signs warning you to stay off the road -- anything to that effect? Had you seen any other army personnel?"
"No, we were just driving along, enjoying the beauty of the desert."
"And the soldiers? What then?"
'They were three young corporals. One asked, 'Where have you come from?' When we explained, he said, 'But that road is closed. Don't you know there's been an atomic fallout?' We didn't know a thing. I thought back to the scene. How oblivious we had been. I pointed out that we hadn't seen and couldn't have heard anything.
"One of the soldiers in a uniform one size too big commented, There's been a slip-up somewhere; the roads in that area are closed from the Canadian border to Mexico.' They told us to get out of the car so they could do some testing. One of them pulled out an instrument, explaining, 'This Geiger counter tests for radioactivity.'"
"At this request, I raised my foot while he held the instrument to my moccasin. I saw the red needle go to the top, and asked, 'What does that mean?'''
"It says you're hot, lady."
"Foolishly, I answered, 'Oh, thank you.'''
"Luis reprimanded me, 'This is not funny, Nancy.' Then they tested the car, and pronounced it the hottest one they had seen that day."
"You mean other cars happened through also?" asked the doctor. "Apparently."
"What about the people who live in those towns you mentioned? Were they evacuated?"
"No. We asked about that. They were warned to keep their windows shut and stay indoors until advised differently."
Dr. Pavlowski sighed. "About what time of day was it?"
"Mid-afternoon. They sent us about a halt-hour's drive down the road to what they called a decontamination center. There the car was washed approximately six times and each time retested with the Geiger counter."
"What did you and your husband do during this time?"
"Well, Luis was angry. He asked one of the soldiers, 'How do you know if you've received a dangerous dose of this radiation?' The soldier wasn't very tactful. 'Oh, you'll know. You'll get nauseated, your hair will begin to fallout, and you may go blind.'
"'For Christ's sake!' was Luis's response. His Latin blood boiled over. There was a saloon across the street. We went there. Luis ordered a double scotch, only to be told by the bartender, 'Sorry, sir, it's a state election day, and in Nevada we can't serve alcohol 'til after seven.' That's when the you-know-what hit the fan."
Pavlowski's eyes never left my face.
"And then what did you do, see a doctor?"
"No. When we returned to the car, we were given a package of soap and told to bathe and wash our hair with it. We were to put our clothes in a laundry bag and send them to the cleaners." So they could contaminate everybody else's, flashed through my mind. "It was suggested we have a blood count taken in about six months, but we really didn't know enough to be worried."
"Yes, go on."
"Well, there's not much more to tell. The road to Overton, Nevada, where we had planned to stay with relatives, was closed. So we went straight to Las Vegas where my aunt and uncle came and met us instead. That night Luis and Uncle Fred drank up practically all the scotch in town."
The doctor was now conversing with himself. "So that makes it about 19 to 20 months ago -- that figures." "What do you mean?" I held my breath, not wanting to hear the answer.
"Most of the victims of Nagasaki and Hiroshima, who didn't die during the blast, developed this particular acute type of leukemia and died between 18 months and 2 years after the fallout."
"Oh, Doctor Pavlowski, do you really think this is the same thing? Isn't there any chance it could be something else?" I was begging for hope.
"My dear, I wish I could tell you differently, but you've asked me to be truthful. I know of no case where a patient has lasted longer than ten months with this illness. And, I've never seen a more virulent case." He went on to describe how the cells looked like little walking canes under the microscope. There could be no mistake. I clenched my fists to my mouth.
"Your husband will have a crisis in ten days. If he lives through that, he can live from two to ten months, allowing that he can tolerate the medication."
He looked directly at me. "You should stay away from X-ray or any form of radiation for the rest of your life." This fell on deaf ears. My only interest then was Luis.
Later I asked more questions. The doctor felt the fact that Luis had had hepatitis shortly before leaving Buenos Aires had made him more vulnerable to the deadly effects of radiation. Also, he was 14 years older than I. Pavlowski said he would call Dr. John Lawrence at the University of California's Atomic Research Lab with the exact details, to find out if this information could have any bearing on his course of treatment.
"Isn't there anything else we can do? Should we get Luis to the States?"
"I don't think your husband could tolerate a long trip, but there is something we can try. I have been using a new medicine, which might help. However, I want to confer with Dr. Lawrence before administering Perinithol."
This presented another hurdle. There was only enough Perinithol in Argentina for two days of treatment; we had to obtain more from the U.S. immediately. I threw myself completely into solving this -- the momentary problem helped to stave off thinking of the future, but when I heard Mother's voice on the phone and told her of Luis's illness, I broke down for the first time. It made me realize how far away I was, how alone.
Mother promised to put the Perinithol on the first Pan Am flight, so treatment commenced. Luis responded well; his blood count held up between transfusions, and Harry became optimistic that he would survive the first crisis. We hung on every straw. I took hope. If we could just get him home where we could build up his strength for the second crisis. Two to ten months -- anything could happen in that amount of time. I would not allow myself to think otherwise.
I spent every possible hour in Luis's room treasuring each moment, trying to imprint every sound, every touch into my memory. During the periods between headaches and relapses, Luis was especially lively-particularly after the transfusions. Switching from subject to subject and waving his arms for emphasis, he was his animated, handsome, and cheerful self. It seemed unbelievable that he could be dying. I watched for signs of the coming crisis. I prayed for a miracle.
Leslie Pepper, an old friend of Luis's, came to the hospital daily to relieve me, so that I could dash home to check on our household. Miss Julia, our nine-month-old baby's nurse, was aware of the gravity of Luis's condition, but I said little to the boys, not wanting to alarm them. I'd decided to wait until we got Luis home. On the eighth day, Leslie took me aside and said, "I think we're in for trouble. Luis is hemorrhaging again."
"But Harry said that he was much better."
"He said that yesterday. Now he's worried that the medicine is losing its effect. Nancy, there's just no point in fooling ourselves." I didn't want to admit it, but I too had noticed how Luis's urine bottles were black with blood. He sneezed blood. His gums were raw. Dr. Pavlowski had predicted he would die of a cerebral hemorrhage. I was terrified. Harry reassured Luis that it was the body just throwing off some blood from the transfusions. I wondered if Luis suspected the truth but was afraid to ask.
Leslie had not given up hope. He said, "Theodore Hicks is in town again. I've arranged for you to meet him."
The previous year, Hicks, an American evangelist, had come to Argentina on a tour of the major South American cities. Quoting the Bible, he affected instantaneous healings before the multitudes who jammed into the theaters and stadiums to hear him. The newspapers were filled with stories of his miraculous cures. Leslie's daughter, who had Down syndrome, had been helped by her encounter with Hicks. This I had helped to arrange. Now Leslie wanted to do the same in reverse.
"I think you should see him ... even Peron has told the Catholic Church to put up or shut up. He suggested they demonstrate the same kind of healing that Hicks was doing for hundreds in Buenos Aires every day."
"But of course I'll go to see him. He may be the miracle we've been praying for. Thank you, thank you, my dear friend." A visit with the faith healer presented a ray of hope. If only my faith were strong enough, God would help.
So the next evening, as I sat in The Continental Hotel lobby waiting to see Hicks, I prayed for strength. Also, "Not Luis, please do not take Luis." I didn't want to face life without him. I promised to atone for any sins I might have committed. I hadn't meant to hurt Dick when I took the children away. Mentally, I went through any acts of mine that had caused unhappiness for others.
I made all sorts of promises, if only my husband could be saved. But I felt so alone. Then is when a strong faith would have helped me.
Mr. Hicks's secretary found me in the lobby and escorted me upstairs to the evangelist's room. If I had not been led to him, I never would have noticed him. He was a man of medium build with salt-and-pepper gray hair. He wore a baggy suit, but his appearance belied the conviction in his steady, pale blue eyes, which penetrated me as he opened the door.
"Come in, my child. There is help for all who seek it in the house of God." Mr. Hicks's measured tone was smooth and rich. "Your friend told me of your beloved husband's illness. We will speak of that later, but first let us talk about you."
He motioned for me to sit on the couch next to him. "Do you believe that the Almighty Father has unlimited power?"
"Yes."
"Do you pray?"
"Yes, constantly. I talk to God and to Jesus and implore them to heal Luis and to give me strength. My words may sound trite, but God knows what is in my heart and how desperate I feel." The dam broke, and the tears I had been holding back poured out.
"It is better to let the tears come first, my child," he whispered. "Then we will pray together and ask God to send you strength."
When I regained control, Mr. Hicks asked me to kneel and put my arms around his waist while he stood holding my head in his hands. He intoned a prayer in a loud, firm voice. "Lord God Almighty, we stand here in your presence .... "
A soothing calm came over me. I could feel the ringing words of his prayer permeating me, bypassing my comprehension. Mr. Hicks prayed that God would give me strength to pass through my ordeal, that I might have great faith, knowing that only faith would help me in the days to come. He was not praying for Luis, but for me!
I felt better and we made plans for Mr. Hicks to visit Luis the following morning. I also warned, "Luis doesn't know what he has, or the severity of his illness. Have I been wrong in not telling him the truth? The doctor suggested waiting until later."
"No, my child. We all must make decisions. You are doing a kindly thing. You want to save your husband. He will know when it is his time to die." A smile transformed his solemn demeanor.
"As for my call, I will tell him that I am visiting various floors in the hospital and make the whole meeting seem accidental."
When the evangelist dropped in the next day, Luis received him cordially. I left the room so that they could be alone. When I returned Mr. Hicks had departed, and Luis described a remarkable scene. "The old boy asked me about my life, my beliefs, and whether there was anything burdening my conscience. I told him I hoped I had not caused anybody harm, and if I had, it was not with bad intention." Luis went on, "He then had me put my arms around his waist and asked me to pray with him. When Hicks touched my head, my sinuses, congested by this hemorrhaging, suddenly cleared, and I could smell all of the roses in the room! Nancy, that man has something -- some quality of tremendous spirituality. I'm delighted he came to this room."
Did Luis secretly sense his great danger? Happiness and hope flooded my being -- maybe a miracle had happened.
"So cheer up my love, before you know it I'll be as good as new. That transfusion really did the trick." He ruffled my hair -- his eyes full of light again.
But, by afternoon, while I watched in panic, the hemorrhaging turned into a deluge. Luis complained of a dreadful headache. Narco and oxygen were administered, but eventually even they could not control the pain. Luis's last words to me before he went into a coma were, "Que dolor, mi pobre cabeza -- mi querida, mi querida. " ("What pain, my poor head -- my dear, my dear.") I held his hands and the doctor and I watched as his respiration stopped. His strong heart kept beating, and then gradually, without oxygen, his pulse disappeared and my Luis was gone from me.
The doctor left the room. I sat there with Luis's quiet hand in mine. I became aware of the fragrance of roses in the room. The nurses came in shortly to prepare Luis. I asked them not to take the lamp away that I had brought from home. It was on the bedside table next to him and its light was soft and so much nicer than that of the harsh overhead light of the hospital room. I was then led down the hall to a room. I was in such shock I thought nothing, felt nothing, saw nothing. I was then told that certain decisions must be made now. And so I did.
I then asked to be alone with my husband for the last time. I stroked his hair and thanked him for the happiness he had given me. I knew I would never love another person with the passion I had felt for him. Later, when I was taken home, Miss Julia, the nurse, said that Maria Luisa started to cry inconsolably at the exact moment of her father's death.
Early the next morning I went into the garden and cut all the beautiful blossoms off of Luis's favorite tree. They would cover his casket. Then I gathered my three sons and gently broke the news that our Luis had left us. Rikki, the eldest at ten, asked, "Will we have lots of problems, Mom?" My answer was, "Yes." He volunteered to get a job to help the family.
The months that followed brought an agony I cannot describe. Slowly, through my overwhelming sorrow came the realization of our predicament. It arose like a slow sunrise, its rays lighting up the valleys of my dilemma. It would have been easier to lie down and die of a broken heart the way dogs often do after losing a master. Until then grief had been a foreign sensation for me; now I was overwhelmed by its unrelenting persistence. It enveloped me during sleepless nights, it made my throat refuse food -- and yet, I had to pull myself together -- I was in a faraway land with four dependent children and almost no money.
Our protector, benefactor, and interpreter was gone, and the wolves were forming a ring outside our door. Amongst them were some of Luis's immediate family who had never met or accepted me. As we were never legally married in Argentina, now I was not recognized as the legal wife, and all payments from the office ceased. Four months before, we'd bought our wonderful old house out of a German estate. I paid the first payment of $35,000 cash, the money I'd brought to support the boys; Luis was to pay me back when his money from Uruguay arrived, but this never happened.
It wasn't only a financial dilemma. I had brought my children to Argentina without the permission of their father. Now, from bitterness he wrote, "You made your own bed, so lie in it." He refused us any help and let me know he would take me to court on my return to the United States. So bridges had been burned behind us.
But maybe in the long run it was a blessing to have all these problems. It made me stay busy. I had to discipline my thoughts -- if I cried all night, I was useless the next day. It was as though I couldn't even afford the luxury of my own terrible grief. Too much depended on my staying strong.
As much as Mother feared flying, she came from California. She will never know what this meant to me -- meeting her at the airport brought the first ray of sunshine into my heart since Luis's death. After appraising our situation, she got us moving. We had a sale such as diplomats often do when leaving an assignment. We sold the house and many of our valuable belongings. The boys set up a table and sold their blue jeans and boxes of bubble gum.
Mother left after two months, but it took more than a year to unscramble our affairs. Between legal matters and the revolution, which ousted Peron, it was a tumultuous time. The only time I felt any serenity was when I sat by Luis's grave. I accepted the fact that there was a reason why he had to die; I never questioned God's will, but thanked that force for allowing me the three years of happiness we'd had.
I couldn't bear the word eternity and had engraved on Luis's headstone, Sleep Peacefully Beloved Until We Meet Again. If there were justice in the universe, and there had to be, I figured it involved continuity of lifetimes. (I wasn't familiar with the term reincarnation then.) I continued to dwell on Mr. Hicks and his remarkable conviction and longed to believe myself.
I had so many questions to be answered. I envied him his unquestioning faith. Shortly after Luis's death he sent me a note saying, "Do not worry about your husband's soul. His talk with me had the quality of a full confession. He died with God's grace."
I believed him, and it was then that my thirst began, a thirst for answers, a thirst for a trust to be used as a faith, a support, should such a terrible grief engulf me again. And I knew that when I found a belief that worked for me, like Mr. Hicks, I would tell the world about it.
The warm Indian sun was shining in my room. It took a minute to realize where I was ... in the hotel in Dharamsala. I had fallen asleep in a sitting position. Had it all been a dream? Sometimes on awakening I prayed my worlds were reversed, that Luis's death had been just a nightmare. But this was reality. However, I knew one question had been answered. My search was not ended. It was just beginning. It was time to take some real steps into a new dimension, the world of going within, the world of spirit, of justice and self-knowledge. I hastily dressed. I had many questions to ask Kazi. This was an opportunity not to be lost.
by Nancy Cooke de Herrera
Foreword by Deepak Chopra
© 2003 by Nancy Cooke de Herrera
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2. An Offering of Miracles
FOR WEEKS WE TRAVELED by rickshaw, oxcart, train, taxi, and bus. Sometimes during that month our quest was in vain, other times successful. Our bedrolls got grimier by the day, but the soul of India had entered my heart. This exotic land captivated me, and my mind was being blown open by what I was witnessing.
In Srinagar, capital of Kashmir, we interviewed a young boy with a special ability. By covering his head with a black bag and concentrating on the whereabouts of a particular person described to him, he would go into a trance, and tell in detail the location of that individual. By this method he had helped the police recover the body of a drowned child after all other attempts had failed. The body was covered by weeds in Dal Lake.
Near Amritsar, then capital of Punjab, a man read the Bhrigu Samhita, the book of life, for us. Finding the corresponding palm leaf, marked in mulberry juice with the correct astrological signs for that day, he told Tom his past, present, and future; as it turned out, he was accurate about the past, but way off on the future.
Tom was so hopeful and became exasperated with me when on occasion I would point out how easily something could have been faked. After one demonstration I spoke out, "Give me an hour and all those robes and I bet I could do better. You talk about scientific, controlled conditions -- that was a complete con-job!" I was worried that Tom, in his eagerness to find phenomena, would be fooled.
By late March, we looked forward to one of the highlights of our expedition -- a visit to Dharamsala to see the Dalai Lama, God-King of the Tibetans. We lucked out; a forest ranger lent us his jeep and driver. However, while passing through the Kumaon Forest, made famous by Jim Corbett's book on tiger hunting in this region, we got stuck in a river. Night was falling, and our driver became increasingly anxious about man-eating tigers, "See those cliffs ahead, Memsahib; the people are too poor to burn their dead, so they throw the bodies over the cliffs. The tigers are used to man-meat."
This news startled us. Tom remarked, "All we have to protect ourselves are fishing poles. Maybe we'd better listen to the driver and spend the night in the temple he insists on going to."
I was so disappointed; I'd been looking forward to the hotel in Dharamsala -- especially to the use of a Western toilet. It was a ghastly night, surrounded by sleeping and coughing bodies. Poor people; I'm sure I heard a few give a last agonized gasp. In the morning I insisted on taking a cold bath out of a bucket, "I'm not going to call on a God-King covered with negative vibrations." Tom tolerated my outburst; I'd been a good sport so far.
Dharamsala, where His Holiness resided, is near the Tibetan border at 7,000 feet. As we wound up the mountain, we observed the precautions the Indian Army was taking to protect the revered holy man. At every turn were tanks, guns, and troops. India had granted him political asylum after his spectacular escape from Tibet. For three months after leaving Lhasa, the God-King, and the thousands who followed him into exile, disappeared until he arrived in India. The Chinese planned to kill him and put the Panchen Lama in his place.
Just before reaching the summit, we met a large group of Tibetan children parading down the hill, each carrying a long white scarf. They greeted us with happy faces, cheeks pink from the brisk air. With youthful energy they hailed us, "Jole, where are you from? California, is that in America?"
An older man, who seemed to be in charge, came forward. He wore a Tibetan hat, its crown covered with dusty brocade; the fur-lined earflaps were turned up like a Dutch girl's cap. His heavy, black padded robe hung below his knees and was thrown off one shoulder and caught in the middle by a wide leather belt. A long turquoise and coral earring hung from one ear only. When he smiled, he showed large, stained teeth.
"It is most auspicious that you arrive at this time. His Holiness has just come out of two weeks of silence. Today we are celebrating the second anniversary of his escape from Lhasa. These children were just received by him." He gave us directions and went on his way.
With renewed excitement, we continued up the steep grade. When we came to the gate and the guards protecting the holy residence, we presented the letter we had prepared in advance requesting an audience. Within minutes, a young man with a gaunt, high-cheekboned face approached us from within the official compound.
"I am Sonam Kazi, interpreter for His Holiness." He held out his hand in greeting, and shook ours with enthusiasm. "If you will follow me, I will take you to him. He will be very happy to receive you on this special day." We were elated. Kazi's English was excellent.
We followed his long, black-coated figure up the hill to what must have been an old English summer bungalow with green wooden shingles, and leaded glass windows. It was surrounded by pine trees and overlooked a magnificent view of the mountains and Gangetic plains below. I could feel the altitude as we walked up the Lingkor, the holy path that circled the residence in exile. We passed pilgrims making rounds, repeating their mantras, and spinning their miniature prayer wheels.
We entered a friendly, faded-chintz-covered room. There was the assorted furniture usually found in summer places -- what didn't fit somewhere else was sent here. The floor was covered with Tibetan carpets of all sizes; the furniture was large, overstuffed, and comfortable. Little wooden tables, an umbrella stand, thangkas, books, magazines -- all added to the busy friendliness of the room. Kazi stopped us. "No, you do not need to take off your shoes."
Before we could be seated, a tall young man briskly entered the room from the rear. A spicy scent of incense arrived with him. His face was long and cleanly shaven. He wore eyeglasses, which accented his penetrating gaze. We knew him to be in his late twenties.
Kazi stepped forward, "I have the honor of presenting His Holiness, the Dalai Lama." We made the sign of namaste. I presented my khata, a white ceremonial scarf, and we seated ourselves as directed on the couch. I was thrilled -- we were sitting two feet away from a God-King.
The Dalai Lama wore Western men's shoes and trousers; a long, wine-colored robe with saffron-colored lining covered these. His right hand fingered his prayer beads. As we related, through Kazi, the purpose of our trip, he watched our faces with keen interest. However, he brushed aside the subject of psychic phenomena. "What Iwant you to hear is about the genocide being practiced against my people by the Chinese. The outside world does not know the truth."
The cruelties he spoke of were almost unbelievable -- the killing of thousands of priests, the raping of nuns, the refugees fleeing out over treacherous mountain passes with new stories of their ruthless captors.
"Hundreds of monasteries have been destroyed. These were the centers of our Tibetan culture."
As he told us of the thousands who had lost their lives in attempting to escape, his serious face was filled with sadness. "Instead of bringing their own belongings, they carried out the holy scriptures, the Kangyur, printed on palm leaves hundreds of years old and carefully wrapped in cloth." Kazi brought one for us to see.
Presenting khata to His Holiness the Dali Lama (Dharamsala, India, 1962).
"In order to keep our tradition alive, we must get as many young children out of Tibet as possible. We need money to build schools. Switzerland, Norway, and the United States have been very kind to us. We will get our country back one day, but it may be a hundred years or so. Time means nothing to a Tibetan."
Soon the hour we had been allotted had passed. Catching Tom's eye, I signaled it was time. Kazi nodded his head in agreement. Standing up, we expressed our thanks to His Holiness for receiving us, and I added, "You can be sure I will pass on all I have heard to my audiences, and Mr. Slick will help through his education foundation. He has a special affection for Tibetans and Sherpas ever since he organized a group of them and went hunting for the Yeti."
"What do you know about the Yeti?" came in English from His Holiness. It surprised us to hear him speak directly after having spoken through an interpreter for an hour. Now he came forward, took each of us by the arm, and said, "Please stay; my English is poor, but there is much to talk about."
"Do you believe in the existence of the Yeti?" I asked.
"First, tell me what you know about the Yeti."
Luckily, Tom always carried photos of the evidence he had collected to prove the existence of this legendary creature. He dug into his pockets, and minutes later the three of us had our heads together like a group of conspirators. The pictures were of Yeti footprints, a skull, the droppings, and a lair where the creature supposedly gave birth.
As I sat there, I kept reminding myself who this man was. He was so likeable and easygoing. Tom had told me, "For two years after the death of the thirteenth Dalai Lama, the court lamas searched until they found him as a small child." While a youth, he was cloistered from contact with outsiders except on religious occasions, yet at this moment he was like any young man, swapping adventure stories.
Everyone who lived in Dharamsala, and thousands of Tibetan refugees in India, were there only to be near him, the same man who at this point was asking Tom to describe the droppings of the Yeti!
Only after exhausting Tom's information did His Holiness tell us, "Yes, I am convinced of the existence of the Yeti. One of my most respected lamas told me of a creature who would come each day and help him draw water from the well. It was very similar to yours, Mr. Slick."
His face was animated now; it was easy to see this was a subject of great interest to him. "Another lama reported to me that a similar creature would visit his hermitage every week or so to eat the grain he spread out on the frozen ground. He knew when it was approaching by the strong smell that preceded it."
'That is evidently why it got the name of the Abominable Snowman," added Tom. "Was he ever able to tame this creature?"
"No, but it continued its visits for a long period of time -- especially during the winter months when food was hard to find. They usually eat the blossoms of the rhododendron trees and wild berries. They are not carnivorous."
All barriers to friendship were soon dissolved when Tom volunteered to raise money for schools. His Holiness then came forward with an offer, which electrified us. "I am convinced of your dedication, Mr. Slick. If you will bear all expenses of the project, I will send three of my lamas to your foundation in Texas, and they will exhibit the power of man to levitate, materialize objects, and to pull the load of seven elephants under duress!"
We were stunned. Was it possible? Our search was over; Tom had found what he had come to India for. I was elated at having been part of such an important expedition. Plans were made for follow through, and when we finally took leave, we shook hands with the God-King, promising to tell the Western world about the Chinese atrocities.
We floated down the hill to where Ranjit awaited, as the guards had not allowed him to accompany us. He would be so happy to return home. On many occasions he had asked me, "Are all Americans so full of energy?" He had difficulty in keeping up with us.
Little fat dogs yapped at our feet, and soon a curious crowd gathered around us while we related our experience to our Indian companion. Kazi explained, "Many of them have never seen a European before. They would like you to share tea with them."
Smiling, Tom watched me as I took my first sip.
"Oh my God, what's in this?"
He laughed, "It is tea made with rancid yak butter and salt; it is very good for keeping the body temperature up in cold weather."
The taste was unexpected and nauseating. It prompted my ungracious reply, "The heck with my temperature going up, my problem will be in keeping the tea down!"
***
3. Atomic Death
By EUROPEAN STANDARDS, the Dharamsala hotel could hardly be called deluxe, but it had electricity. So that night, after a shower, I settled down to read some Buddhist literature and to think back on the interview with His Holiness. Feeling chilly, I decided to plug in the small wall-heater. As I inserted the plug, all the lights went out. Looking out the window, I could see the whole place was in darkness. Soon a bearer came with a candle, "So sorry, Memsahib, somebody plug in heater and blowout all lights. Man come fix tomorrow." So much for my evening of reading.
The weak candle threw strange images against the walls, but I felt cozy in my room alone. It was pleasant to let my mind wander back over the past month calling on certain spiritual personalities -- holy men. There had been few moments of solitude in which to do so.
It appeared that Tom had been successful in his quest, but what about mine? I'd certainly found plenty of lecture material, as well as colorful, ethnic costumes for my show. That afternoon I'd bought articles of clothing from the refugees, which would help me illustrate the dramatic story of the Tibetans. But what about that other dimension -- the spiritual world which was beginning to intrigue me? I had felt such serenity while sitting at the feet of the holy men we'd called on. It was a serenity I had not felt for years, and I was not going to let it slip away. Had I been guided to India by this inner need? I seemed ripe for the knowledge I was receiving.
After seven years of reading and searching I had come to certain conclusions, but it was here in India that those conclusions were taking form and being expressed back to me in words. These words excited me; they pointed to a path for me to follow. I needed a belief that would serve as an insurance policy, an insulator, against ever again experiencing the terrible grief that had engulfed me after my late husband's death.
A deep sadness came into the silence around me as a face drifted into my consciousness -- it was the face of a handsome, dark-haired man with golden lights in his brown eyes. His finely chiseled features were full of intelligence and humor. Everything about him exuded energy and passion. Oh, beloved Luis, what a short time we had together, but what an impact you have had on my life! Yes, he was the love of my life, and what joy we shared -- more happiness and excitement than most people would know in a lifetime.
My thoughts went back to our meeting.
It was summer 1951 -- my first trip to Europe. One evening in Paris, my French friend Huguette Empain had implored me, "I know you are exhausted by parties, but you must join us, we need you. We have three attractive Americans who drove in the Le Mans last week. You won't have to struggle with French; they all speak English. Be a good sport and meet us at eleven o'clock at the Plaza Athene." She would not take no for an answer.
Luis told me later that when he saw me in the distance, he thought to himself, "Hope she is the one joining us." He said he liked the way I was dressed, the way I walked, and the way I came up and in a friendly way said, "Hi, I'm Nancy Cooke." Nothing coy, nothing mysterious.
What a night it was! We went to Dinashads, a Russian restaurant specializing in caviar-filled blinis. These were washed down by quantities of champagne. Every time we drank a glass, presented to us on a violin, we emptied it and threw it into the fireplace. Later, while dancing at Jimmy's, Luis led me into a slow tango. Wrapping our bodies together, as is customary with this sensuous dance, he made me terribly aware of the intimacy we shared. I liked the smell of his hair and the feeling of his strong body pressed to mine. I surrendered myself totally to his directions. When the music stopped, he slowly let me go, saying, "I think I've been searching for you all of my life." I laughed and discounted his words, "Isn't it wonderful what magic champagne creates."
It was 8:30 A.M. when I returned to my hotel. Five hours later I met Luis de Herrera for brunch at the Ritz. I was curious as to how I'd find him by day. Iwas puzzled by the deep impression he'd made on me. Maybe I'd be disappointed. But he looked even better, in spite of a lack of sleep. When he entered a room, something changed-his vitality radiated to all. Six-foot-three and powerfully built, he had been the amateur golf champion of every South American country. He had played in the British Open just before coming to Le Mans to meet his pal Briggs Cunningham, the veteran U.S. racing driver. Although born in London, he was actually a Uruguayan citizen living in Buenos Aires, Argentina. Educated both in Spain and France, he'd finished his schooling at Cambridge. All of this I had found out the night before.
Now across the table we discreetly probed to find out more about each other. He took the initiative, "I've known and liked many North Americans, but you are not typical. Huguette said you were in your twenties, but you have a quiet confidence, a worldliness beyond your years. Where does this come from?"
Nancy posing with Ester Williams (Honolulu, 1949).
What a question. I laughed, "Two months ago my divorce was finalized, after nine years of marriage in Honolulu. Also, I'm the mother of three little boys who at present are spending their vacation holidays with their father, while their mother takes her first trip to Europe." I made a sweeping gesture. "So there it all is, my life history."
"No, I want to know more. You are very at home in the world and have a natural ease with people. I watched you closely last night, or didn't you notice?" He was persistent. "Tell me more about your background, your family."
"Well, I had a wonderful childhood shared by two look-alike sisters, which made life even more fun. I went to Stanford University for three years before getting married to Richard Cooke, and lived in Honolulu during the war."
"That must have been interesting."
"It was fascinating. As all the military wives were sent home, we local women were in great demand. We became hostesses for the top army and navy officers -- we became good friends with Admiral Nimitz and Admiral Halsey especially."
"Was your husband in the military service?"
"Not before the war. After Pearl Harbor he became a naval officer."
"So it was a command performance when the top boys invited you."
"Yes. As a matter of fact, Admiral Towers, who was head of Naval Air for the Pacific, included my husband and me at all his functions. He even sent his aide to teach me how to make a perfect martini."
"I like that man's style."
"It was a unique experience; we were in on everything. Also, I took part in community theater and helped entertain the troops."
He laughed, "My question is well answered."
"Thank you, but now tell me about yourself."
"I'm a banker by profession, on an extended holiday. But this I talked about last night. I am married and have four children."
My heart registered dismay, but it was just as well. It was best not to get involved with anyone yet; I needed time to enjoy my newly won freedom.
Then I heard Luis add, "But I no longer live with my wife. We have a separacion del cue, po (a legal separation), as there is no divorce law in Argentina."
Not so safe after all.
As we talked, something special was happening. So-called experts have reported that we know these things within ten minutes. His eyes searched mine and found answers. A part of me quietly suggested caution. Things were moving too fast.
We spent several days visiting Versailles, touring the French countryside, and eating in small inns. Luis was full of enthusiasm. His French was fluent, as well as his knowledge of French art and history. I could not have picked a more attractive guide. We ran over with words -- we had so much to talk about. Knowing that he was leaving in a few days' time, and that this relationship could go nowhere, I kept him at arms distance -- actually was shy about allowing him into a more intimate relationship -- I'd been off the "dating market" for such a long time, and I was unsure of myself.
Nancy berating a longshoreman at a "We the Women" picket line (LIFE: MAGAZINE, July 20, 1949).
He mentioned he would be in England at the same time I'd be visiting my friend Nancy Oakes (well-known to the press because of the notoriety resulting from the grisly murder of her father, Sir Harry Oakes, in Nassau during World War II). I'd given him my London address, and as I said goodbye in Paris, I silently prayed, "Please call me. I do want to see you again." How little I knew; maybe he had a ladyfriend already there waiting for him.
Several days later, arriving at Heathrow, there was Luis waiting for me! I was so surprised -- he looked unbelievably handsome. My heart almost burst as he embraced me and kissed me in a very gentle way.
His first words delighted me. "Something came up unexpectedly. Your friend Nancy has gone to Scotland for a few days. I told her I'd meet you and be your guide. She agreed it would be more convenient for her to have you stay at the London Ritz where I am until she returns."
The staff at the Ritz greeted me with great warmth. They had known Luis during his Cambridge days. I was a bit perplexed when we came to a suite of rooms connecting to the public hall through one common door. But my room was on the left and Luis's on the right, so I said nothing.
"Do your unpacking, and then come over to me for a lovely English high tea," invited my handsome guide. (It actually crossed my mind as to how we would keep our bills straight. I was so naive.)
Needless to say, once I crossed that hall, I never got back to my room again except to bathe and change clothes.
Nancy with Johny Gomez and Jimmy and Gloria Stewart (Honolulu, 1950)
Luis with great gentleness introduced me to the passion my body was capable of and had never experienced. Until then it had been easy to keep my distance with men -- sex was no big thing as far as I knew. Arriving at the altar as a virgin, I found my wedding night a total disappointment. Why all the hoopla about this painful, messy act? Time didn't seem to help. Dick and I had no "fire" between us and I slowly became a "frigid wife." But now, with an experienced partner, possessing a body chemistry perfectly matched to mine, a whole new world of sensations opened up.
Several days later Luis confessed, "I called Nancy Oakes and told her you would be delayed a week -- maybe you'd better give her a ring."
So she had been there all the time! She howled when I explained, and said, "Go off and enjoy yourself, I'll be here all summer."
Luis and I had fallen desperately in love by the time we joined his Australian friend Peter Reid, and spent a month touring France, Switzerland, and Monaco. It was a storybook trip, one that would make us suffer more when we parted. We could not stay together; there were too many obstacles, but knowing it didn't make it easier.
Luis followed me to New York and then to Los Angeles, delaying our eventual separation. Finally, with despair, we agreed to go our separate ways. He returned to Argentina and his family, and I to Honolulu to bring the boys back to California for school. My enchanted summer was over.
The joy of being reunited with my precious, blonde-haired, little sons helped my aching heart, but it was an emotional time for me. I'd closed a nine-year chapter in my life, and would now move away from my circle of supportive friends. We had all been newlyweds and first-time parents together -- our roots were deep. My mother-in-law, whom I loved, had asked me not to stay in the Islands for Dick's sake.
Raising the morale of wounded Korean War soldiers at Tripler Hospital (Honolulu, 1950).
So, even though I was relieved to have my divorce behind me, I felt both apprehension and hopeful expectations as I returned to the San Francisco Bay area.
Getting my family resettled and moved into a new house kept me so busy that life began to fill in, even though I longed for Luis. Then in October a letter arrived. He wrote, "You are under no obligation to me, but I can't go on as it is. I will get a divorce in Uruguay and Mexico. Only when I am completely free will I appear in your life again. Darling girl, I refuse to envision a future without you!"
I didn't come down from the clouds for days; my happiness wiped away all problems. Everything would be worked out in time. What I knew for now was that it was possible! Six long months later, Luis came to California and formally called on my father to ask for my hand.
Then Dick came for a visit with our sons. While staying at my sister's, he agreed to my taking the boys to Argentina. This was a big relief to me, as I had to have his written permission to take them out of the U.S. (Foolishly, I thought his oral promise was good enough.) It was agreed that I would send the boys to Honolulu for the summer, and go to Argentina, select schools, and so on, and then return for them in September. We would make the trip back to Buenos Aires together.
So with good faith I made my plans. Only when I looked at a map and saw how far away Buenos Aires was did I have butterflies in my stomach. It was as far away from San Francisco as Australia. My family had mixed emotions. They were happy for my joy, but felt sad about my going such a distance. However, I had no choice; Luis's family banking business was there, and this was the source of his income.
On June 26, 1952, one year from the day we met in Paris, I joined my husband-to-be in Chile; from there we traveled to Argentina. The country was in turmoil over the impending death of Evita Peron. All nightlife was subdued as the people waited, but it hardly affected us. All we needed was each other. Luis would go to the office for an hour, and then return home for lunch to make sure I was not homesick. Luckily, he had a good Scottish manager to run things.
After selecting a fine British school, ordering uniforms, and getting everything ready for the children, Luis and I went to Montevideo, Uruguay to be married. We were so happy, even though I wished my family could have been there with us.
Then the bomb dropped. Dick wrote saying he would never let the boys come to Argentina. He had waited until I was married and could not change my mind.
Nancy and Luis: the happy couple (Monte Carlo, 1951)
Nancy and Luis: the happy couple (Monte Carlo, 1951)
It threw me into a complete panic, soon to be replaced by rage. Luis comforted me with plans to return together to the U.S. for Christmas. So began my custody battle with the Cooke family, one that dragged on and on.
On April 12, 1954, my birthday, our daughter Maria Luisa was born -- what a heavenly time! It was also a time to make another decision, one the boys begged me to make. So, after trying for two years through lawyers and repeated lengthy stays in California, I took the whole family back to Argentina without the written permission of anybody.
I took enough money with me to support the boys until their father came to his senses. Now my happiness was complete. We all adored the baby, Luis was a supportive and admired stepfather, and we bought a large house outside the city near the school. Everything was going beautifully when, six months later, tragedy struck.
On returning from a New Year's Eve party, Luis had been violently sick. He recovered, but didn't feel normal for a couple of weeks, so we decided he should check into the British Hospital for a check-up. As a typical Argentine, he was sure it was something wrong with his liver.
How I remember that dreadful day -- every minute is engraved on my heart. It was the 15th of January, a beautiful summer day. A battery of diagnostic tests were run, and we were waiting in his room for the results.
Finally, Harry Fergusson, Luis's doctor and old golfing friend, came in with a handful of papers and announced, "Well, pal, I'm afraid my suspicions were correct. You have a blood intoxication. It must have been what you ate the night you became so sick."
"That Chilean lobster?" asked Luis.
"Very likely. Anyway, you're not going to get over it immediately. We're going to keep you here and give you regular transfusions until we wash out this reaction." Turning to me, he said, "I guess you'll be staying here for a while, dear Nancy. You'd better move your car into the shade. It's going to be a hot day. Let me walk out with you."
This was strange. I had parked my car in the shade, but I didn't say anything. Evidently, Harry wanted to talk to me alone.
Once out in the corridor, he took my elbow and guided me into a nearby waiting room. His rawboned, weathered Scots face was sad. "Nancy, Luis is seriously ill."
I don't know why, but a dreaded thought crossed my mind. I asked, "Is it leukemia?"
"Yes." His large features seemed to drop as he sighed.
"Does that mean he is going to ... to die?" I choked on the word.
''I'm afraid so, unless there is a miracle. It's rare at his age, but the leukemia is acute."
"But he's always been so strong and healthy."
"Yes, but now there will be a crisis. If we can just get him through the next ten days .... "
I was sinking into the earth. Harry's voice seemed far away as he continued, "I contacted Dr. Albert Pavlowski, head of the World Blood Society, who is luckily in Buenos Aires. I asked him to check my diagnosis, praying I or the lab made a mistake. The diagnosis is correct."
For a moment my vision expanded. Harry seemed to be standing at the opening of a distant tunnel. As if outside myself, my voice asked, "Will it be a painful death?"
"No, he'll be spared that."
Someone pulled the cork, and my whole life poured out on the floor.
I tried to grab hold of myself -- not break down. In a matter of minutes, I had to see Luis. Harry settled me back into a chair and asked a passing nurse to bring me a sedative.
He took my hands, "This will be hard. Go back and stay with Luis until Dr. Pavlowski and I return." His grip tightened. "Talk and try to appear as normal as you can. We don't want to arouse his fear. He has only a small chance of surviving this crisis, but if he panics, he won't even have that."
I don't know how I did it, but it is amazing what you can do for someone you love. Harry and I agreed it was best to convince Luis that he was reacting to lobster poisoning. If I broke down, he would guess the truth.
The next hour seemed like a hundred. Sitting on the hospital bed, running my fingers through Luis's fine black hair and chatting with him, I had to fight back thoughts of the reality crushing in on us. To me, my husband was everything a man could be. His Latin temper was counterpoised by his English heritage. He was tender, affectionate, and bombastic. How he loved to debate, an incessant devil's advocate, taking either side. Never knowing what to expect from him, I was captivated by this electric man. I looked at his strong chest and shoulders, his athletic golfer's hands and legs. He emanated health. I couldn't believe what was happening.
Finally, Harry returned with a small, fair-skinned man whose kind brown eyes looked out of a prematurely lined face. After Dr. Pavlowski examined Luis, he asked me to join him for a cup of coffee in the hospital cafe, leaving Harry and Luis talking golf.
Harry had told Pavlowski that Luis and I had been exposed to an atomic fallout 20 months before. Perhaps there was a connection. He urged me, "Please start at the beginning, and don't leave anything out. I need to get the complete picture."
"In May of '53," I began, "we were visiting the Grand Canyon. One evening in a bar, we heard a radio announcement that the atomic test that was previously scheduled for that day had been canceled because of high winds. Luis commented, 'Those damn fools don't know what they're fooling around with.' Another man at the bar volunteered, 'They're taking tremendous precautions -- it won't hurt anyone but a few animals. All roads in and out of the area are closed.' He sounded well-informed, so we dropped the subject, and forgot about it.
"Early the next morning, we left for Zion National Park. I was driving and remember turning off the car radio, as there was no reception in the canyon. We were awestruck by the rugged beauty of the scenery -- I don't have any idea exactly how long we were there."
Pavlowski asked me if we knew the bomb had gone off. "No, we'd never thought of it since leaving the hotel." Now I thought back on how stupid we had been.
He interrupted, "What kind of car were you in? Were the windows down?"
"Oh yes. It was a station wagon. It was a beautiful, warm day, and we had the windows wide open."
"Where were you stopped?" He was making notes.
"We had driven through the towns of Mesquite and St. George, which are in Utah. Shortly after we left St. George, three men in army fatigues signaled us to pull over."
"Were there no signs warning you to stay off the road -- anything to that effect? Had you seen any other army personnel?"
"No, we were just driving along, enjoying the beauty of the desert."
"And the soldiers? What then?"
'They were three young corporals. One asked, 'Where have you come from?' When we explained, he said, 'But that road is closed. Don't you know there's been an atomic fallout?' We didn't know a thing. I thought back to the scene. How oblivious we had been. I pointed out that we hadn't seen and couldn't have heard anything.
"One of the soldiers in a uniform one size too big commented, There's been a slip-up somewhere; the roads in that area are closed from the Canadian border to Mexico.' They told us to get out of the car so they could do some testing. One of them pulled out an instrument, explaining, 'This Geiger counter tests for radioactivity.'"
"At this request, I raised my foot while he held the instrument to my moccasin. I saw the red needle go to the top, and asked, 'What does that mean?'''
"It says you're hot, lady."
"Foolishly, I answered, 'Oh, thank you.'''
"Luis reprimanded me, 'This is not funny, Nancy.' Then they tested the car, and pronounced it the hottest one they had seen that day."
"You mean other cars happened through also?" asked the doctor. "Apparently."
"What about the people who live in those towns you mentioned? Were they evacuated?"
"No. We asked about that. They were warned to keep their windows shut and stay indoors until advised differently."
Dr. Pavlowski sighed. "About what time of day was it?"
"Mid-afternoon. They sent us about a halt-hour's drive down the road to what they called a decontamination center. There the car was washed approximately six times and each time retested with the Geiger counter."
"What did you and your husband do during this time?"
"Well, Luis was angry. He asked one of the soldiers, 'How do you know if you've received a dangerous dose of this radiation?' The soldier wasn't very tactful. 'Oh, you'll know. You'll get nauseated, your hair will begin to fallout, and you may go blind.'
"'For Christ's sake!' was Luis's response. His Latin blood boiled over. There was a saloon across the street. We went there. Luis ordered a double scotch, only to be told by the bartender, 'Sorry, sir, it's a state election day, and in Nevada we can't serve alcohol 'til after seven.' That's when the you-know-what hit the fan."
Pavlowski's eyes never left my face.
"And then what did you do, see a doctor?"
"No. When we returned to the car, we were given a package of soap and told to bathe and wash our hair with it. We were to put our clothes in a laundry bag and send them to the cleaners." So they could contaminate everybody else's, flashed through my mind. "It was suggested we have a blood count taken in about six months, but we really didn't know enough to be worried."
"Yes, go on."
"Well, there's not much more to tell. The road to Overton, Nevada, where we had planned to stay with relatives, was closed. So we went straight to Las Vegas where my aunt and uncle came and met us instead. That night Luis and Uncle Fred drank up practically all the scotch in town."
The doctor was now conversing with himself. "So that makes it about 19 to 20 months ago -- that figures." "What do you mean?" I held my breath, not wanting to hear the answer.
"Most of the victims of Nagasaki and Hiroshima, who didn't die during the blast, developed this particular acute type of leukemia and died between 18 months and 2 years after the fallout."
"Oh, Doctor Pavlowski, do you really think this is the same thing? Isn't there any chance it could be something else?" I was begging for hope.
"My dear, I wish I could tell you differently, but you've asked me to be truthful. I know of no case where a patient has lasted longer than ten months with this illness. And, I've never seen a more virulent case." He went on to describe how the cells looked like little walking canes under the microscope. There could be no mistake. I clenched my fists to my mouth.
"Your husband will have a crisis in ten days. If he lives through that, he can live from two to ten months, allowing that he can tolerate the medication."
He looked directly at me. "You should stay away from X-ray or any form of radiation for the rest of your life." This fell on deaf ears. My only interest then was Luis.
Later I asked more questions. The doctor felt the fact that Luis had had hepatitis shortly before leaving Buenos Aires had made him more vulnerable to the deadly effects of radiation. Also, he was 14 years older than I. Pavlowski said he would call Dr. John Lawrence at the University of California's Atomic Research Lab with the exact details, to find out if this information could have any bearing on his course of treatment.
"Isn't there anything else we can do? Should we get Luis to the States?"
"I don't think your husband could tolerate a long trip, but there is something we can try. I have been using a new medicine, which might help. However, I want to confer with Dr. Lawrence before administering Perinithol."
This presented another hurdle. There was only enough Perinithol in Argentina for two days of treatment; we had to obtain more from the U.S. immediately. I threw myself completely into solving this -- the momentary problem helped to stave off thinking of the future, but when I heard Mother's voice on the phone and told her of Luis's illness, I broke down for the first time. It made me realize how far away I was, how alone.
Mother promised to put the Perinithol on the first Pan Am flight, so treatment commenced. Luis responded well; his blood count held up between transfusions, and Harry became optimistic that he would survive the first crisis. We hung on every straw. I took hope. If we could just get him home where we could build up his strength for the second crisis. Two to ten months -- anything could happen in that amount of time. I would not allow myself to think otherwise.
I spent every possible hour in Luis's room treasuring each moment, trying to imprint every sound, every touch into my memory. During the periods between headaches and relapses, Luis was especially lively-particularly after the transfusions. Switching from subject to subject and waving his arms for emphasis, he was his animated, handsome, and cheerful self. It seemed unbelievable that he could be dying. I watched for signs of the coming crisis. I prayed for a miracle.
Leslie Pepper, an old friend of Luis's, came to the hospital daily to relieve me, so that I could dash home to check on our household. Miss Julia, our nine-month-old baby's nurse, was aware of the gravity of Luis's condition, but I said little to the boys, not wanting to alarm them. I'd decided to wait until we got Luis home. On the eighth day, Leslie took me aside and said, "I think we're in for trouble. Luis is hemorrhaging again."
"But Harry said that he was much better."
"He said that yesterday. Now he's worried that the medicine is losing its effect. Nancy, there's just no point in fooling ourselves." I didn't want to admit it, but I too had noticed how Luis's urine bottles were black with blood. He sneezed blood. His gums were raw. Dr. Pavlowski had predicted he would die of a cerebral hemorrhage. I was terrified. Harry reassured Luis that it was the body just throwing off some blood from the transfusions. I wondered if Luis suspected the truth but was afraid to ask.
Leslie had not given up hope. He said, "Theodore Hicks is in town again. I've arranged for you to meet him."
The previous year, Hicks, an American evangelist, had come to Argentina on a tour of the major South American cities. Quoting the Bible, he affected instantaneous healings before the multitudes who jammed into the theaters and stadiums to hear him. The newspapers were filled with stories of his miraculous cures. Leslie's daughter, who had Down syndrome, had been helped by her encounter with Hicks. This I had helped to arrange. Now Leslie wanted to do the same in reverse.
"I think you should see him ... even Peron has told the Catholic Church to put up or shut up. He suggested they demonstrate the same kind of healing that Hicks was doing for hundreds in Buenos Aires every day."
"But of course I'll go to see him. He may be the miracle we've been praying for. Thank you, thank you, my dear friend." A visit with the faith healer presented a ray of hope. If only my faith were strong enough, God would help.
So the next evening, as I sat in The Continental Hotel lobby waiting to see Hicks, I prayed for strength. Also, "Not Luis, please do not take Luis." I didn't want to face life without him. I promised to atone for any sins I might have committed. I hadn't meant to hurt Dick when I took the children away. Mentally, I went through any acts of mine that had caused unhappiness for others.
I made all sorts of promises, if only my husband could be saved. But I felt so alone. Then is when a strong faith would have helped me.
Mr. Hicks's secretary found me in the lobby and escorted me upstairs to the evangelist's room. If I had not been led to him, I never would have noticed him. He was a man of medium build with salt-and-pepper gray hair. He wore a baggy suit, but his appearance belied the conviction in his steady, pale blue eyes, which penetrated me as he opened the door.
"Come in, my child. There is help for all who seek it in the house of God." Mr. Hicks's measured tone was smooth and rich. "Your friend told me of your beloved husband's illness. We will speak of that later, but first let us talk about you."
He motioned for me to sit on the couch next to him. "Do you believe that the Almighty Father has unlimited power?"
"Yes."
"Do you pray?"
"Yes, constantly. I talk to God and to Jesus and implore them to heal Luis and to give me strength. My words may sound trite, but God knows what is in my heart and how desperate I feel." The dam broke, and the tears I had been holding back poured out.
"It is better to let the tears come first, my child," he whispered. "Then we will pray together and ask God to send you strength."
When I regained control, Mr. Hicks asked me to kneel and put my arms around his waist while he stood holding my head in his hands. He intoned a prayer in a loud, firm voice. "Lord God Almighty, we stand here in your presence .... "
A soothing calm came over me. I could feel the ringing words of his prayer permeating me, bypassing my comprehension. Mr. Hicks prayed that God would give me strength to pass through my ordeal, that I might have great faith, knowing that only faith would help me in the days to come. He was not praying for Luis, but for me!
I felt better and we made plans for Mr. Hicks to visit Luis the following morning. I also warned, "Luis doesn't know what he has, or the severity of his illness. Have I been wrong in not telling him the truth? The doctor suggested waiting until later."
"No, my child. We all must make decisions. You are doing a kindly thing. You want to save your husband. He will know when it is his time to die." A smile transformed his solemn demeanor.
"As for my call, I will tell him that I am visiting various floors in the hospital and make the whole meeting seem accidental."
When the evangelist dropped in the next day, Luis received him cordially. I left the room so that they could be alone. When I returned Mr. Hicks had departed, and Luis described a remarkable scene. "The old boy asked me about my life, my beliefs, and whether there was anything burdening my conscience. I told him I hoped I had not caused anybody harm, and if I had, it was not with bad intention." Luis went on, "He then had me put my arms around his waist and asked me to pray with him. When Hicks touched my head, my sinuses, congested by this hemorrhaging, suddenly cleared, and I could smell all of the roses in the room! Nancy, that man has something -- some quality of tremendous spirituality. I'm delighted he came to this room."
Did Luis secretly sense his great danger? Happiness and hope flooded my being -- maybe a miracle had happened.
"So cheer up my love, before you know it I'll be as good as new. That transfusion really did the trick." He ruffled my hair -- his eyes full of light again.
But, by afternoon, while I watched in panic, the hemorrhaging turned into a deluge. Luis complained of a dreadful headache. Narco and oxygen were administered, but eventually even they could not control the pain. Luis's last words to me before he went into a coma were, "Que dolor, mi pobre cabeza -- mi querida, mi querida. " ("What pain, my poor head -- my dear, my dear.") I held his hands and the doctor and I watched as his respiration stopped. His strong heart kept beating, and then gradually, without oxygen, his pulse disappeared and my Luis was gone from me.
The doctor left the room. I sat there with Luis's quiet hand in mine. I became aware of the fragrance of roses in the room. The nurses came in shortly to prepare Luis. I asked them not to take the lamp away that I had brought from home. It was on the bedside table next to him and its light was soft and so much nicer than that of the harsh overhead light of the hospital room. I was then led down the hall to a room. I was in such shock I thought nothing, felt nothing, saw nothing. I was then told that certain decisions must be made now. And so I did.
I then asked to be alone with my husband for the last time. I stroked his hair and thanked him for the happiness he had given me. I knew I would never love another person with the passion I had felt for him. Later, when I was taken home, Miss Julia, the nurse, said that Maria Luisa started to cry inconsolably at the exact moment of her father's death.
Early the next morning I went into the garden and cut all the beautiful blossoms off of Luis's favorite tree. They would cover his casket. Then I gathered my three sons and gently broke the news that our Luis had left us. Rikki, the eldest at ten, asked, "Will we have lots of problems, Mom?" My answer was, "Yes." He volunteered to get a job to help the family.
The months that followed brought an agony I cannot describe. Slowly, through my overwhelming sorrow came the realization of our predicament. It arose like a slow sunrise, its rays lighting up the valleys of my dilemma. It would have been easier to lie down and die of a broken heart the way dogs often do after losing a master. Until then grief had been a foreign sensation for me; now I was overwhelmed by its unrelenting persistence. It enveloped me during sleepless nights, it made my throat refuse food -- and yet, I had to pull myself together -- I was in a faraway land with four dependent children and almost no money.
Our protector, benefactor, and interpreter was gone, and the wolves were forming a ring outside our door. Amongst them were some of Luis's immediate family who had never met or accepted me. As we were never legally married in Argentina, now I was not recognized as the legal wife, and all payments from the office ceased. Four months before, we'd bought our wonderful old house out of a German estate. I paid the first payment of $35,000 cash, the money I'd brought to support the boys; Luis was to pay me back when his money from Uruguay arrived, but this never happened.
It wasn't only a financial dilemma. I had brought my children to Argentina without the permission of their father. Now, from bitterness he wrote, "You made your own bed, so lie in it." He refused us any help and let me know he would take me to court on my return to the United States. So bridges had been burned behind us.
But maybe in the long run it was a blessing to have all these problems. It made me stay busy. I had to discipline my thoughts -- if I cried all night, I was useless the next day. It was as though I couldn't even afford the luxury of my own terrible grief. Too much depended on my staying strong.
As much as Mother feared flying, she came from California. She will never know what this meant to me -- meeting her at the airport brought the first ray of sunshine into my heart since Luis's death. After appraising our situation, she got us moving. We had a sale such as diplomats often do when leaving an assignment. We sold the house and many of our valuable belongings. The boys set up a table and sold their blue jeans and boxes of bubble gum.
Mother left after two months, but it took more than a year to unscramble our affairs. Between legal matters and the revolution, which ousted Peron, it was a tumultuous time. The only time I felt any serenity was when I sat by Luis's grave. I accepted the fact that there was a reason why he had to die; I never questioned God's will, but thanked that force for allowing me the three years of happiness we'd had.
I couldn't bear the word eternity and had engraved on Luis's headstone, Sleep Peacefully Beloved Until We Meet Again. If there were justice in the universe, and there had to be, I figured it involved continuity of lifetimes. (I wasn't familiar with the term reincarnation then.) I continued to dwell on Mr. Hicks and his remarkable conviction and longed to believe myself.
I had so many questions to be answered. I envied him his unquestioning faith. Shortly after Luis's death he sent me a note saying, "Do not worry about your husband's soul. His talk with me had the quality of a full confession. He died with God's grace."
I believed him, and it was then that my thirst began, a thirst for answers, a thirst for a trust to be used as a faith, a support, should such a terrible grief engulf me again. And I knew that when I found a belief that worked for me, like Mr. Hicks, I would tell the world about it.
The warm Indian sun was shining in my room. It took a minute to realize where I was ... in the hotel in Dharamsala. I had fallen asleep in a sitting position. Had it all been a dream? Sometimes on awakening I prayed my worlds were reversed, that Luis's death had been just a nightmare. But this was reality. However, I knew one question had been answered. My search was not ended. It was just beginning. It was time to take some real steps into a new dimension, the world of going within, the world of spirit, of justice and self-knowledge. I hastily dressed. I had many questions to ask Kazi. This was an opportunity not to be lost.
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Re: Freda Bedi Cont'd (#2)
by admin » Fri Jun 12, 2020 3:36 am
Part 1 of 3
Chapter 9: A Yeti-Hunting 007, from "True Stories of Real-Life Monsters" [Excerpt]
by Nick Redfern
© 2015 by The Rosen Publishing Group, Inc.
NOTICE: THIS WORK MAY BE PROTECTED BY COPYRIGHT
Did the Central Intelligence Agency secretly encourage a famous pursuer of monsters to do its dark and dirty work for them in the 1950s? Is it possible that more than a few of this man's expeditions in search of the legendary Abominable Snowman of the Himalayas were nothing but ingenious cover stories to allow for clandestine espionage operations on nations that were potentially hostile to the United States? And what of this same character's untimely death in a plane crash that still provokes controversy to this very day, decades after it occurred? These and many other highly charged issues dominated the life and work of a fascinating and mysterious man named Tom Slick, a devotee of cryptozoology, an Indiana Jones-like adventurer, a figure with numerous links to the secret world of officialdom, and -- just perhaps -- the James Bond of the monster-hunting world.
A Seeker of Strange Creatures
Born in San Antonio. Texas, in 1916, when the First World War was still raging,Thomas Baker Slick, Jr., was the son of one Thomas Baker Slick, Sr., who made a mountain of money in the oil business of the 1920s, and who became known as both the King of the Wildcatters and Lucky Tom. Fate demonstrated that Tom Slick's father wasn't so lucky in the end, however: He died in 1930 at the tragically young age of only 46. Slick may have lost a parent, but in doing so, he inherited a fortune of literally millions.
Just like his father, Tom Junior proved to be a mover and a shaker. During the Second World War, after having studied at Yale, Harvard, and MIT, Slick worked with the Washington, DC-based War Production Board as well as the Board of Economic Warfare, and served with the U.S. Navy in the Pacific theater. He was the brains behind three organizations that became known as the Texas Biomedical Research Institute, the Southwest Research Institute (the focus of which was on advancing technologies), and the Mind Science Foundation, which explored the mysterious potentials of the human brain. Slick was also a big fan of modern art, and an author with world peace firmly on his forever busy mind: In 1958 he published a book on this very matter, titled Permanent Peace: A Check and Balance Plan. And then there are those monsters that so fascinated him.
Rather interestingly, it seems that Tom Slick's passion for excursions of the wildlife variety was prompted by a 1928 expedition to China that the sons of President Theodore Roosevelt -- Kermit and Theodore IV -- embarked on, during which they hunted down and killed a giant Panda. As we saw in the first chapter of this hook, Roosevelt Sr. himself was no stranger to cryptozoology, and he may very well have been the recipient of an early report of a predatory Bigfoot on the loose in the Pacific Northwest. This is interesting because, although Slick's interest in cryptozoology was wide-ranging, it was the legendary Abominable Snowman, or Yeti -- so similar to the American Bigfoot -- that attracted most of his attention. But before we get to the matter of Tom Slick's Yeti quest, let's first take a look at what the legendary beasts might actually be.
Cases, Sightings, and Theories
Depending on who you care to ask, the Yeti is thought to be a giant ape of unclassified origins and nature, a surviving example of something long thought to be extinct, or an admixture of hoax, folklore, misidentification, and myth. In Tibetan, and particularly Nepalese, culture, tales of a giant, Bigfoot-like creature existing centuries ago are still passed from generation to generation. The Rongkup people, for example, recount ancient tales of a mighty creature of the glaciers, a large and lumbering ape-like animal that used stones as weapons, and whose blood was occasionally used in religious ceremonies. In 1832 the story surfaced of a mountaineer and naturalist named Brian Houghton Hodgson, who exhibited a deep interest in Buddhist teachings and beliefs. That same story told of how a number of Hodgson's team encountered on the Himalayas a large, hairy animal that walked on two legs and that was clearly thought to be neither bear nor man. Hodgson, utterly baffled but admittedly fascinated, could only theorize that the creature was possibly an orangutan, or at least something along those lines. Similar reports would continue to surface, but it was not until 1921 that the appellation "Abominable Snowman" came into being.
In that year, Lieutenant-Colonel Charles Howard-Bury -- a British politician and a soldier with the King's Royal Rifle Corps -- led a team to the Himalayas called the Everest Reconnaissance Expedition. Its primary goal was to determine whether the northern side of the massive mountain might admit access to the peak. While mapping out the treacherous mountain at an altitude in excess of 20,000 ft. (6.1 km), Howard-Bury and his team came across a set of surprisingly large footprints that appeared to resemble those of a barefooted man -- certainly not something the group had anticipated encountering at those heights! A number of the local guides who had been hired to take part in the trek were later interviewed about their experiences by a journalist named Henry Newman (who wrote for the Calcutta-based Statesman). It was Newman who coined the term "Abominable Snowman," after hearing of their knowledge of the legendary monster. It was almost certainly a mistranslation, however. The guides described the beast as being metoh, meaning "filthy," which Newman then misinterpreted to mean "abominable." And it was out of that error (or, as some suggest, that imaginative artistic license) that the creature's most famous name was introduced to a soon-to-be captivated world.
Interest in the mythological beast seemed to reach fever pitch in the 1950s, when a number of acclaimed mountain climbers, including Eric Shipton, Sir Edmund Hilary, and a team sponsored by Britain's Daily Mail newspaper, photographed what appeared to be gargantuan footprints in the frozen heights and collected sightings of the wild man-thing said to be in their midst. While public interest in and fascination with the Abominable Snowman is certainly nowhere near what it was decades ago, the hunt still goes steadily on.
One interesting candidate for what the animal/beast might really be is the Gigantopithecus blacki, a massive ape with an estimated height of around 10 ft. (3 m) and a weight in excess of 1,000 pounds. That these creatures lived and roamed across significantly sized portions of what are today Vietnam, China, and India makes the possibility that they are responsible for Yeti reports all the more intriguing. Expect for one problem, an impediment that is just about as big as the legendary Snowman itself. According to mainstream science, Gigantopithecus blacki is thought to have become extinct more than 100,000 years ago. On the other hand, nature is undeniably tenacious and very good at clinging on against all odds, perhaps even against accepted scientific wisdom. Thus, if Gigantopithecus blacki is not so extinct, after all, we may well have the perfect explanation for the Yeti in the form of an empirically verified huge ape that dwelled in the very same area where, thousands of years after its presumed extinction, people are still seeing huge, anomalous apelike creatures.
With all of this as context, let us now return to the mystery-filled life and work of Tom Slick, the Yeti-hunter par excellence.
On the Trail of the Unknown
Tom Slick was a man with a deep passion for travel, adventure, and exotic lands -- all perfect and prime ingredients for becoming a cohort of the CIA in the 1950s. In 1956, for example, Slick was in Guyana on a diamond hunt when disaster struck, and his aircraft was forced to make an emergency landing. He ended up spending time with a local tribe for two weeks before finally being rescued. His only means of survival in the harsh, primitive environment was a diet of parrot meat. Then there was Slick's excitement-filled 1950s trip to New Zealand, the site of an ambitious hunt for wild boar. These are just a two examples of the man's many and varied escapades of the alternative and entertaining kind. But it was in relation to the Yeti that Slick really made, and left, his mark.
In 1956, Slick decided that Nepal was going to be next on his list of must-see places, and the Yeti was going to be his next creature of interest. And how was he going to find the mighty, lumbering man-ape of the huge and ancient mountains? With a helicopter and bloodhounds -- what else? This was hardly well-received by local authorities, however, who immediately put a stop to Slick's plans. However, on March 17 of the following year, according to cryptozoologist Loren Coleman, an undeterred Tom Slick kicked things off in style in the Arun Valley, located in eastern Nepal.
During the next 48 hours, the Nepalese government made a public statement -- intended for the media to disseminate widely -- loudly warning all visiting adventurers and explorers that any attempts to snare, harm, or kill a Yeti would result in the wrath of officialdom coming down very hard on the culprit or culprits. Slick got the message, but that didn't deter him from roaming the mountains with a loaded gun. Nor did it prevent him and his team from taking along for the ride a number of steel traps in which to imprison a Yeti, in the event they were lucky enough to find and capture one. Although, one imagines it would not have been an easy task to try and entice a giant hairy ape into a cage it had no intention of entering!
Several expeditions were undertaken and funded by Slick in the late 1950s. His own, personal excursions, however, came to a sudden and life-changing halt when, on one such trip, the brakes failed on the vehicle that he and his team were driving through the treacherous mountains. One and all quickly leaped to safety, but for Slick the jump was a bad one: His knees were severely damaged; from then on he was forced to play the role of funder rather than participant. Nevertheless, Slick's time in Nepal had convinced him that the Yeti was a very real creature. When Slick began to expand his research to include the North American Bigfoot, his attitude toward the world's mysterious man-beasts began to change dramatically. The days of wanting to hunt down and kill such a creature were replaced by a desire to obtain definitive and irrefutable evidence in the form of photographs and then let the beasts live in peace and privacy. Sadly, as we will see later, Slick did not live to see his dreams and plans come to fruition.
Tibet in Turmoil
One of the most fascinating claims made about Tom Slick is that while he was legitimately searching for the Yeti in Tibet, he was also there at the request, or maybe even the order, of the CIA to keep a close and careful watch on the fraught relationship that existed between its population and the government of the People's Republic of China. History would seem to bear this out. Skirmishes between Tibetan rebels and Chinese armed forces in both the Amdo and Kham regions of Tibet dated back to 1956, only months before Slick popped up to allegedly do his bit of monster hunting, which may not have been entirely coincidental. Some have suggested that perhaps Slick had a secondary but arguably far more important role in Tibet -- namely, to secretly check out the area, forge links to see who was saying what to whom, secure plenty of photographs of the land, and become an influential player and a ferreter and collector of intelligence data at a local level on the growing problems that Tibet was having with China.
It was in the early spring of 1959 that the conflict in the region reached boiling point. On March 10, violent chaos broke out in Lhasa, the capital city, which was under the iron grip of the Chinese Community Party, and had been since 1951. Seen as being a potential threat to the life of the fourteenth Dalai Lama, the fighting quickly prompted secret plans to get him out of the area as fast as possible. And who was at the forefront of this clandestine operation? None other than the CIA's Special Activities Division, which successfully achieved its assignment of getting the Dalai Lama into India, where he created what became known as the Government of Tibet in Exile in Dharamshala. This clearly had the full support of the people of Tibet, as evidenced by the fact that more than 80,000 fellow countrymen eventually followed him.
As for the CIA's Special Activities Division, as the name suggests, this is the one branch of the agency that, perhaps more than any other, takes key and decisive roles in potentially touchy operations relative to intelligence matters. Paramilitary operations are a regular part of its work, as are programs using psychological warfare against the enemy. As we have seen already, psy-war projects were used by U.S. Intelligence in two earlier cryptozoological controversies in the 1950s -- the Flatwoods Monster of West Virginia and the Aswang Vampire of the Philippines. A case of first, second, and now, with the Yeti, third time lucky? Quite possibly. Of course, if Tom Slick was involved in capers of the spying kind while roaming around Tibet, wouldn't we have some evidence of this -- something in his background, the people he mixed with, the places he went? Well, guess what? We do.
The Name's Slick, Tom Slick
There's very little doubt that Tom Slick did some work for the CIA. He certainly would have been the right person to have on board for such an ingenious project -- namely, to do a bit of localized spying under a carefully scripted ruse of looking for a bunch of Yetis. Not only did Slick have a genuine fascination for cryptozoology in general and the Abominable Snowman in particular, but he moved in a lot of powerful circles with numerous Significant people -- many of whom were linked to the secret worlds of spying, the CIA, official chicanery, and Intelligence gathering. One of those, and a good friend to Slick, was Sir Ellice Sassoon, 3rd Baronet, GBE, a resident of Shanghai who spent a great deal of time protecting and advancing Western interests in the Far East and the Orient.
Slick's name also appears in the address book of a certain Russian character named George de Mohrenschildt, a petroleum geologist who, upon immigrating to the United States in 1938, was put on J. Edgar Hoover's FBI watch list, following a tipoff from contacts in British Intelligence intimating that he, de Mohrenschildt, was spying for the Germans. On top of that, de Mohrenschildt was in Fort Worth, Texas, in the summer of 1962 and just happened to become pals with none other than one of the most infamous and controversial characters in American history, Lee Harvey Oswald.
De Mohrenschildt believed that Oswald had been a pawn in the shooting of President Kennedy and testified to as much before the Warren Commission. This statement was widely publicized by the New Orleans DA Jim Garrison, who later became a famed investigator of the death of JFK. Notably, James Douglass, the author of JFK and the Unspeakable -- a book that concludes Kennedy was murdered by elements of the Mafia, CIA, and FBI, acting on orders from on high as a direct result of Kennedy's plans to end the Cold War -- said of de Mohrenschildt that he had been Oswald's CIA-approved shepherd in Dallas [who] probably [had] no understanding in advance of the scapegoat role that lay ahead for [Oswald]" (Douglass, 2010).
In addition, de Mohrenschildt was also very chummy with the Bush family. Yes, that Bush family. To the extent that while at the Andover, Massachusetts-based Phillips Academy, de Mohrenschildt's nephew, a man named Edward G. Hooker, roomed with none other than President George Herbert Walker Bush.
Chapter 9: A Yeti-Hunting 007, from "True Stories of Real-Life Monsters" [Excerpt]
by Nick Redfern
© 2015 by The Rosen Publishing Group, Inc.
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Did the Central Intelligence Agency secretly encourage a famous pursuer of monsters to do its dark and dirty work for them in the 1950s? Is it possible that more than a few of this man's expeditions in search of the legendary Abominable Snowman of the Himalayas were nothing but ingenious cover stories to allow for clandestine espionage operations on nations that were potentially hostile to the United States? And what of this same character's untimely death in a plane crash that still provokes controversy to this very day, decades after it occurred? These and many other highly charged issues dominated the life and work of a fascinating and mysterious man named Tom Slick, a devotee of cryptozoology, an Indiana Jones-like adventurer, a figure with numerous links to the secret world of officialdom, and -- just perhaps -- the James Bond of the monster-hunting world.
A Seeker of Strange Creatures
Born in San Antonio. Texas, in 1916, when the First World War was still raging,Thomas Baker Slick, Jr., was the son of one Thomas Baker Slick, Sr., who made a mountain of money in the oil business of the 1920s, and who became known as both the King of the Wildcatters and Lucky Tom. Fate demonstrated that Tom Slick's father wasn't so lucky in the end, however: He died in 1930 at the tragically young age of only 46. Slick may have lost a parent, but in doing so, he inherited a fortune of literally millions.
Just like his father, Tom Junior proved to be a mover and a shaker. During the Second World War, after having studied at Yale, Harvard, and MIT, Slick worked with the Washington, DC-based War Production Board as well as the Board of Economic Warfare, and served with the U.S. Navy in the Pacific theater. He was the brains behind three organizations that became known as the Texas Biomedical Research Institute, the Southwest Research Institute (the focus of which was on advancing technologies), and the Mind Science Foundation, which explored the mysterious potentials of the human brain. Slick was also a big fan of modern art, and an author with world peace firmly on his forever busy mind: In 1958 he published a book on this very matter, titled Permanent Peace: A Check and Balance Plan. And then there are those monsters that so fascinated him.
Rather interestingly, it seems that Tom Slick's passion for excursions of the wildlife variety was prompted by a 1928 expedition to China that the sons of President Theodore Roosevelt -- Kermit and Theodore IV -- embarked on, during which they hunted down and killed a giant Panda. As we saw in the first chapter of this hook, Roosevelt Sr. himself was no stranger to cryptozoology, and he may very well have been the recipient of an early report of a predatory Bigfoot on the loose in the Pacific Northwest. This is interesting because, although Slick's interest in cryptozoology was wide-ranging, it was the legendary Abominable Snowman, or Yeti -- so similar to the American Bigfoot -- that attracted most of his attention. But before we get to the matter of Tom Slick's Yeti quest, let's first take a look at what the legendary beasts might actually be.
Cases, Sightings, and Theories
Depending on who you care to ask, the Yeti is thought to be a giant ape of unclassified origins and nature, a surviving example of something long thought to be extinct, or an admixture of hoax, folklore, misidentification, and myth. In Tibetan, and particularly Nepalese, culture, tales of a giant, Bigfoot-like creature existing centuries ago are still passed from generation to generation. The Rongkup people, for example, recount ancient tales of a mighty creature of the glaciers, a large and lumbering ape-like animal that used stones as weapons, and whose blood was occasionally used in religious ceremonies. In 1832 the story surfaced of a mountaineer and naturalist named Brian Houghton Hodgson, who exhibited a deep interest in Buddhist teachings and beliefs. That same story told of how a number of Hodgson's team encountered on the Himalayas a large, hairy animal that walked on two legs and that was clearly thought to be neither bear nor man. Hodgson, utterly baffled but admittedly fascinated, could only theorize that the creature was possibly an orangutan, or at least something along those lines. Similar reports would continue to surface, but it was not until 1921 that the appellation "Abominable Snowman" came into being.
In that year, Lieutenant-Colonel Charles Howard-Bury -- a British politician and a soldier with the King's Royal Rifle Corps -- led a team to the Himalayas called the Everest Reconnaissance Expedition. Its primary goal was to determine whether the northern side of the massive mountain might admit access to the peak. While mapping out the treacherous mountain at an altitude in excess of 20,000 ft. (6.1 km), Howard-Bury and his team came across a set of surprisingly large footprints that appeared to resemble those of a barefooted man -- certainly not something the group had anticipated encountering at those heights! A number of the local guides who had been hired to take part in the trek were later interviewed about their experiences by a journalist named Henry Newman (who wrote for the Calcutta-based Statesman). It was Newman who coined the term "Abominable Snowman," after hearing of their knowledge of the legendary monster. It was almost certainly a mistranslation, however. The guides described the beast as being metoh, meaning "filthy," which Newman then misinterpreted to mean "abominable." And it was out of that error (or, as some suggest, that imaginative artistic license) that the creature's most famous name was introduced to a soon-to-be captivated world.
Interest in the mythological beast seemed to reach fever pitch in the 1950s, when a number of acclaimed mountain climbers, including Eric Shipton, Sir Edmund Hilary, and a team sponsored by Britain's Daily Mail newspaper, photographed what appeared to be gargantuan footprints in the frozen heights and collected sightings of the wild man-thing said to be in their midst. While public interest in and fascination with the Abominable Snowman is certainly nowhere near what it was decades ago, the hunt still goes steadily on.
One interesting candidate for what the animal/beast might really be is the Gigantopithecus blacki, a massive ape with an estimated height of around 10 ft. (3 m) and a weight in excess of 1,000 pounds. That these creatures lived and roamed across significantly sized portions of what are today Vietnam, China, and India makes the possibility that they are responsible for Yeti reports all the more intriguing. Expect for one problem, an impediment that is just about as big as the legendary Snowman itself. According to mainstream science, Gigantopithecus blacki is thought to have become extinct more than 100,000 years ago. On the other hand, nature is undeniably tenacious and very good at clinging on against all odds, perhaps even against accepted scientific wisdom. Thus, if Gigantopithecus blacki is not so extinct, after all, we may well have the perfect explanation for the Yeti in the form of an empirically verified huge ape that dwelled in the very same area where, thousands of years after its presumed extinction, people are still seeing huge, anomalous apelike creatures.
Gigantopithecus is an extinct genus of ape from the Early to Middle Pleistocene of southern China, represented by one species, G. blacki. The remains of Gigantopithecus, two third molar teeth, were first identified in a drugstore by anthropologist Ralph von Koenigswald in 1935, who subsequently described the ape. In 1956, the first mandible and over 1,000 teeth were found in Liucheng, and numerous more remains have since been found in at least 16 sites. Only teeth and 4 mandibles are known currently, and other skeletal elements were likely consumed by porcupines before they could fossilise. Gigantopithecus was once argued to be a hominin, a member of the human line, but it is now thought to be closely allied with orangutans, classified in the subfamily Ponginae.
Gigantopithecus has traditionally been restored as a massive, gorilla-like ape, potentially 200–300 kg (440–660 lb) when alive, but the paucity of remains make total size estimates highly speculative. The species may have been sexually dimorphic, with males much bigger than females. The incisors are reduced and the canines appear to have functioned like cheek teeth (premolars and molars). The premolars are high-crowned, and the fourth premolar is very molar-like. The molars are the largest of any known ape, and have a relatively flat surface. Gigantopithecus had the thickest enamel by absolute measure of any ape, up to 6 mm (a quarter of an inch) in some areas, though was only fairly thick when tooth size is taken into account.
Gigantopithecus appears to have been a generalist herbivore of C3 forest plants, with the jaw adapted to grinding, crushing, and cutting through tough, fibrous plants; the thick enamel functioning to resist foods with abrasive particles such as stems, roots, and tubers with dirt; and teeth bearing traces of fig family fruit. It primarily lived in subtropical to tropical forest, and went extinct about 300,000 years ago likely due to climate change and the retreat of preferred habitat, and potentially archaic human activity.
-- Gigantopithecus, by Wikipedia
With all of this as context, let us now return to the mystery-filled life and work of Tom Slick, the Yeti-hunter par excellence.
On the Trail of the Unknown
Tom Slick was a man with a deep passion for travel, adventure, and exotic lands -- all perfect and prime ingredients for becoming a cohort of the CIA in the 1950s. In 1956, for example, Slick was in Guyana on a diamond hunt when disaster struck, and his aircraft was forced to make an emergency landing. He ended up spending time with a local tribe for two weeks before finally being rescued. His only means of survival in the harsh, primitive environment was a diet of parrot meat. Then there was Slick's excitement-filled 1950s trip to New Zealand, the site of an ambitious hunt for wild boar. These are just a two examples of the man's many and varied escapades of the alternative and entertaining kind. But it was in relation to the Yeti that Slick really made, and left, his mark.
In 1956, Slick decided that Nepal was going to be next on his list of must-see places, and the Yeti was going to be his next creature of interest. And how was he going to find the mighty, lumbering man-ape of the huge and ancient mountains? With a helicopter and bloodhounds -- what else? This was hardly well-received by local authorities, however, who immediately put a stop to Slick's plans. However, on March 17 of the following year, according to cryptozoologist Loren Coleman, an undeterred Tom Slick kicked things off in style in the Arun Valley, located in eastern Nepal.
During the next 48 hours, the Nepalese government made a public statement -- intended for the media to disseminate widely -- loudly warning all visiting adventurers and explorers that any attempts to snare, harm, or kill a Yeti would result in the wrath of officialdom coming down very hard on the culprit or culprits. Slick got the message, but that didn't deter him from roaming the mountains with a loaded gun. Nor did it prevent him and his team from taking along for the ride a number of steel traps in which to imprison a Yeti, in the event they were lucky enough to find and capture one. Although, one imagines it would not have been an easy task to try and entice a giant hairy ape into a cage it had no intention of entering!
Several expeditions were undertaken and funded by Slick in the late 1950s. His own, personal excursions, however, came to a sudden and life-changing halt when, on one such trip, the brakes failed on the vehicle that he and his team were driving through the treacherous mountains. One and all quickly leaped to safety, but for Slick the jump was a bad one: His knees were severely damaged; from then on he was forced to play the role of funder rather than participant. Nevertheless, Slick's time in Nepal had convinced him that the Yeti was a very real creature. When Slick began to expand his research to include the North American Bigfoot, his attitude toward the world's mysterious man-beasts began to change dramatically. The days of wanting to hunt down and kill such a creature were replaced by a desire to obtain definitive and irrefutable evidence in the form of photographs and then let the beasts live in peace and privacy. Sadly, as we will see later, Slick did not live to see his dreams and plans come to fruition.
Tibet in Turmoil
One of the most fascinating claims made about Tom Slick is that while he was legitimately searching for the Yeti in Tibet, he was also there at the request, or maybe even the order, of the CIA to keep a close and careful watch on the fraught relationship that existed between its population and the government of the People's Republic of China. History would seem to bear this out. Skirmishes between Tibetan rebels and Chinese armed forces in both the Amdo and Kham regions of Tibet dated back to 1956, only months before Slick popped up to allegedly do his bit of monster hunting, which may not have been entirely coincidental. Some have suggested that perhaps Slick had a secondary but arguably far more important role in Tibet -- namely, to secretly check out the area, forge links to see who was saying what to whom, secure plenty of photographs of the land, and become an influential player and a ferreter and collector of intelligence data at a local level on the growing problems that Tibet was having with China.
It was in the early spring of 1959 that the conflict in the region reached boiling point. On March 10, violent chaos broke out in Lhasa, the capital city, which was under the iron grip of the Chinese Community Party, and had been since 1951. Seen as being a potential threat to the life of the fourteenth Dalai Lama, the fighting quickly prompted secret plans to get him out of the area as fast as possible. And who was at the forefront of this clandestine operation? None other than the CIA's Special Activities Division, which successfully achieved its assignment of getting the Dalai Lama into India, where he created what became known as the Government of Tibet in Exile in Dharamshala. This clearly had the full support of the people of Tibet, as evidenced by the fact that more than 80,000 fellow countrymen eventually followed him.
As for the CIA's Special Activities Division, as the name suggests, this is the one branch of the agency that, perhaps more than any other, takes key and decisive roles in potentially touchy operations relative to intelligence matters. Paramilitary operations are a regular part of its work, as are programs using psychological warfare against the enemy. As we have seen already, psy-war projects were used by U.S. Intelligence in two earlier cryptozoological controversies in the 1950s -- the Flatwoods Monster of West Virginia and the Aswang Vampire of the Philippines. A case of first, second, and now, with the Yeti, third time lucky? Quite possibly. Of course, if Tom Slick was involved in capers of the spying kind while roaming around Tibet, wouldn't we have some evidence of this -- something in his background, the people he mixed with, the places he went? Well, guess what? We do.
The Name's Slick, Tom Slick
There's very little doubt that Tom Slick did some work for the CIA. He certainly would have been the right person to have on board for such an ingenious project -- namely, to do a bit of localized spying under a carefully scripted ruse of looking for a bunch of Yetis. Not only did Slick have a genuine fascination for cryptozoology in general and the Abominable Snowman in particular, but he moved in a lot of powerful circles with numerous Significant people -- many of whom were linked to the secret worlds of spying, the CIA, official chicanery, and Intelligence gathering. One of those, and a good friend to Slick, was Sir Ellice Sassoon, 3rd Baronet, GBE, a resident of Shanghai who spent a great deal of time protecting and advancing Western interests in the Far East and the Orient.
Sir Ellice Victor Sassoon, 3rd Baronet, GBE (20 December 1881 – 13 August 1961) was a businessman and hotelier from the wealthy Baghdadi Jewish Sassoon merchant and banking family.Baghdadi Jews, also known as Indo-Iraqi Jews, is the traditional name given to the former communities of Jewish migrants and their descendants from Baghdad and elsewhere in the Middle East, who settled primarily in the ports and along the trade routes around the Indian Ocean and the South China Sea.
Beginning under the Mughal Empire in the 18th century, merchant traders from Baghdad and Aleppo established originally Judeo-Arabic speaking Jewish communities in India, then in a trading network across Asia, following Mizrahi Jewish customs. These flourished under the British Empire in the 19th century, growing to be English-speaking and British oriented.
These grew into a tight trading and kinship network across Asia with smaller Baghdadi communities being established beyond India in the mid-nineteenth century in Burma, Singapore, Hong Kong and Shanghai. Baghdadi trading outposts were established across colonial Asia with families settling in Malaysia, Japan, Indonesia and Australia. Until the Second World War, these communities attracted a modest flow of Jewish emigrants from Iraq, with smaller numbers hailing from Syria, Egypt, Yemen, Iran, and Turkey.
The Second World War, brought strife to India, the Japanese occupation of Burma, Hong Kong and Shanghai, then swiftly the end of the British Empire in Asia. Dislocated by war, the violence of the Indian Partition, rising nationalism and the uncertainty of independence in both India and Burma, an exodus began to the newly founded state of Israel, Britain and Australia. Their old trade routes severed by first Communist victory in China, the ocean trade stifled in India and Burma by postcolonial nationalizations and trade restrictions, the Baghdadi Jewish had emigrated almost in their entirety by the 1970s. Families of Baghdadi Jewish descent continue to play a major role in Jewish life, especially in Great Britain where families such as the Sassoons and Reubens have enjoyed great prominence in business and politics.
-- Baghdadi Jews, by WikipediaThe Sassoon family, known as "Rothschilds of the East" due to the immense wealth they accumulated in finance and trade, is of Baghdadi Jewish descent and international renown. It was based in Baghdad, Iraq, before moving to Bombay, India, and then spreading to China, England, and other countries. It is said that the family descended from one of the court families of the Iberian Peninsula in the twelfth century. They later served as Financial Advisors to Islamic Rulers.
From the 18th century, the Sassoons were one of the wealthiest families in the world, with a corporate empire spanning the entire continent of Asia.
-- Sassoon family, by Wikipedia
Sir Ellice Victor Elias Sassoon was born 30 December 1881 in Naples, Italy while his family was en route to India. He was raised in England where he attended Harrow and Trinity College (Cambridge University). He was from a Baghdadi Jewish family who had made their fortune in the opium business. The family also had large holdings in the Indian cotton industry. Sir Victor served in the Royal Flying Corps in the First World War. He survived a plane crash in 1916 and sustained leg injuries that plagued him for the rest of his life. When his father died in 1924, Victor inherited his title and became 3rd Baronet of Bombay. He moved to India, where he managed his family's textile mills and served in the Indian Legislative Assembly.
In the 1920s and 1930s, he transferred much of his wealth from India to Shanghai, China and contributed to a real estate boom there by investing millions of US dollars in the local economy. Sir Victor frequently traveled worldwide for business and pleasure and divided his time between Poona, India and Shanghai. He acquired the Cathay Land Company, the Cathay Hotel Company and at least 50 other companies. Sassoon built the Cathay Hotel (now the Peace Hotel) in 1929, and other large hotels, office buildings and residences, many in The Bund, a waterfront area in central Shanghai (including Hamilton House, Metropole Hotel and Embankment). At one time, he owned over 1,800 properties there. Sassoon endeavored to protect Western interests in the Orient and helped European Jews survive in the Shanghai Ghetto.
Sir Victor Sassoon loved photography and opened a studio in Shimla first called Hamilton Studios. In 1928 he established his hobby and opened a studio in Bombay State at Ballard Estate by the same name as Hamilton Studios at E.D.Sassoon Building (one of his property), Ballard Estate, and all the negatives from Shimla were brought here, to Bombay, closing down that studio completely. He was also fond of horse racing, Chinese ivories, international friendships and travel. He counted members of the aristocracy and such Hollywood stars as Charlie Chaplin, Marlene Dietrich, Basil Rathbone and Bette Davis among his acquaintances. An accomplished photographer, he made many images of friends, and of local and foreign landscapes and created numerous photograph albums. He also illustrated his diaries with his own photographs.
He lived in Shanghai until 1941, when due to China's war with Japan, he was forced to leave. After the Chinese Communist Revolution of 1949, he sold his business interests in China and relocated to Nassau, Bahamas.
-- Victor Sassoon, by Wikipedia
Slick's name also appears in the address book of a certain Russian character named George de Mohrenschildt, a petroleum geologist who, upon immigrating to the United States in 1938, was put on J. Edgar Hoover's FBI watch list, following a tipoff from contacts in British Intelligence intimating that he, de Mohrenschildt, was spying for the Germans. On top of that, de Mohrenschildt was in Fort Worth, Texas, in the summer of 1962 and just happened to become pals with none other than one of the most infamous and controversial characters in American history, Lee Harvey Oswald.
De Mohrenschildt believed that Oswald had been a pawn in the shooting of President Kennedy and testified to as much before the Warren Commission. This statement was widely publicized by the New Orleans DA Jim Garrison, who later became a famed investigator of the death of JFK. Notably, James Douglass, the author of JFK and the Unspeakable -- a book that concludes Kennedy was murdered by elements of the Mafia, CIA, and FBI, acting on orders from on high as a direct result of Kennedy's plans to end the Cold War -- said of de Mohrenschildt that he had been Oswald's CIA-approved shepherd in Dallas [who] probably [had] no understanding in advance of the scapegoat role that lay ahead for [Oswald]" (Douglass, 2010).
In addition, de Mohrenschildt was also very chummy with the Bush family. Yes, that Bush family. To the extent that while at the Andover, Massachusetts-based Phillips Academy, de Mohrenschildt's nephew, a man named Edward G. Hooker, roomed with none other than President George Herbert Walker Bush.
George Sergius de Mohrenschildt (Russian: Георгий Сергеевич де Мореншильд; April 17, 1911 – March 29, 1977) was a petroleum geologist and professor who befriended Lee Harvey Oswald in the summer of 1962 and maintained that friendship until Oswald's death, two days after the assassination of US President John F. Kennedy. His testimony before the Warren Commission investigating the assassination was one of the longest of any witness.
Mohrenschildt began life as Jerzy Sergius von Mohrenschildt in Mozyr, in the Russian Empire, now in Belarus, born on April 4 in the old-style Russian Julian calendar. He had an older brother, Dimitri. His wealthy father, Sergey Alexandrovich von Mohrenschildt, was of German, Swedish, and Russian descent. Mohrenschildt's mother, Alexandra, was of Polish, Russian, and Hungarian descent. Sergey von Mohrenschildt was claimed by his son to have been a Marshal of Nobility of the Minsk Governorate from 1913-1917, and a civil rank of Actual Civil Councilor corresponding to Major General. In 1920, some years after the Russian Revolution, Sergey von Mohrenschildt was arrested by the Bolsheviks for anti-communist activities. He was sentenced to exile for life in Veliky Ustyug, a town in the north of Russia. Mohrenschildt later testified to the Warren Commission that while awaiting transport to Veliky Ustyug, his father had become ill. Two Jewish doctors who treated him in jail advised him to stop eating so he would appear more sickly. The doctors then told the Soviet government that Sergey was too ill to survive the trip to Veliky Ustyug and he should be allowed to stay at home to recover, under the condition that he check in weekly until he was well enough to be sent to Veliky Ustyug. The Soviet government agreed. After his release, Sergey, his wife and the young Mohrenschildt then fled to Poland in a hay wagon (Mohrenschildt's older brother Dimitri was awaiting execution, but was later released in a prisoner exchange in Poland). During their journey, Mohrenschildt, his father and mother Alexandra contracted typhoid fever. Alexandra died of the disease shortly after the family entered Poland.
After the death of his mother, Mohrenschildt and his father made their way to Wilno, where the family had a six-acre property. Mohrenschildt graduated from the Wilno gymnasium in 1929 and later graduated from the Polish Cavalry Academy in 1931. He went on to earn a master's degree at the Institute of Higher Commercial Studies. Having completed a dissertation on the economic influence of the U.S. on Latin America, he received a doctor of science degree in international commerce from the University of Liège in Belgium in 1938.
George von Mohrenschildt migrated to the United States in May 1938, after which he changed the nobiliary particle in his name from the German "von" to the French "de". According to Mohrenschildt, he and Fraiss, among their other duties, gathered information about people involved in "pro-German" activities, such as those bidding for US oil leases on behalf of Germany before the US became involved in World War II. Mohrenschildt testified that the purpose of their data collection was to help the French outbid the Germans.
Mohrenschildt spent the summer of 1938 with his older brother Dimitri von Mohrenschildt on Long Island, New York. Dimitri was a staunch anti-communist, member of the OSS and one of the founders of the CIA's Radio Free Europe and Amcomlib (a.k.a. Radio Liberty) stations. His contacts included top officials of the CIA.
While in New York, Mohrenschildt became acquainted with the Bouvier family, including the young Jacqueline Bouvier, the future wife of John F. Kennedy. Jacqueline grew up calling Mohrenschildt "Uncle George" and would sit on his knee. He became a close friend of Jacqueline's aunt Edith Bouvier Beale.
Mohrenschildt dabbled in the insurance business from 1939 to 1941, but failed to pass his broker's examination. In 1941, he became associated with Film Facts in New York, a production company owned by his cousin Baron Maydell, who was said to have pro-Nazi sympathies. (Mohrenschildt denied any Nazi sympathies of his own, claiming that he had helped raise money for the Polish resistance.) Mohrenschildt made a documentary film about resistance fighters in Poland. According to a memo by former CIA director Richard Helms, Mohrenschildt "was alleged to be a Nazi espionage agent."
In 1942, Mohrenschildt married an American teenager named Dorothy Pierson. They had a daughter, Alexandra (known as Alexis) and divorced in early 1944. In 1945, Mohrenschildt received a master's degree in petroleum geology from the University of Texas.
After the end of World War II, Mohrenschildt moved to Venezuela, where he worked for Pantepec Oil, a company owned by the family of William F. Buckley. In 1947, he married Phyllis Washington, the daughter of a diplomat with the State Department. They divorced in 1949. That same year, Mohrenschildt became a U.S. citizen. In 1950, he launched an oil investment firm with his step-nephew Edward Hooker, with offices in New York City, Denver, and Abilene. In 1951, Mohrenschildt's third marriage was to the physician Wynne "Didi" Sharples. The following year, the couple settled in Dallas, Texas, where Mohrenschildt took a job with oilman Clint Murchison as a petroleum geologist. Mohrenschildt and his third wife had two children, a son and a daughter, both of whom were born with cystic fibrosis (the couple's son died of the disease in 1960, as did their daughter in 1973). Mohrenschildt and Sharples were divorced in 1957.
Mohrenschildt joined the Dallas Petroleum Club, was a member of the Dallas Council on World Affairs, and taught at a local college. One of his longtime friends, offshore oil engineer George Kitchel, told the FBI that Mohrenschildt counted among his good friends oil barons Clint Murchison, H.L. [Haroldson Lafayette] Hunt, John W. Mecom, Sr., and Sid Richardson. Mohrenschildt also joined the right-wing Texas Crusade for Freedom, whose members included Earle Cabell, Everette DeGolyer, Harold Byrd and Ted Dealey.
In 1957, Mohrenschildt went to Yugoslavia to conduct a geological field survey for the U.S. State Department-sponsored International Cooperation Administration. While in Yugoslavia, he was accused by the authorities there of making drawings of military fortifications. After returning to the United States, Mohrenschildt was debriefed by the CIA, both in Washington and in Dallas.
Following his divorce in 1957, Mohrenschildt married his fourth wife, former dancer and model Jeanne LeGon, in June 1959. LeGon (née Eugenia Fomenko) was the daughter of a director of the Chinese Far East Railway who was later killed by communists. From late 1960 and into 1961, he and his wife toured Central America and the Caribbean. His "walking trip" through Central America was made to recover from the grief of losing his only son in 1960 to cystic fibrosis. However, Mohrenschildt submitted a written report of his trip to the U.S. State Department, and a photograph shows him meeting the American ambassador to Costa Rica.
Lee Harvey Oswald and his Russian-born wife Marina Oswald were introduced to Mohrenschildt in the summer of 1962 in Fort Worth, Texas. Mohrenschildt testified to the Warren Commission in 1964 that he had met the Oswalds through a prominent member of the local Russian-American community, oil accountant George Bouhe. When asked whether it was safe to help Oswald, Bouhe said that he had checked with the FBI. Mohrenschildt also believed that he had discussed Oswald with Max Clark, whom he believed was connected with the FBI, and with J. Walton Moore, whom Mohrenschildt described as "a Government man — either FBI or Central Intelligence", and who had debriefed Mohrenschildt several times following his travels abroad, starting in 1957.(According to a CIA classified document, obtained by the House Select Committee on Assassinations, J. Walton Moore was an agent of the CIA's Domestic Contacts Division in Dallas.) Mohrenschildt asserted that, shortly after meeting Oswald, he had asked Moore and Fort Worth attorney Max E. Clark about Oswald to reassure himself that it was "safe" for the Mohrenschildts to assist Oswald. Mohrenschildt testified that one of the persons with whom he had discussed Oswald told him that Oswald "seems to be OK," and that "he is a harmless lunatic." However, he was not exactly sure who had who told him that.... After returning home from a weekend trip to Houston, Mohrenschildt became aware that someone had broken into his home and copied his personal papers and other documents. At the time, he also had a manuscript that Oswald had given him to read, and realized that the document might also have been photocopied in the search. His primary concern was that the CIA was behind the break-in. According to Mohrenschildt, Moore flatly denied that the CIA was involved in any way....
On April 14, 1963, Mohrenschildt and his wife Jeanne visited the Oswalds' apartment. As Marina was showing Jeanne around the apartment, they discovered Oswald's rifle leaning against the wall inside a closet. Jeanne told George that Oswald had a rifle, and George joked to Oswald, "Were you the one who took a pot-shot at General Walker?" (General Edwin Walker was a conservative activist about whom George de Mohrenschildt said he "knew that Oswald disliked.") When later asked by the Warren Commission about Oswald's reaction to his question, Mohrenschildt said that Oswald "smiled at that." In an interview with Edward Jay Epstein, Mohrenschildt claimed to have been in touch with the CIA about Oswald's attempted assassination of Walker. "I spoke to the CIA both before and afterwards. It was what ruined me." The Warren Commission concluded that on April 10, 1963, Oswald had attempted to kill General Walker.
In June 1963, Mohrenschildt moved to Haiti. He never saw Oswald again.
After Kennedy was assassinated on November 22, 1963, Mohrenschildt testified before the Warren Commission in April 1964. According to Colonel L. Fletcher Prouty, then chief Pentagon-to-CIA liaison officer, Mohrenschildt had several private lunches with former CIA director and Warren Commission member Allen Dulles while testifying before the commission. In November 1966, Mohrenschildt left Haiti and returned to Dallas. During 1967, New Orleans District Attorney Jim Garrison interviewed Mohrenschildt and his wife as part of Garrison's prosecution of Clay Shaw. Garrison said that both of the Mohrenschildts insisted that Oswald had been the scapegoat in the assassination. Garrison concluded from his conversation with them that George de Mohrenschildt had been one of Oswald's unwitting "baby-sitters ... assigned to protect or otherwise see to the general welfare of Oswald."...
On September 17, 1976, the CIA requested that the FBI locate Mohrenschildt, because he had "attempted to get in touch with the CIA Director." On September 5, 1976, Mohrenschildt had written a letter to the director of the CIA, George H. W. Bush, asking for his assistance. He was acquainted with the Bush family; George H.W. Bush had roomed with Mohrenschildt's nephew, Edward G. Hooker, at Phillips Academy in Andover, Massachusetts. The letter said:You will excuse this hand-written letter. Maybe you will be able to bring a solution to the hopeless situation I find myself in. My wife and I find ourselves surrounded by some vigilantes; our phone bugged; and we are being followed everywhere. Either FBI is involved in this or they do not want to accept my complaints. We are driven to insanity by the situation. I have been behaving like a damn fool ever since my daughter Nadya died from [cystic fibrosis] over three years ago. I tried to write, stupidly and unsuccessfully, about Lee H Oswald and must have angered a lot of people — I do not know. But to punish an elderly man like myself and my highly nervous and sick wife is really too much. Could you do something to remove the net around us? This will be my last request for help and I will not annoy you any more. Good luck in your important job. Thank you so much.
George H. W. Bush responded:Let me say first that I know it must have been difficult for you to seek my help in the situation outlined in your letter. I believe I can appreciate your state of mind in view of your daughter's tragic death a few years ago, and the current poor state of your wife's health. I was extremely sorry to hear of these circumstances. In your situation I can well imagine how the attentions you described in your letter affect both you and your wife. However, my staff has been unable to find any indication of interest in your activities on the part of Federal authorities in recent years. The flurry of interest that attended your testimony before the Warren Commission has long subsided. I can only speculate that you may have become "newsworthy" again in view of the renewed interest in the Kennedy assassination, and thus may be attracting the attention of people in the media. I hope this letter had been of some comfort to you, George, although I realize I am unable to answer your question completely.
— George Bush, Director of Central Intelligence. [CIA Exec Reg. # 76,51571 9.28.76]
On November 9, 1976, Jeanne had Mohrenschildt committed to a mental institution in Texas for three months, and listed in a notarized affidavit four previous suicide attempts while he was in the Dallas area. In the affidavit, she stated that Mohrenschildt suffered from depression, heard voices, saw visions, and believed that the CIA and the Jewish Mafia were persecuting him. However, he was released at the end of the year....
On March 16, 1977, Mohrenschildt returned to the United States from his trip. His daughter talked with him at length and found him to be deeply disturbed about certain matters, reporting that he had expressed a desire to kill himself. On March 29, Mohrenschildt gave an interview to author Edward Jay Epstein, during which he claimed that in 1962, Dallas CIA operative J. Walton Moore and one of Moore's associates had handed him the address of Lee Harvey Oswald in nearby Fort Worth and then suggested that Mohrenschildt might like to meet him. He suggested to Moore that he would appreciate some help from the U.S. Embassy in Haiti. "I would never have contacted Oswald in a million years if Moore had not sanctioned it," Mohrenschildt said. "Too much was at stake." On the same day as the Epstein interview, Mohrenschildt received a business card from Gaeton Fonzi, an investigator for the House Select Committee on Assassinations, telling him that he would like to see him. The HSCA considered him a "crucial witness". That afternoon, Mohrenschildt was found dead from a self-inflicted shotgun wound to the head in a house at which he was staying in Manalapan, Florida. The coroner's verdict was suicide.
-- George de Mohrenschildt, by Wikipedia
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Re: Freda Bedi Cont'd (#2)
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Part 2 of 3
And speaking of Bush Sr., there's a Tom Slick connection there, too, and it's a very significant one. Slick was on the board of directors of an organization that went by the title of Dresser Industries, a multinational outfit based out of Dallas, Texas. It transpires that Henry Neil Mallon, the president of Dresser, gave George H. W. Bush -- the director of the CIA and future president -- his inroad into the lucrative world of the oil industry. And here's where we see even more evidence of Slick popping up in significant places and with even more significant people.
In the early 1950s, Bush, along with partners Hugh and Bill Liedtke, established Zapata Petroleum, a company that in just a few years was worth millions. In 1954, the president-to-be decided to go it alone and purchased the subsidiary Zapata OffShore. By 1958, the company was drilling in Mexico's eastern Gulf. Intriguingly, the islands of the area had been leased to Howard Hughes -- himself deeply involved with the CIA -- and plans were made to use them as bases from which to attack Cuba in the early 1960s. And guess who was a very close friend of Hughes back then? Tom Slick. The two even had adjoining premises at the Beverly Hills Hotel!
And so we see Tom Slick mixing with CIA asset Howard Hughes, an outfit (Dresser Industries) that put a U.S. president and CIA director on the road to success, a shadowy and controversy-filled character with links to Lee Harvey Oswald, and a powerful baronet who spent a great deal of time ensuring that the West's influence in the Orient remained strong and vital And, as if more proof were needed of Slick's ties to officialdom. the family's corporation ran a freight airline service called Slick Airways, whose Douglas DC-4 and DC-6 aircraft and its Lockheed Super Constellations were used in clandestine CIA missions to secretly ferry munitions and agents to areas of the globe where the Agency wished to wield its influence (in other words, pretty much everywhere).
Cryptozoology vs. Cryptic-Zoology
To further support the idea that Tom Slick was an important asset of the CIA, we see that he was not the only one who combined monster-hunting with a bit of daring espionage. There were others in the field of cryptozoology who appeared to be doing exactly the same thing when circumstances demanded it. Sidney Dillon Ripley was just one such example. In the Second World War he was in the employ of the Office of Strategic Services, which was the biggest inspiration behind the creation of the CIA in 1947. From 1964 to 1984, he was also the secretary of the prestigious Smithsonian Institute and a board member of the World Wildlife Fund. Loren Coleman says of Ripley that he was "involved in several cryptozoological episodes, including the search for the Spiny Babbler," a peculiar and elusive species of bird that lives only in Nepal. Concerning Ripley's links to the covert and clandestine world of intelligence, as well as his enthusiasm for seeking out unusual or legendary animals, Coleman has this to say: "There is little doubt he used his searching for multiple objectives" (Coleman, 2006).
Then there is a character named John Chambers [make-up artist], who passed away in 2001. A major force in the world of Hollywood, Chambers was responsible for the groundbreaking facial makeup in the 1968 movie Planet of the Apes, for which he deservedly won an Academy Award. Chambers was also openly accused of being the brains behind the so-called Patterson Film, a decidedly controversial piece of footage shot on October 20, 1967, by a man named Roger Patterson, at the Klamath River in California. The film appears to document a large, hairy female Bigfoot on the move. For the record, Chambers denied playing any kind of role whatsoever in the creation of the film. It is, however, most interesting that Chambers was awarded the CIA's highest award for civilians, given his connection to Bigfoot via the Patterson footage, and the fact that he had brought the creatures in Planet of the Apes to life. The reason for the award was actually simple and prosaic: He secretly assisted the agency when field agents were required to be disguised using makeup, wigs, and advanced prosthetics.
There were other cryptozoologists who were rumored to have connections to the high echelons of U.S. government. An acclaimed and near-legendary cryptozoologist named Ivan T. Sanderson was the author of many books, including Abominable Snowmen: Legend Come to Life and Green Silence: Travels through the Jungles of the Orient. Sanderson also happened to have worked for Britain's Naval Intelligence during the Second World War. His specialty: counterespionage.
Then there was Carleton S. Coon, a professor of anthropology at the University of Pennsylvania, a man with a Significant interest in the Abominable Snowman, and, like Ivan T. Sanderson, an asset of the Office of Strategic Services. He was a rumored asset of the CIA, too.
And speaking of Bush Sr., there's a Tom Slick connection there, too, and it's a very significant one. Slick was on the board of directors of an organization that went by the title of Dresser Industries, a multinational outfit based out of Dallas, Texas. It transpires that Henry Neil Mallon, the president of Dresser, gave George H. W. Bush -- the director of the CIA and future president -- his inroad into the lucrative world of the oil industry. And here's where we see even more evidence of Slick popping up in significant places and with even more significant people.
Dresser Industries, Inc. [CIA partner]. Maintained liaison with the CIA through the Business Council.
-- The Almost Classified Guide to CIA Front Companies, Proprietaries & Contractors, by Wayne Madsen
Henry Neil Mallon (1895 – March 1, 1983) was an American businessman. He served as the chair of the board, president, and director of Dresser Industries (Cleveland, OH) (now Halliburton).
Henry Neil Mallon was born in 1895. He graduated from Yale University, where he became friends with Prescott Bush.
Mallon served as chair of the board, president, and director of Dresser Industries. He was also the president of Dresser Manufacturing Limited (Toronto, Ontario, Canada); the chair of the board, director, Bryant Heater Company (Cleveland, Ohio); factory manager, general manager, director 20–29, US Can Company (Cincinnati, Ohio); 19–20 w/Continental Can Company (Chicago, Illinois); Director, Bovaud & Seyfang Manufacturing Company (Bradford, Pennsylvania), Clark Brothers Inc (Olean, New York), Day & Night Manufacturing Company (Monrovia, California), International Derrick & Equipment Company (Columbus, Ohio), Kobe, Inc (Huntington Park, California), Pacific Pumps, Inc (CA), Roots-Connersville Blower Corporation (Connersville, Indiana), Security Engineering Company (Whittier, California), Stacey Brothers, Gus Construction Company (Cincinnati, Ohio), Pharis Tire & Rubber Company (Newark, Ohio), Petrolite Corporation (St. Louis, Missouri), Magazines of Industry (New York City), Hydrocarbon Research Inc (New York City), Carthage Hydrocol Corporation (New York City).
Mallon hired George Herbert Walker Bush to work for Dresser Industries in West Texas shortly after he graduated from Yale University. He was also an early investor in Zapata Corporation, founded by Bush. Bush in turn named one of his sons, Neil Mallon Bush, after his mentor.
-- Henry Neil Mallon, by Wikipedia
In the early 1950s, Bush, along with partners Hugh and Bill Liedtke, established Zapata Petroleum, a company that in just a few years was worth millions. In 1954, the president-to-be decided to go it alone and purchased the subsidiary Zapata OffShore. By 1958, the company was drilling in Mexico's eastern Gulf. Intriguingly, the islands of the area had been leased to Howard Hughes -- himself deeply involved with the CIA -- and plans were made to use them as bases from which to attack Cuba in the early 1960s. And guess who was a very close friend of Hughes back then? Tom Slick. The two even had adjoining premises at the Beverly Hills Hotel!
Hughes Aircraft Corporation. [CIA partner]. Based in Culver City, California, provided corporate cover for CIA officers, including Barton Evans, the CIA specialist on world aviation. CIA slipped in agents under Hughes cover to spy on Soviet aircraft exhibited at the Paris Air Show. Involved with CIA's Project OXCARD (SR-71/A-12) and AQUATONE (U-2).
Hughes Tool Company. [CIA partner]. Operated Sal Cay in the Bahamas as a CIA base for the Bay of Pigs invasion of Cuba.
-- The Almost Classified Guide to CIA Front Companies, Proprietaries & Contractors, by Wayne Madsen
And so we see Tom Slick mixing with CIA asset Howard Hughes, an outfit (Dresser Industries) that put a U.S. president and CIA director on the road to success, a shadowy and controversy-filled character with links to Lee Harvey Oswald, and a powerful baronet who spent a great deal of time ensuring that the West's influence in the Orient remained strong and vital And, as if more proof were needed of Slick's ties to officialdom. the family's corporation ran a freight airline service called Slick Airways, whose Douglas DC-4 and DC-6 aircraft and its Lockheed Super Constellations were used in clandestine CIA missions to secretly ferry munitions and agents to areas of the globe where the Agency wished to wield its influence (in other words, pretty much everywhere).
Cryptozoology vs. Cryptic-Zoology
To further support the idea that Tom Slick was an important asset of the CIA, we see that he was not the only one who combined monster-hunting with a bit of daring espionage. There were others in the field of cryptozoology who appeared to be doing exactly the same thing when circumstances demanded it. Sidney Dillon Ripley was just one such example. In the Second World War he was in the employ of the Office of Strategic Services, which was the biggest inspiration behind the creation of the CIA in 1947. From 1964 to 1984, he was also the secretary of the prestigious Smithsonian Institute and a board member of the World Wildlife Fund. Loren Coleman says of Ripley that he was "involved in several cryptozoological episodes, including the search for the Spiny Babbler," a peculiar and elusive species of bird that lives only in Nepal. Concerning Ripley's links to the covert and clandestine world of intelligence, as well as his enthusiasm for seeking out unusual or legendary animals, Coleman has this to say: "There is little doubt he used his searching for multiple objectives" (Coleman, 2006).
Sidney Dillon Ripley II (September 20, 1913 – March 12, 2001) was an American ornithologist and wildlife conservationist. He served as secretary of the Smithsonian Institution for 20 years, from 1964 to 1984, leading the institution through its period of greatest growth and expansion. For his leadership at the Smithsonian, he was awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom by Ronald Reagan in 1985.
Ripley was born in New York City, after a brother, Louis, was born in 1906 in Litchfield, Connecticut.. His mother was Constance Baillie Rose of Scottish descent while his father was Louis Arthur Dillon Ripley, a wealthy real estate agent who drove around in an 1898 Renault Voiturette. Both his paternal grandparents, Julia and Josiah Dwight Ripley, died before he was born but he connected to them was through Cora Dillon Wyckoff. Great Aunt Cora and her husband, Dr. Peter Wyckoff, often hosted young Ripley at their Park Avenue apartment. Cora and Julia's father (his great-grandfather) and partial namesake was Sidney Dillon, twice President of the Union Pacific Railroad. and his uncle was Sidney Dillon Ripley I. Both Gilded Age tycoons....
In 1936, he graduated with a Bachelor of Arts from Yale University. While at Yale he briefly considered a more traditional career path after a conversation with his brother. “Louis told me we ought to have a lawyer in the family,” he has said, “but I really hated the idea, and in the summer of 1936, after graduating from college, I resolved to abandon all thoughts of a prosperous and worthy future and devote myself to birds, the subject I was overpoweringly interested in.”
A friend of the Ripleys, John Mott, whose father founded the Young Men's Christian Association, and Celestine Mott were planning a visit to India to set up a YMCA hostel in India.John Raleigh Mott (May 25, 1865 – January 31, 1955) was an evangelist and long-serving leader of the Young Men's Christian Association (YMCA) and the World Student Christian Federation (WSCF). He received the Nobel Peace Prize in 1946 for his work in establishing and strengthening international Protestant Christian student organizations that worked to promote peace. He shared the prize with Emily Balch. From 1895 until 1920 Mott was the General Secretary of the WSCF. Intimately involved in the formation of the World Council of Churches in 1948, that body elected him as a lifelong honorary President. His best-known book, The Evangelization of the World in this Generation, became a missionary slogan in the early 20th century.
-- John Mott, by Wikipedia
This led to a visit to India at age 13, along with his sister. They stayed at the Taj Mahal Hotel in Bombay and then went to Kashmir and included a walking tour into Ladakh and western Tibet. In Kashmir, they flew falcons with Colonel Biddulph.Colonel John Biddulph (25 July 1840 – 24 December 1921) was a British soldier, author and naturalist who served in the government of British India.
Biddulph was born in 1840, and was the third son of Robert Biddulph. He was educated at Westminster School, and at the age of 18 joined the 19th Lancers and proceeded to India where he served in Awadh during the Indian Rebellion of 1857. Afterwards, he joined the political department of the government of British India. Between 1873 and 1874 he accompanied Thomas Douglas Forsyth, Thomas E. Gordon, Henry Walter Bellew, Ferdinand Stoliczka, Henry Trotter, and R. A. Champman on the Second Yarkand Mission – an expedition across the Himalayas to Chinese Turkestan. During this journey, Biddulph collected numerous specimens of birds and mammals, including an unknown species of Podoces which was later named in his honour by Allan Octavian Hume as Podoces biddulphi.
In 1877 Biddulph was posted at Gilgit, in the extreme north-western corner of Kashmir, and remained there until 1881. During this period he corresponded on ornithology with Hume and his observations and research in this region were published in two papers in the Ibis. After holding many posts as British Resident at various princely states and serving for four years on the staff of the Viceroy of India, Lord Northbrook, Biddulph retired from the service in 1896. He died on 24 December 1921 in Grey Court, London, aged 81.
-- John Biddulph, by Wikipedia
They also visited Calcutta and Nagpur. One of Ripley's brothers shot a tiger at a shoot hosted by a Maharaja. This led to his lifelong interest in the birds of India. He returned to St Paul's to complete his studies. It was suggested to him that Yale would be the best for him. Ripley received a training in making specimens from Frank Chapman [an American ornithologist and pioneering writer of field guides] and even had tea once as a sophomore [with] Erwin Stresemann.Erwin Stresemann (22 November 1889, in Dresden – 20 November 1972, in East Berlin) was a German naturalist and ornithologist. Stresemann was an ornithologist of extensive breadth who compiled one of the first and most comprehensive accounts of avian biology of its time as part of the Handbuch der Zoologie (Handbook of Zoology). In the process of his studies on birds, he also produced one of the most extensive historical accounts on the development of the science of ornithology. He influenced numerous ornithologists around him and oversaw the development of ornithology in Germany as editor of the Journal für Ornithologie.
-- Erwin Stresemann, by Wikipedia
He decided that birds were more interesting than law and after graduating from Yale in 1936 he was advised by Ernst Mayr that "the most important thing you can do is get a sound and broad biological training."Ernst Walter Mayr ForMemRS (/ˈmaɪər/; 5 July 1904 – 3 February 2005)[1][2] was one of the 20th century's leading evolutionary biologists. He was also a renowned taxonomist, tropical explorer, ornithologist, philosopher of biology, and historian of science. His work contributed to the conceptual revolution that led to the modern evolutionary synthesis of Mendelian genetics, systematics, and Darwinian evolution, and to the development of the biological species concept.
Although Charles Darwin and others posited that multiple species could evolve from a single common ancestor, the mechanism by which this occurred was not understood, creating the species problem. Ernst Mayr approached the problem with a new definition for species. In his book Systematics and the Origin of Species (1942) he wrote that a species is not just a group of morphologically similar individuals, but a group that can breed only among themselves, excluding all others. When populations within a species become isolated by geography, feeding strategy, mate choice, or other means, they may start to differ from other populations through genetic drift and natural selection, and over time may evolve into new species. The most significant and rapid genetic reorganization occurs in extremely small populations that have been isolated (as on islands).
His theory of peripatric speciation (a more precise form of allopatric speciation which he advanced), based on his work on birds, is still considered a leading mode of speciation, and was the theoretical underpinning for the theory of punctuated equilibrium, proposed by Niles Eldredge and Stephen Jay Gould. Mayr is sometimes credited with inventing modern philosophy of biology, particularly the part related to evolutionary biology, which he distinguished from physics due to its introduction of (natural) history into science.
-- Ernst Mayr, by Wikipedia
He then enrolled at Columbia University. and he began studying zoology at Columbia University. As a part of his study, Ripley participated in the Denison-Crockett Expedition to New Guinea in 1937-1938 and the Vanderbilt Expedition to Sumatra in 1939. He later obtained a Ph.D. in Zoology from Harvard University in 1943.
During World War II, he served under William J. Donovan ("Coordinator of Information") in the Office of Strategic Services, the predecessor of the Central Intelligence Agency. In the early days Ripley acted as liaison with the British Security Coordination led by Sir William Stephenson at the Rockefeller Center. He later was in charge of American intelligence services in Southeast Asia. Others who joined the OSS early included Ripley's Yale friends Sherman Kent and Wilmarth S. Lewis. Ripley held a high regard for his OSS colleagues and considered it unfair on the part of some to decry those who were socially inclined leading to some calling the organization as "Oh So Social".The wealthy have always used many methods to accumulate wealth, but it was not until the mid-1970s that these methods coalesced into a superbly organized, cohesive and efficient machine. After 1975, it became greater than the sum of its parts, a smooth flowing organization of advocacy groups, lobbyists, think tanks, conservative foundations, and PR firms that hurtled the richest 1 percent into the stratosphere.
The origins of this machine, interestingly enough, can be traced back to the CIA. This is not to say the machine is a formal CIA operation, complete with code name and signed documents. (Although such evidence may yet surface — and previously unthinkable domestic operations such as MK-ULTRA, CHAOS and MOCKINGBIRD show this to be a distinct possibility.) But what we do know already indicts the CIA strongly enough. Its principle creators were Irving Kristol, Paul Weyrich, William Simon, Richard Mellon Scaife, Frank Shakespeare, William F. Buckley, Jr., the Rockefeller family, and more. Almost all the machine's creators had CIA backgrounds.
During the 1970s, these men would take the propaganda and operational techniques they had learned in the Cold War and apply them to the Class War. Therefore it is no surprise that the American version of the machine bears an uncanny resemblance to the foreign versions designed to fight communism. The CIA's expert and comprehensive organization of the business class would succeed beyond their wildest dreams. In 1975, the richest 1 percent owned 22 percent of America’s wealth. By 1992, they would nearly double that, to 42 percent — the highest level of inequality in the 20th century.
How did this alliance start? The CIA has always recruited the nation’s elite: millionaire businessmen, Wall Street brokers, members of the national news media, and Ivy League scholars. During World War II, General "Wild Bill" Donovan became chief of the Office of Strategic Services (OSS), the forerunner of the CIA. Donovan recruited so exclusively from the nation’s rich and powerful that members eventually came to joke that "OSS" stood for "Oh, so social!"
Another early elite was Allen Dulles, who served as Director of the CIA from 1953 to 1961. Dulles was a senior partner at the Wall Street firm of Sullivan and Cromwell, which represented the Rockefeller empire and other mammoth trusts, corporations and cartels. He was also a board member of the J. Henry Schroeder Bank, with offices in Wall Street, London, Zurich and Hamburg. His financial interests across the world would become a conflict of interest when he became head of the CIA. Like Donavan, he would recruit exclusively from society’s elite.
-- The Origins of the Overclass, by Steve Kangas
Ripley trained many Indonesian spies, all of whom were killed during the war. He was posted briefly to Australia with the identity of a lieutenant colonel in case he was captured. He was to go through England, Egypt, China and then on to India and Ceylon. He then worked with Detachment 404 in Bangkok, working to recover Allied airmen who had been captured in the region with the help of friendly Thais who worked to keep them under cover from the Japanese forces. After this period he moved to Sri Lanka and never got to Australia as originally planned. He worked with and "cultivated" Lord Mountbatten throughout this period. The two often met at dinners and parties both in New Delhi and at Trincomalee. On one occasion, Ripley noticed a green woodpecker and went off to shoot it while dressed only in a towel. The specimen label reads "Shot at cocktail party... towel fell off." It was in Kandy, Sri Lanka that he met his future wife Mary Livingston and her roommate Julia Child (then Julia McWilliams) both working with the OSS. The anthropologist Gregory Bateson was also here and he would introduce Julia to Paul Child, her future husband. An article in the August 26, 1950 New Yorker said that Ripley reversed the usual pattern, where spies posed as ornithologists in order to gain access to sensitive areas, and instead used his position as an intelligence officer to go birding in restricted areas. The government of Thailand awarded him the Order of the White Elephant, a national award for his support of the Thai underground during the war. In 1947, Ripley entered Nepal pretending to be a close confidante of Jawaharlal Nehru and the Nepal government, eager to maintain diplomatic ties with its newly independent neighbour, allowed him and Edward Migdalski to collect bird specimens. Nehru came to hear of this from an article in The New Yorker and was furious, leading to a difficult time for his collaborator and coauthor, Salim Ali. Salim Ali came to hear of Nehru's displeasure through Horace Alexander and the matter was forgiven after some effort. The OSS past however led to a growing suspicion that American scientists working in India were CIA agents. David Challinor, a former Smithsonian administrator, noted that there were many CIA agents in India, with some posing as scientists. He noted that the Smithsonian sent a scholar to India for anthropological research who unknown to them was interviewing Tibetan refugees from Chinese-occupied Tibet but went on to say that there was no evidence that Ripley worked for the CIA after he left the OSS in 1945.
He joined the American Ornithologists' Union in 1938, became an Elective Member in 1942, and a fellow in 1951. After the war he taught at Yale and was a Fulbright fellow in 1950 and a Guggenheim fellow in 1954. At Yale, one of the key scientific influences on Ripley was the ecologist G. Evelyn Hutchinson, who had led the Yale expedition to India in 1932. Ripley became a full professor and director of the Peabody Museum of Natural History. Ripley served for many years on the board of the World Wildlife Fund in the U.S., and was the third president of the International Council for Bird Preservation (ICBP, now BirdLife International).
-- Sidney Dillon Ripley, by Wikipedia
Then there is a character named John Chambers [make-up artist], who passed away in 2001. A major force in the world of Hollywood, Chambers was responsible for the groundbreaking facial makeup in the 1968 movie Planet of the Apes, for which he deservedly won an Academy Award. Chambers was also openly accused of being the brains behind the so-called Patterson Film, a decidedly controversial piece of footage shot on October 20, 1967, by a man named Roger Patterson, at the Klamath River in California. The film appears to document a large, hairy female Bigfoot on the move. For the record, Chambers denied playing any kind of role whatsoever in the creation of the film. It is, however, most interesting that Chambers was awarded the CIA's highest award for civilians, given his connection to Bigfoot via the Patterson footage, and the fact that he had brought the creatures in Planet of the Apes to life. The reason for the award was actually simple and prosaic: He secretly assisted the agency when field agents were required to be disguised using makeup, wigs, and advanced prosthetics.
John Chambers (September 12, 1922 – August 25, 2001) was an American make-up artist and prosthetic makeup expert in both television and film. He received an Academy Honorary Award from The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences in 1968. He is best known for creating the pointed ears of Spock in the television series Star Trek (1966), and for his groundbreaking prosthetic make-up work on the Planet of the Apes film franchise.
Chambers was awarded CIA's Intelligence Medal of Merit for his involvement in the Canadian Caper, in which six American hostages escaped during the 1979 Iran hostage crisis.The "Canadian Caper" was the joint covert rescue by the Canadian government and the CIA of six American diplomats who had evaded capture during the seizure of the United States embassy in Tehran, Iran, on November 4, 1979, after the Iranian Revolution, when Islamist students took most of the American embassy personnel hostage, demanding the return of the US-backed Shah for trial.
After the diplomats had been sheltered by the British mission and Canadian diplomatic personnel, the Canadian and United States governments worked on a strategy to gain their escape through subterfuge and use of Canadian passports. The "caper" involved CIA officer (Tony Mendez and his colleague known as "Julio" for this event) joining the six diplomats in Tehran to form a fake film crew. It was purportedly made up of six Canadians, one Irishman and one Latin American, who were finishing scouting for an appropriate location to shoot a scene for the nominal science-fiction film Argo. On the morning of Sunday, January 27, 1980, the full eight-person party passed through passport control, at the Mehrabad Airport in Tehran, boarded a Swissair flight to Zürich and escaped Iran.
An article written about these events was published in Wired in 2007. It was used loosely as the basis of the film Argo (2012), which dramatized these events. This fictionalized account of the operation won three Academy Awards and three BAFTA awards, including Best Picture.
-- Canadian Caper, by Wikipedia
The incident was the basis of the film Argo, which won the 2012 Academy Award for Best Picture, and in which Chambers was played by John Goodman....
Work with the CIA
In the late 1970s, Chambers worked as a contractor for the CIA, creating "disguise kits" for CIA personnel stationed in other countries. Some of his work can be seen at the International Spy Museum in Washington D.C.
In 1980, Chambers was enlisted by CIA officer Tony Mendez to work on the Canadian Caper—the rescue of six American embassy personnel who hid at the residence of the Canadian ambassador during the Iran hostage crisis. Chambers set up a fake movie and production company as a cover story of a film crew planning to shoot a science fiction film, titled Argo, in Iran. To make the cover believable, Chambers used actor Michael Douglas's former office during the filming of The China Syndrome (1979) at Sunset Gower Studios. Chambers and Mendez printed fake business cards, held a film press party at a nightclub in Los Angeles, and took out advertisements in Variety and The Hollywood Reporter magazines. Fellow make-up artist Robert Sidell and his wife Andi assisted in the hoax; Andi posed as the receptionist of their fake production company.
The rescue effort was successful, and Chambers was awarded CIA's Intelligence Medal of Merit, but he was required to keep his involvement a secret, until the story was declassified in 1997. In the 2012 Academy Award for Best Picture-winning film Argo, Chambers was portrayed by John Goodman.
-- John Chambers (make-up artist), by Wikipedia
There were other cryptozoologists who were rumored to have connections to the high echelons of U.S. government. An acclaimed and near-legendary cryptozoologist named Ivan T. Sanderson was the author of many books, including Abominable Snowmen: Legend Come to Life and Green Silence: Travels through the Jungles of the Orient. Sanderson also happened to have worked for Britain's Naval Intelligence during the Second World War. His specialty: counterespionage.
Ivan Terence Sanderson (January 30, 1911 – February 19, 1973) was a biologist and writer born in Edinburgh, Scotland, who became a naturalized citizen of the United States. Along with Belgian-French biologist Bernard Heuvelmans, Sanderson was a founding figure of cryptozoology, a pseudoscience and subculture. Sanderson authored material on paranormal subjects and wrote fiction under the pen name Terence Roberts....
He became famous claiming to have seen an Olitiau after being attacked by a creature he described as "the Granddaddy of all bats".The olitiau is a giant bat reported from the Assumbo Mountains of Cameroon in West-Central Africa, known from native folklore and a single sighting made by Ivan T. Sanderson. It has sometimes been equated with the kongamato.
-- Olitiau, by Encyclopedia of Cryptozoology
Sanderson conducted a number of expeditions as a teenager and young man into tropical areas in the 1920s and 1930s, gaining fame for his animal collecting as well as his popular writings on nature and travel.
During World War II, Sanderson worked for British Naval Intelligence, in charge of counter-espionage against the Germans in the Caribbean, then for British Security Coordination,...British Security Co-ordination (BSC) was a covert organisation set up in New York City by the British Secret Intelligence Service (MI6) in May 1940 upon the authorisation of the Prime Minister, Winston Churchill.
Its purpose was to investigate enemy activities, prevent sabotage against British interests in the Americas, and mobilise pro-British opinion in the Americas. As a 'huge secret agency of nationwide news manipulation and black propaganda', the BSC influenced news coverage in the Herald Tribune, the New York Post, The Baltimore Sun, and Radio New York Worldwide. The stories disseminated from Rockefeller Center would then be legitimately picked up by other radio stations and newspapers, before being relayed to the American public. Through this, anti-German stories were placed in major American media outlets to turn public opinion.
Its cover was the British Passport Control Office. BSC benefitted from support given by the chief of the US Office of Strategic Services, William J. Donovan (whose organisation was modelled on British activities), and US President Franklin D. Roosevelt who was staunchly anti-Nazi.
-- British Security Co-ordination, by Wikipedia
finally finishing out the war as a press agent in New York City. Afterwards, Sanderson made New York his home and became a naturalized U.S. citizen....
Sanderson was an early follower of Charles Fort. Later he became known for writings on topics such as cryptozoology, a word Sanderson coined in the early 1940s, with special attention to the search for lake monsters, sea serpents, Mokèlé-mbèmbé, giant penguins, Yeti, and Sasquatch.
Sanderson's book Abominable Snowmen argued that there are four living types of abominable snowmen scattered over five continents. The book was criticized in the Science journal as unscientific. The reviewer noted that "unfortunately, the author's concept of what constitutes scientific evidence will scarcely be accepted by most scientists. His standards are unbelievably low." Sanderson relied upon anecdotal reports and dubious footprints.
Sanderson has been described as credulous for suggesting that aircraft and boats went missing at Devil's Sea because of a wrinkle in spacetime, gravitational or magnetic aberrations, extra-terrestrials or mysterious underwater people. Larry Kusche who traced the Devil's sea stories to their original sources found that the phenomena of Devil's Sea had been fabricated and was nothing more than an exaggeration based on the loss of several fishing boats over a period of five years.
Sanderson's credibility was damaged with his endorsement of the giant penguin hoax. In 1948 (and the next decade), giant three-toed footprints were found at Clearwater Beach in Florida. Sanderson proclaimed that the footprints were impossible to fake and were made by a fifteen-foot tall penguin. In 1988, Tony Signorini a prankster admitted that with a friend he had made the footprints by a pair of cast iron feet attached to high-top sneakers.
Sanderson founded the Ivan T. Sanderson Foundation in August 1965 on his New Jersey property, which became the Society for the Investigation of the Unexplained (SITU) in 1967. SITU was a non-profit organization that investigated claims of strange phenomena ignored by mainstream science.
-- Ivan T. Sanderson, by Wikipedia
Then there was Carleton S. Coon, a professor of anthropology at the University of Pennsylvania, a man with a Significant interest in the Abominable Snowman, and, like Ivan T. Sanderson, an asset of the Office of Strategic Services. He was a rumored asset of the CIA, too.
Carleton Stevens Coon (June 23, 1904 – June 3, 1981) was an American physical anthropologist. A Professor of Anthropology at the University of Pennsylvania, lecturer and professor at Harvard University, he was president of the American Association of Physical Anthropologists. Coon's theories on race were widely disputed in his lifetime and are considered pseudoscientific in modern anthropology....
Coon's interest was in attempting to use Darwin's theory of natural selection to explain the differing physical characteristics of races. Coon studied Albanians from 1920 to 1930; he traveled to Ethiopia in 1933; and in Arabia, North Africa and the Balkans, he worked on sites from 1925 to 1939, where he discovered a Neanderthal in 1939. Coon rewrote William Z. Ripley's 1899 The Races of Europe in 1939.
Coon wrote widely for a general audience like his mentor Earnest Hooton.Earnest Albert Hooton (November 20, 1887 – May 3, 1954) was an American physical anthropologist known for his work on racial classification and his popular writings such as the book Up From The Ape. Hooton sat on the Committee on the Negro, a group that "focused on the anatomy of blacks and reflected the racism of the time."...
He was educated at Lawrence University in Appleton, Wisconsin. After earning his BA there in 1907, he won a Rhodes Scholarship to Oxford University, which he deferred in order to continue his studies in the United States. He pursued graduate studies in Classics at the University of Wisconsin–Madison, where he received an MA in 1908 and a Ph.D. in 1911 on "The Pre-Hellenistic Stage of the Evolution of the Literary Art at Rome", and then continued on to England. He applied for and was awarded a Rhodes scholarship, electing to study at Oxford. There he assisted in the excavation of Viking boat burials. Studying with R.R. Marett, he received a diploma in 1912 and with Marett’s strong support he secured a teaching position at Harvard for next four decades. During this time, he was also Curator of Somatology at the nearby Peabody Museum of Archaeology and Ethnology....
Hooton used comparative anatomy to divide humanity up into races — in Hooton's case, this involved describing the morphological characteristics of different "primary races" and the various "subtypes". In 1926, the American Association of Physical Anthropology and the National Research Council organized a Committee on the Negro, which focused on the anatomy of blacks. Among those appointed to the Committee on the Negro were Aleš Hrdlička, Earnest Hooton and eugenist Charles Davenport. In 1927, the committee endorsed a comparison of African babies with young apes. Ten years later, the group published findings in the American Journal of Physical Anthropology to "prove that the negro race is phylogenetically a closer approach to primitive man than the white race." Hooton played a key part in establishing the racial stereotypes about black athleticism and black criminality of his day in terms of an anthropological framework. Hooton was one of the first to attempt to develop mathematically rigorous criteria for race typology.
At the same time, Hooton maintained that no scientific basis existed correlating mentality with racial variation. "...Each racial type runs the gamut from idiots and criminals to geniuses and statesmen. No type produces a majority of individuals from either end of the scale. While there may be specific racial abilities and disabilities, these have not yet been demonstrated. There are no racial monopolies either of human virtues or of vices." While advocating eugenic sterilizations of those deemed "insane, diseased, and criminalistic", he emphasized there was no justification to correlate such "degeneracy", as he termed it, with race.
-- Earnest Hooton, by Wikipedia
Coon published The Riffians, Flesh of the Wild Ox, Measuring Ethiopia, and A North Africa Story: The Anthropologist as OSS Agent. A North Africa Story was an account of his work in North Africa during World War II, which involved espionage and the smuggling of arms to French resistance groups in German-occupied Morocco under the guise of anthropological fieldwork. During that time, Coon was affiliated with the United States Office of Strategic Services, the forerunner to the Central Intelligence Agency.
Coon served as a mentor to another Harvard-educated OSS agent and anthropologist who embraced anthropometry (measuring features of the human body, such as crania and nose sizes) as a means asserting racial types and categories. This was Lloyd Cabot Briggs, author of Living Races of the Sahara Desert (1958) and later of No More for Ever: A Saharan Jewish Town (1962) about the Jews of the Mzab region of the Algerian Sahara, which he wrote with Norina Lami Guède (née Maria Esterina Giovanni). The historian Sarah Abreyava Stein (who argued that Guede had done most of the research) noted that Briggs and Coon corresponded during the writing of No More for Ever, joking, for example, about the genital depilation customs of Jewish women in Ghardaïa....Strategic Services?
When Lloyd Cabot Briggs submitted an application to the FBI in April 1942, hoping to service the Office of Strategic Services [OSS], the precursor to the Central Intelligence Agency, as a civilian in North Africa, he identified himself as the recipient of a 1931 bachelor's degree in anthropology from Harvard University, a 1932 diploma in anthropology from the University of Oxford, a 1938 master's degree in anthropology from Harvard and nearly a decade's experience as a stockbroker; a fluent speaker of French and a passable speaker of German and Spanish; a graduate of ten army extension courses and holder of a Restricted Radio Telephone Operator's License; and member of various academic societies in England and the United States. Briggs required only one week's advance notice for deployment and was willing to accept "any" pay.4 His application did not state that the applicant could also boast a powerful genealogical lineage -- both Lloyd Cabot Briggs and his wife of seven years, Eleanor Moncrieffe Livingston, hailed from Boston Brahmin families.5 What a fine match Briggs made for the OSS, called by some the "Oh So Social" due to the significant number of socially prominent men and women it attracted.6 As for Briggs himself, he was -- in the words of his interviewer at the OSS -- "cool" and "tough."7 Six months after lodging his application with the FBI, Briggs arrived in Algiers. He was thirty-four years old. Blue blood, personal connections, an elite education, a robust work portfolio -- combined, these elements ensured that Briggs would "occupy the equivalent of the position of a Major in his assignment in North Africa" and be paid $443 each month, including $250 in base pay, $105 for lodging, $63 for "subsistence," and $25 for "foreign duty."8 It was a significant sum and a lofty title for a young man with neither military nor intelligence experience to occupy in war-torn Algiers.
Created by presidential military order of Franklin Roosevelt but a year prior to Briggs's arrival in Algeria, the OSS existed for three years, from 1942 to 1945, after which the obligations of the organization were assumed by the Department of State and Department of War, an arrangement maintained until President Truman created the Central Intelligence Agency in 1947. Because they possessed linguistic skills that were rare among members of the armed forces, social scientists (numerous anthropologists among them) were targeted by the OSS as would-be employees; as such, the scholars were tasked with supplying the Joint Chiefs of Staff with information pertinent to the war effort (much of which was obtained through espionage), conducting special assignments and spreading Allied propaganda. David Price has argued that the Second World War ushered in an era of optimism within the anthropological community, which overwhelmingly supported the idea of scholars' contributing to the war effort; this was a departure from the skepticism of earlier years (in 1917, Franz Boas famously warned fellow anthropologists against putting their skills to the service of the state) and in no way signaled the tremendous discord and rancor that would divide the profession in the Cold War era.9
In subsequent years, Briggs evinced neither modesty nor shame about his service to the OSS. In the heady year 1967 he chose the Fellow Newsletter of the American Anthropological Association to reminisce about his mutually informing work as an OSS officer and anthropologist (this amidst a controversy over a proposal that the AAA to endorse a "Resolution against Warfare" that censured the American government's means of fighting the Vietnam War, including "deliberate policies of genocide" that "offend human nature").10 A similarly sanguine spirit surfaces in the memoir of Carleton Coon, an erstwhile mentor of Briggs's at Harvard, who also served the OSS in North Africa during the war.11 Coon was a self-proclaimed adventurer who had already spent some two decades living, working, and traveling in North Africa, mostly in the Rif Mountains of Morocco. His account of his time as an OSS employee, in which he boasts of training assassins and kidnappers, is nothing short of swashbuckling, occasionally straining credulity and not infrequently raising ethical questions.12
How did Briggs spend the war years? In the wake of the war, when Briggs was nominated for a Medal of Freedom, his supervisor, Rudyard Boulton, would describe Briggs's wartime activities in warm but vague terms: "Mr. Briggs was appointed Security Officer of the Regiment with duties of devising ways and means of indoctrinating regimental personnel, forestalling attempts at penetration on the post of enemy agents, screening and vetting foreign personnel to be employed locally and behind the enemy lines, and assuring the safety of the classified documents of the Regiment."13 In fact. Briggs's experience of war was brief. During the Allied invasion of southern Europe, he joined the Seventh Army as a special security detail in France, but was forced to return quickly due to ill health. By then, most Americans stationed in North Africa had been withdrawn. Briggs was desperate to stay. In a series of frantic letters to his supervisors In Washington, he insisted that the OSS required a man on the ground in Algiers, "certainly the most important city south of Marseille and west of Cairo." Without such a representative in North Africa, Briggs fretted, the OSS would "lose face," and "the U.S. Government will lose face (but seriously, and I believe it is serious)," and certain career diplomats with whom he viewed the OSS (or, perhaps, himself) to be in competition (American Consul Robert Daniel Murphy was one) would win "a rather violent scramble ... for North Africa."14
So began a strange few years, in which Briggs lived in Algiers as a civilian but served, undercover, as "Chief of Station, OSS, Algers" -- a title he either adopted or was assigned in December 1944. In this capacity, he voluntarily adopted a code name for himself ("179") and for others with whom he communicated; he entered into an increasingly embattled relationship with the office of the American Consul General; and he labored without pay for at least six months (from October 1944 to April 1945) because, it seems, no one was directly supervising him.15 Perhaps the single strangest document generated during these ambiguous months was by Briggs's father-in-law, Gerald Livingston, who wrote a caustic letter to the OSS in October 1946 begging the agency to order Briggs's return. Briggs, Livingston wrote, "has very important responsibilities here (in the United States]," including an elderly mother, a wife, a daughter " who is rapidly growing up," (his daughter Eleanor was then seven years old) and a business that was allocating Briggs "a good proportion of the firm's earnings" despite the fact that he was "doing no work." Briggs "has certainly done his duty for our country," his father-in-law continued, cautioning, "No one is essential in any job." "All the husbands of my daughter's friends have returned and are back in their former positions in civilian life," Livingston concluded: "It looks to me as though Mr. B thinks the world will come to an end unless he runs your affairs at Algiers."16
Briggs's father-in-law may have been a crank, but he was not the only discontent; nor was he wrong in sensing something was amiss with his son-in-law in Algiers. Briggs and his wife would divorce within the year, and he was to remarry Madeleine Danus, a native of Marseille, soon after.17 In the professional realm, too, all was not as it seemed. In the unruly, immediate postwar years, a number of grievances against Briggs were lodged with the OSS. One was by Harold Finley, newly appointed American consul in Algiers, who expressed concern about "the erroneous character of the information [Briggs] transmits to the OSS." Finley's attention had apparently earlier been drawn to the unreliability of Briggs's reportage, but his letter to the American Consulate General focused on two recent episodes. The first of these was a report of 29 July 1946, concerning the ostensible arrival, from Brazaville, of the renowned Algerian nationalist Ahmed Ben Messali Hadj. Briggs's report describes the political activist being "received with an impressive informal spontaneous demonstration consisting principally of numerous Moslem owned vehicles forming a cortege to accompany him, and also rushing about certain sections of town, with their occupants shouting "Vive Messali" and similar sentiments."18 This information, Finley noted, did not square with that generated by his own sources, including Air France (which had no evidence of Messali's arrival from Brazaville), government officials, or the city's "newspaper men": he speculated, further, that Briggs's report may well have confused Messali with Andre Marty, secretary of the Communist Party, "who was in transit through Algiers on July 27, and for whom a 'tea' was given at the Hotel de Ville."
The second piece of information to which Finley objected concerned the political predilections of Algiers' Jewish community. In a memo of 30 July, Briggs informed his supervisors of negotiations between the Jewish Consistory and "Moslem Nationalists," by which, in the event of the granting to Algeria of partial or complete autonomy, the Arabs undertake to give the Jews a sort of 'preferred status,' that is to consider them rather as Moslems than Europeans in matters where there is a differentiation between the two. The Jews on their part [sic], have agreed to help the Moslems to achieve as great a degree of independence as possible, and to help them get the new state running." This possibility, Finley's complaint noted, was "startling news, coming at a time when Moslem-Jewish antipathies are extremely bitter."19 Finley's letter to his superior notes that he called Briggs to his office, remarking that it would be prudent for Briggs and the Consulate General's office to "report the same 'facts,' even if, as might be expected from time to time, our interpretations of the facts differed." Briggs replied that he was under instruction from the OSS "to report what he hears without necessarily checking his information.... He added that if the information he reported turned out to be wrong, his error would be discovered in Washington before the report was made available to the Department of State and other Departments having an interest in intelligence." Finley asked Briggs whether he might read the OSS's orders to this effect, to which Briggs retorted they were oral instructions delivered in Washington. It was an episode for which Briggs would be indirectly censured by his superiors.20
Was Finley, new consult in town, struggling to assert authority over an American not directly subordinate to him, whose experience he found threatening or whose standing he felt undeserved? Was Briggs genuinely lazy in his reporting? These questions -- which are impossible to answer with confidence -- are less intriguing than is Briggs's attitude in Algiers, his relationship to the information he gathered, and the narratives this information emboldened him to build. For what Lloyd Cabot Briggs's early history in Algeria teaches us is that this was a lover of drama: a man animated by subterfuge, flashy names, grand encounters, moments of suspense. He was comfortable stringing loosely related anecdotes together -- anecdotes gathered second- and thirdhand, their original source unidentifiable -- and weaving the results into a tale whose vividness was ultimately more pleasing than its veracity. He was alos a man who delighted in connections and credentials, even if their depth was exaggerated.21 These impulses Briggs transmitted from his days in the OSS into "the field" of the Sahara and, ultimately, into the pages of No More for Ever.
Briggs returned to the States in the spring of 1947, and found that his erstwhile mentors at Harvard were receptive to the idea of his "returning to the academic fold." (Prior to his tenure with the OSS Briggs had passed qualifying exams at Harvard that advanced him to the status of doctoral candidate.) His hope was to conduct a portion of his coursework at the University of Algiers, where he had already been approved as a doctoral candidate.22 Were he to return to Algeria, he wished to carry on laboratory work at the Bardo Museum of Algiers with the help of Maurice Reygasse (the museum's director and former district commissioner of Tebessa), to excavate a cave in the Gorges de Palestro, and to tour the country, looking for Paleolithic deposits.23 All these ambitions Briggs would realize within the decade. He successfully pursued a doctorate in physical anthropology (awarded in 1952) under the mentorship of Earnest Hooton and with the assistance of Coon, writing a dissertation that focused on the prehistory of northwest Africa and that hinged on research carried out at the Bardo's Laboratory of Physical Anthropology and Prehistoric Archeology. The year after his degree was completed, Briggs would travel to the Algerian Sahara for the first time in the company of Reygasse and the distinguished American photographer David Douglas Sunchan, who was preparing a photographic essay on the Tuareg of the Sahara for Life magazine.24 (As Briggs wrote to his classmates at Harvard on the occasion of the twenty-fifth anniversary of their graduation: "A great place if you like deserts, which I do.")25 (See figure 3.)
Over a period of fourteen years (1948-1962) that followed his doctoral training at Harvard, Briggs established a home in Algiers (at 7 rue Pierre Viala) and purchased a farm nearby -- these Briggs shared with Danus, who served as something of an assistant to her husband, occasionally accompanying him on his travels.26 All the while, Briggs was amassing an extraordinary private collection of Tuareg art, especially of the Algerian Sahara. Some of these objects he purchased from other collectors, including Reygasse and a number of French army officers, researchers, and colonial administrators; some he purchased on behalf of the Peabody Museum through the American School for Prehistoric Research, an Algiers-based institution affiliated with the Peabody.27 Following Briggs's wishes, his family would donate the bulk of his extraordinary collection to the Peabody after his death.28
Even before Briggs journeyed to the Sahara with Reygasse, he was writing The Living Races of the Sahara Desert. The book's introduction explained to readers: "for the purposes of ecological and cultural description, we will attempt to picture the Saharan peoples as they were two or three generations ago, when substantial modern European political and economic influence had not yet penetrated much beyond the outer fringes of the Desert. Those day as will be our 'present' whenever possible."29 This methodological approach had the advantage of being romantic and practical. As Briggs himself confessed, the study was based on little to no fieldwork but was based, instead, on the published scholarship of others, and, especially, on the insights of Reygasse.30 Reygasse, recalled Briggs jovially, offered the anthropologist the "benefit of his inexhaustible fund of instructive anecdotes and miscellaneous information gathered in the course of extensive travels in the Sahara in years gone by. In many long and pleasant conversations he drew for me pictures of the Desert and its inhabitants so clear and vivid that I was reasonably familiar with many parts of the area before ever I set foot in them."31
-- Saharan Jews and the Fate of French Algeria, by Sarah Abrevaya Stein
Coon did photography work for the United States Air Force from 1954–1957. He photographed areas where US planes might be attacked. This led him to travel throughout Korea, Ceylon, India, Pakistan, Saudi Arabia, Japan, Taiwan, Nepal, Sikkim, and the Philippines.
Coon published The Origin of Races in 1962. In its "Introduction" he described the book as part of the outcome of his project he conceived (in light of his work on The Races of Europe) around the end of 1956, for a work to be titled along the lines of Races of the World. He said that since 1959 he had proceeded with the intention to follow The Origin of Races with a sequel, so the two would jointly fulfill the goals of the original project. (He indeed published The Living Races of Man in 1965.) The book asserted that the human species divided into five races before it had evolved into Homo sapiens. Further, he suggested that the races evolved into Homo sapiens at different times. It was not well received. The field of anthropology was moving rapidly from theories of race typology, and The Origin of Races was widely castigated by his peers in anthropology as supporting racist ideas with outmoded theory and notions which had long since been repudiated by modern science. One of his harshest critics, Theodore Dobzhansky, scorned it as providing "grist for racist mills".
-- Carleton S. Coon, by Wikipedia
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