Promises, Promises

Been thinking about the jittery year of Pearl Harbor. Not only were there wars and rumors of wars, but there were under-currents of counter intelligence and leftist political forces of European origins. My neighbor was a detective on the local police force. He was often involved in such investigative assignments within the community.

Early one evening as I walked by his home he was standing on his driveway. "Tec" spoke up and asked if I were interested in a political science observation. When I replied in the affirmative he told me get some older clothes on and return very shortly. I complied with both orders; we left in his personal car.

Of course I was curious and Tec explained that we were going to a "Radical" meeting at a lodge hall across town. An organizer was coming in from New York to address the members and guests he explained. "Just observe and go through the same motions as I do" were his instructions.

As luck would have it we were recognized by a policeman on duty at the door.

"Jeepers" - he boomed - "what are you two doing here?"

Tec picked it up immediately and asked "Officer, what time does the meeting start?"

"Oh - oh - seven thirty."

We entered and sat among a sparse few. It was obvious who was the guest speaker. He reminded me of one belonging to a pawn shop sitting with a battered black brief case on his lap. He made a pencil notation on a railroad timetable then returned both to the brief case.

Following an introduction which without doubt he had supplied, he began a tirade about comrades who were incarcerated in Poughkeepsie, NY on the last glorious Fourth of July. They had assembled without a permit on the town square. He demanded by a show of hands that those in the audience would send telegrams of protest to the President of the United States, to the United States Supreme Court, to the Governor of New York and the mayor of Poughkeepsie.

Out of the corner of my eye I noticed Tec raise his hand - I flashed mine.

Whatever else the speaker had to say hasn't stuck through the years.

Returning to the car Tec said - "Now for the railroad station."

"Why?"

"Jeepers - lot of help you are! He sat there checking the train schedule - I'm not going to the bus station."

We sat outside the train station with a good view of the ticket window. The black brief case showed up at the window attached to the speaker of the hour. He bought a ticket and headed for the restroom.

Tec went to the ticket window, flashed his badge, determined the destination; made a phone call; returned to the car and said "I turned him over to someone else - we are going home."

As a matter of conscience every time I think about those telegrams of protest something gets in the way - like leaves falling off trees, Pearl Harbor,...
9/11. Well, I'm still thinking about it. And the training Tec received from me that
night must have looked good on his resume; he was a Lt. Commander in Naval Intelligence during WWII.