Read Reclaiming History Online
Authors: Vincent Bugliosi
Manchester’s biography of Kennedy fed into Lee’s fantasy life in an odd way. He began to imagine that the child Marina was carrying—undoubtedly a boy this time, he believed—would one day be president of the United States. Lee, apparently adopting the role of Kennedy’s father, Joseph, would see to that. He believed that Joe Kennedy had more or less bought the presidency for his son, but that would not be beyond Lee, since, in twenty years’ time, he himself would be “president or prime minister,” not troubled, evidently, by the fact that the United States did not have a prime minister. Lee didn’t seem to be speaking lightly—he returned to the idea several times and was offended by Marina’s refusal to take it seriously. She laughed at his pretensions—perhaps with a note of desperation—hoping to pull him back to a more realistic appraisal of their future.
“Okay,” she said, “Papa will be prime minister. Son will be president. And what will I be—chief janitor in the White House? Will I be allowed to clean your room, or will you tell me I’m not to touch your papers even then?”
“We’ll have to see what kind of girl you turn out to be,” he said, seemingly in all seriousness.
She continued to poke fun at him, saying that when he became the nation’s leader he could buy something fancy for her, but for now she’d settle for “something for thirty-nine cents.”
“Shut-up,” he said.
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U
p to the middle of August, Lee was content to live off his unemployment compensation until it ran out, and he read one book after another from the Napoleon branch of the New Orleans Public Library, more on Kennedy than any other political leader, including Kennedy’s own
Profiles in Courage
, which he checked out with another book on July 15 and returned on July 29.
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But Lee, in his own mind, was a man on the move, one who appeared to look upon himself in a historical light. And this brief interlude of relative calm would soon give way to something he began to mull over in his mind, a darker plan that he was not yet ready to broach to Marina.
But before then, Lee enjoyed a small triumph of sorts. Aunt Lillian’s son Eugene, who was studying at a seminary, the Jesuit House of Study in Mobile, Alabama, was interested in Lee’s experience in the Soviet Union, and he wrote to invite Lee to come and discuss it with some of his fellow seminarians and the faculty. Lee couldn’t have managed the trip on his own, but Lillian and Dutz offered to drive him, Marina, and June there and back. The Murrets’ daughter, Joyce, and her two children went along for the ride. Though they would only be gone a day, Marina was excited by the trip, referring to it as a “small vacation.” And their route lay along Mississippi’s Gulf Coast, which she had been eager to see. They set out for Mobile, Alabama, on Saturday morning, July 27, for Lee’s talk that night. En route, Lillian suggested that Lee make some notes, map out his thoughts, so he wouldn’t be too nervous, but he airily dismissed the suggestion. “Don’t worry about me,” he said, “I give talks all the time.”
At the event, he spoke well without notes. Women were not allowed in the seminary, so Marina and the Murrets stayed outside and visited the chapel. One of the seminarians who was studying Russian and spoke it rather well came out and chatted for an hour with Marina, while Lee spoke with the small gathering inside. He outlined his experiences in the USSR for about half an hour and then fielded questions. He liked the Soviet social programs, particularly their universal health system, he told his audience, adding, however, that although he wasn’t completely happy in the United States, living in the United States was better than living in Russia. But overall, he said, “capitalism doesn’t work. Communism doesn’t work.” He said he was a Marxist and was disillusioned with the Soviet brand of communism, noting that the people were “dominated by roughnecks.” But he spoke highly of the Russian people themselves, saying they were “naturally very moral, honest, faithful in marriage.”
In spite of the fact that he made it fairly clear that he was not religious, Oswald, neatly dressed in a sport shirt and slacks, made a rather good impression. The two priests in attendance assumed that he had a college degree, and one later told Lee’s cousin Joyce that Lee’s criticism of stock speculation (which a professor at the school had likened to a form of gambling, a sin in the Catholic Church) and exploitation of the working class under capitalism were not that far off base, since Catholic popes had often addressed the same issues. After Lee’s appearance at the seminary, they spent the night at the Palms Motel in Mobile, at Dutz Murret’s expense, and drove back to New Orleans the next day.
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A couple of days later, Lee received more encouragement: a letter from someone he considered extremely important—Arnold Johnson, director of the Information and Lecture Bureau of the American Communist Party, in response to the letter Lee had written to the
Worker
in early June. Johnson noted that “it is good to know that movements in support of Fair Play for Cuba [have] developed in New Orleans as well as in other cities. We do not have any organizational ties with the [Fair Play for Cuba] Committee, and yet there’s much material we issue from time to time that is important for anybody who is concerned about developments in Cuba.” He added that he was sending some literature under separate cover.
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The letter could hardly have been more brief or almost form letter–like, but to Oswald it was proof of his own importance. He told Marina, when she made fun of his pretensions, that Arnold Johnson was a “great man,” the “Lenin of our country” whose letter was proof that others valued Lee’s activities on behalf of Castro and the Cuban Revolution.
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Encouraged by the response, however belated, by Johnson, Lee wrote once again in the first days of August (the letter is dated August 1 but postmarked August 4) to Vincent Lee at the Fair Play for Cuba Committee in New York. He had written to Lee earlier, around the same time he had written to the
Worker,
but received no reply from Vincent Lee authorizing him to open a branch in New Orleans. Now he wrote,
Dear Mr. Lee
In regards to my efforts to start a branch [office of] FPCC in New Orleans. I rented an office as I planned and was promply closed three days later for some obsure [obscure] reason by the renters, they said something about remodeling, ect., I’m sure you understand. After that I worked out of a post office box and by useing street demonstrations and some circular work have substained a great deal of interest but no new members. Through the efforts of some Cuban-evial [exile] “gusanos” a street demonstration was attacked and we were officialy cautioned by police.
This incident robbed me of what support I had leaving me alone. Nevertheless thousands of circulars were distrubed and many, many pamplets which your office supplied. We also manged [managed] to picket the fleet when it came in and I was surprised at the number of officers who were interested in our literature. I continued to recive through my post office box inquires and questions which I shall endeavor to keep ansewering to the best of my ability.
Thank you
Lee H. Oswald
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*
The remarkable thing about this letter is not that virtually none of it was true—Oswald had not rented an office nor had he been attacked by
gusanos
(“worms,” Cuban slang for counterrevolutionaries)—but that on August 5, the day after he mailed it, he took steps to make it become true. He walked into Casa Roca, a clothing store run by Carlos Bringuier, a real
gusano
. Bringuier, a slender, light-skinned Cuban lawyer who had emigrated after the revolution, first to Argentina and then to the United States, was the New Orleans delegate of the Miami-based counterrevolutionary organization called the Cuban Student Directorate (CSD).
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His brother, Juan Felipe, had been a member of Brigade 2506, the anti-Castro rebel force that landed on the beach in the CIA-sponsored Bay of Pigs invasion of Cuba in April of 1961.
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Oswald may have been inspired by front-page headline stories on the discovery of bomb material in New Orleans that appeared in the New Orleans
Times-Picayune
on August 1 and 2. On July 31, the FBI had seized more than a ton of dynamite and twenty 100-pound bomb casings three feet long at a cottage on Lake Pontchartrain in St. Tammany’s Parish, and the cottage had been linked to the anti-Castro movement. That there were Cuban exiles in New Orleans was no secret—the city boasted the second largest concentration of them after Miami, a fact that could not have escaped Oswald’s attention—but there had been little indication that raids against the island were being prepared in New Orleans. The news stories may have induced Lee’s venture into freelance undercover work. In any case, he was not merely shopping for clothes. He had called a New Orleans newspaper to get information as to the whereabouts of exile organizations and had been given the address of Bringuier’s store at 107 Decatur Street and three others he noted in his address book. He already knew when he walked in that Bringuier was associated with the CSD.
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Bringuier was in the store with his brother-in-law, Rolando Pelaez, and was engaged in conversation with a couple of American ninth graders named Philip Geraci and Vance Blalock. Geraci had known Bringuier for some time and had even raised about ten dollars for the CSD, but Bringuier told him he was much too young to join the fight against Castro. Bringuier would provide him with anti-Castro literature if he wanted to distribute it, but the best way he could help the struggle against Castro, he told the youth, was to listen to his parents and study hard. Oswald, having looked over several items on sale in the store, joined in the conversation and gave the impression that he too was enthusiastic about the underground war against Castro. Bringuier gave him some of the CSD literature printed in English.
“Is this the Cuban exile headquarters?” Oswald asked Bringuier. Bringuier said it wasn’t, but that he was a part of the anti-Castro movement. Oswald told Bringuier that he had been a marine and had training in guerilla warfare. He would not only be willing to train Cubans to fight against Castro, he was ready to go along on a raid. He even offered to make a cash donation to the CSD, but Bringuier would not take his money, giving him instead the address of the national association in Miami.
Bringuier’s brother-in-law was impressed by Lee; Bringuier was not. He was suspicious. Oswald could be a pro-Castro agent or an FBI agent. Ever since the CSD had shelled Havana without CIA authorization about a year before, Bringuier feared an attempt by the authorities to infiltrate the organization. Someone, after all, must have tipped off the bureau about those bomb materials in St. Tammany’s Parish, a cache that Bringuier himself did not know about until the
Times-Picayune
article. He told Oswald that he had nothing to do with any military activities against Castro, that he was only involved in propaganda and information. Oswald insisted that he wanted to make himself useful and said he would bring Bringuier the Marine Corps manual for enlisted men the next day.
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Young Geraci and Blalock were also impressed with Oswald, who told them how to blow up the Huey P. Long Bridge, derail a train, and construct a zip gun—pretty heavy stuff for high school kids.
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As Oswald was making his crude foray into undercover work, the FBI, his bête noir, was on his trail again, although Lee had no inkling of that fact. That same day, August 5, 1963, the FBI’s New Orleans office, by means of an interview of Oswald’s landlady, confirmed the fact that he was now residing in the city at 4907 Magazine Street.
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*
Also on that day, the consulate section of the Soviet embassy in Washington wrote to Marina to inform her that her “request to enter the Soviet Union for permanent residence” had been “forwarded to Moscow for processing.”
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The next day, August 6, Oswald returned to Casa Roca. Bringuier wasn’t there, but Oswald left his copy of the
Guidebook for Marines
with Pelaez. The name “L. H. Oswald” was written on the first page.
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On August 7, Lee brought Marina good news: Jackie Kennedy had given birth to a boy, Patrick. He broke the rest of the news gently since it was bound to be disturbing to Marina: there were problems with the Kennedys’ baby—he had to be rushed to a special hospital. Lee was sure, though, that the doctors would be able to save the newborn’s life. The next day, Lee listened to the news bulletins on the radio, and Marina, who recognized the name “Kennedy” when she heard it, anxiously asked him for the latest news. It was not good, but it was not until later that he told Marina that the doctors held little hope for Patrick.
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Marina probably had something else on her mind. As indicated, even at this late stage of her pregnancy, she had not seen a doctor. Ruth Paine had written the previous month that she had found a hospital in the Dallas–Fort Worth area that could handle a childbirth for only $225.00—certainly a reasonable cost, except that it was $22.25 more than Lee’s entire net worth at the moment. When looked at from that perspective, the cost was prohibitive. Lee had $202.75 in cash on hand at the end of July, and rent and other expenses would have to come out of that.
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Ruth had gone on to emphasize, in a section of the letter in English and addressed to Lee, the importance of prenatal care and of the medical records Marina should bring with her when she came to Dallas. “Major difficulty,” Ruth had written, “can be avoided if the early warning signs available in the urine analysis and blood count are watched for.” She went on to mention the dire results of toxemia and eclampsia.
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Marina was very worried, and told Lee, but Lee said, “No, no, you’re not to worry. You’ll be taken care of. Once you’re in the hospital, the doctors don’t care whose baby it is. They do the same for everyone. I’ll borrow money. I promise you, you’ll never be thrown out of the hospital.”
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