Clara Fraser 1981

On His Majesty’s Secret Service


Source: Fraser, C. (1998). "On His Majesty’s Secret Service" in Revolution, She Wrote (pp. 155-157). Seattle, WA: Red Letter Press.
First Published: Freedom Socialist, Fall 1981
Transcription/Markup: Philip Davis and Glenn Kirkindall
Copyleft: Internet Archive (marxists.org) 2015. Permission is granted to copy and/or distribute this document under the terms of the GNU Free Documentation License.


My first encounter with the federal spy boys was during the Boeing strike of 1948.

I was down on my hands and knees scrubbing the living room linoleum. We lived in a housing project graced by the architectural style of Early Chicken Coop, and the front door was wide open because closing it was a near impossibility.

A stranger appeared in the doorway. "Hello, Clara," he said

"Hi."

"I'm from the Federal Bureau of Investigation," he announced. "I'd like to talk to you about the strike. We thought that you, a strike leader, might know about the violence."

I sat back on my haunches. "Go away," I said.

"Now, Clara," he said. I glared. He turned and left.

About 20 years later, when I worked for the anti-poverty program and was deeply involved with the Black community, two FBI agents appeared on my doorstep. This time I was cooking dinner and had a pot in one hand as I opened the door.

"Good evening, Mrs. Fraser." Not so chummy this time. "We are Federal Bureau of Investigation agents. We want to talk to you about the recent bombings."

"I don't talk to the FBI," I said, and closed the door.

Yes, I've had quite a few strange encounters with the political police. So I know how my colleague Su Bondurant felt when she was besieged on the night of October 17 by two pompous minions of King Ronnie's palace guard.

Su was part of a national delegation of Radical Women and FSPers at the All People's Congress in Detroit's Cobo Hall. Su was the assigned note-taker for the delegation. Her notes were written on a tablet which she carried in a jeanbag.

On Saturday evening, she left her jeanbag in her hotel room and went out to dinner. She and three other delegates returned to her room after 1 a.m.

The phone rang twice. Mary answered and the party hung up. Within minutes, there came a knock on the door and a voice said, "Susan!"

She opened the door. Two men in navy blue jackets stood in the dark hallway.

"We're from the Secret Service," they said, flashing some kind of identification. "Are you Susan?"

"Yes." Mary and Laurie were now at the door, too.

"Didn't you lose something, Susan?" Su said no.

"Can we come in and talk to you?" Su said no.

"Will you come to the lobby and talk?" Su closed the door.

"Don't you want to see what we've got, Susan? We just want you to identify it."

Su opened the door. The agent was holding up her notes.

"Are these yours? They were in the lobby."

"Yes, they are mine!"

"Now will you come and talk to us, Susan?"

Again Su said no. Replied one agent, "Toodles!" — which is a word used by nobody except Laurie and which means Goodbye! And the estimable gents left — with Su's notes.

It took a little while for the shock to subside. Then an angry Su called the Secret Service at 2 am. and demanded the return of her notes. Agent Ball said he'd find out about it.

Su called Ball again early Sunday morning. He said agent Brush would call her. "I want my stuff back now," Su said.

"You've stolen it."

"You've been watching too much TV," said Ball.

Agent Brush finally called. He wouldn't return the papers because Su had "slammed the door" in his face. The poor misunderstood gumshoe was shocked by such an unladylike breach of etiquette. Su would have to come down on Monday and talk to them to get her papers back.

"But I'll be out of town on Monday," she protested

"Then get a lawyer when you return to Seattle." Su had never mentioned Seattle as her hometown.

Attorney William Sacks, representing the Steering Committee of the All People's Congress, called the SS and spoke with Agent Brush later that afternoon. Brush now claimed the papers were found in a restaurant. Asked how he had identified and located the owner of the tablet, since Su's name was not on it, he replied that he was a "good investigator." He agreed to return the papers, but only to a lawyer, and not before Monday.

On Monday, attorney and friend George Washington of Detroit retrieved the papers and mailed them to Su.

Why had Brush commandeered the papers? Because, he said, Su had written down the words, "Tell Pharoah Reagan to let our people go or face the consequences of the Red Sea" — a direct quote from a conference speaker!

Would you believe this political parable, to the witchhunting mind of the SS, constituted a "threat against the President" which had to be investigated? That's what Brush said.

Violations of privacy and free speech. Illegal surveillance. Unwarranted search, seizure and theft of personal property. Deceit, secrecy, harassment and intimidation. Add it all up and you've got government crime — plus the added sin of rank idiocy.

I don't know about the Red Sea, but I'm curious about the Potomac ... Now who could that be knocking on my door?