Saturday, December 13, 2014



With water turned off, and enthralled with what Clair and I did as creative problem solvers, Alan wanted to develop us into a worldwide private intelligence company.  

To this end, I created the fictional Chatham-Brooke & Company.

This mysterious entity sent invitations to all of our spooky subcontractors to attend its “175th Annual Christmas Party” at DeCarlo’s restaurant in northwest Washington on December 15th, 1997.

I wrote a speech for Clair to read aloud explaining Chatham-Brooke:

As most of you know, Chatham-Brooke & Company was founded in 1822 in New Haven, Connecticut, by Arthur Chatham III and Trevor Brooke.  

Ten years later, it facilitated the Russell Trust Association, which gave birth to Skull & Bones at Yale University.  

It was a tradition for a hundred years thereafter to recruit Bonesmen as associates.

During the Civil War, Trevor Brooke advised President Lincoln on intelligence matters.  Indeed, it was a Chatham-Brooke associate, Al Pinkerton, who was seconded to the White House.  The publicity prone Pinkerton moved on to form the not so Secret Service.

Henry Chatham, Arthur’s favorite nephew, shepherded Chatham-Brooke into the 20th century.  By then, the company had moved to New York City, and kept space beneath J.P. Morgan on Wall Street.  

They did not have pagers in those days.  When J.P. needed to know something, he wrapped his ebony cane on the hardwood floor, and Henry would scoot upstairs to satiate the financier’s thirst for information on whatever Bernard Baruch was doing.

In 1917, when Woodrow Wilson waffled over joining World War I, it was Henry who forged the Zimmerman Telegram that pushed Wilson over the edge.  The true story about that episode has never been told.  

But I’ll tell you this:  When Secretary of War Henry Stimson said, “Gentlemen don’t read other gentlemen’s mail,” it was our own Henry Chatham who replied, “Pishaw.”

I’m pleased to say that, during the 1930s, Chatham-Brooke shed its establishment roots to challenge those within the foreign policy elite who appeased Hitler.  

When William Stephenson, the so-called Intrepid, arrived in New York City on behalf of British Intelligence to strategize a U.S. entry into World War II, the first call he made was to Henry Chatham, Jr.  

Later, John J. McCloy would not so much as blow his nose without checking first with Junior.

At the start of the Cold War, after dear junior passed on, Chatham-Brooke moved to Washington DC.  For the first time, our company is run by neither a Chatham nor a Brooke.

We are here today to pay homage to our illustrious founders, who continue to inspire us, and to thank you all for your contributions.

One of the former CIA officers who attended did not even know that I, the person who sub-contracted him, worked with Clair George.  He was thrilled to see his old boss again.

Later, when Clair and I were named in a lawsuit against The Circus, Alan got frightened and cooperated with the plaintiff for fear of being named himself.

Clair cracked, “The man who wanted to create the world’s biggest private intelligence company runs for cover the first time a lawyer says boo!”

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