A Ferrie Tale by David T. Beddow

Author:David T. Beddow [Beddow, David T.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781480865358
Publisher: Archway Publishing
Published: 2019-04-30T04:00:00+00:00

Ferrie and Banister chatted at the Newman Building Monday morning. Ferrie described his basic take on Oswald. A bright but forever flawed young man, damaged by a rough upbringing. He’d emerged from adolescence with an urge to make a name for himself. And it really didn’t matter much to him how this happened. He just wants “to be somebody.” Maybe make a name for himself. He’d surely be willing to undertake criminal acts and, in the right circumstance, might even commit violence—after all, he sniped at General Walker.

Banister and Oswald were slated to lunch two hundred feet away at Mancuso’s, but Banister had offered to walk the half-block to Reily’s to greet Oswald and walk back with him to the restaurant. This offer wasn’t entirely selfless. Banister occasionally got some paying work from the Reily business folks and their patriarch, Eustis Reily. Eustis Reily was a Marcello guy. A rabid anti-Communist, he was an active member of the right-wing group started by Dr. Ochsner—INCA, the Information Council of the Americas. He was a hemispheric patriot.

Banister had given Monaghan a heads-up that he was coming to meet with Oswald. He went straight to Monaghan’s office. They chatted briefly about another matter. Monaghan then buzzed for Oswald.

“Remember, lunch around here is only a half hour,” Monaghan said to Banister and Oswald.

“Lee needs some extra lunch time today,” Banister said.

“Just for you, Guy, I can do forty-five minutes.”

“You’re a benevolent and wise ruler of the land, my liege.” Banister bowed.

Banister addressed Oswald. “Honored to meet you.”

They took a booth at Mancuso’s, ordered lunch, and had a lively forty-minute conversation. Banister walked Oswald back to Reily’s and then returned to the Newman Building and rejoined Ferrie.

“So?” Ferrie asked.

“I dealt with a lot of guys like that when I was in the FBI, they make good informants or plants. He’s a pseudo-intellectual, committed to fighting for a cause, though not really sure what the cause is. He was for the Commies, now he’s against the Commies. And the guy’s obviously socially challenged. He just stares at you half the time. His main goal seems to be to avoid being seen as a loser. He has the classic profile the FBI loves. Manipulable. Pliant. Sucker. A gull. Someone you can get to do things others won’t.”

“Exactly, exactly,” Ferrie said.

“We can probably find good uses for him. Here’s an idea I was thinking about while I was walking back from Reily. Get him known in town as a Commie. It’ll be pretty believable given his Russian adventure. We could maybe write a pro-Castro column for him for the Times-Picayune. Or, better yet, stage some kind of lefty demonstration that he leads. Have him piss people off—try to get him in the news.”

“And then?”

“We keep him in our back pocket for possible projects, like infiltrating Commie or pro-Castro groups. Jack Martin could help. Or something bigger might come along.”

“When we met out at Churchill Farms on the ‘JFK Affair,’ the first guy I thought of for the lone shooter was Oswald,” Ferrie blurted out.

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