There was another option as well. If, in fact, a former Marine had become so deeply displeased with the capitalist system that he defected, then this might serve to demonstrate that life in America was not as agreeable as the U.S. media suggested. Since there was a special department for propaganda in Moscow Center, they too would have made an evaluation and that would have gone to the top of the Central Committee, up to Mikoyan.
Nonetheless, General Marov insisted that any differences between Counterintelligence and KGB’s Propaganda Department would have been resolved without conflict. “The aim is to have an understanding. If two Generals sit together, we tend not to speak officially. One says, ‘Look, what are we going to do with this guy Oswald?’ ‘Well, he’s a mess.’ ‘Okay, agreed. Now, do we ship him back, or do we let him stay?—whichever we agree upon.’ And, of course, we knew of Mikoyan’s desire to keep him. That was a huge factor.”
The proposition would have been seen as follows: On the side of taking him as a political immigrant for propaganda purposes, General Marov now said, in English: “Positive is that this young man has come to the paradise of working toilers, etcetera. But on our negative side—very hot coal in one’s hand—very hot. Where do you throw it? You have to give him money, and some job, you have to watch him constantly, defend him from curious people. You have to decide whether he could become a source of future counterpropaganda against our Soviet Union because, of course, he could always go up to some Embassy or newspaper and start to tell stories about how bad it is in our provinces.”
On the other hand, if you had to send him back to the States, that would also be negative. “After all, why did our country reject him? Our call in those years, successful or not, was to try to be very human, even in a high sense of the word. Under the circumstances, Minsk proved our viable compromise.” Marov shrugged. His favorite proverb, after all, would tell you that “When a child has seven baby-sitters, it will lose an eye.”
So Oswald was put in a bell-jar. His actions were studied, and the Organs knew their own kind of frustration when he proved to be a poor worker. If he had accommodated himself to the radio plant, their own activities could have focused on interesting alternatives: Either Oswald was sincere, or he was skillful enough to pretend to be sincere. Instead, he put his feet on the table.
We ought to know Oswald well enough by now to understand how demoralized he was by working in a radio factory. To labor collectively was the essence of anonymity. The finished product had more importance than his own person. He had not voyaged from the Marine Corps to the Soviet Union in order to become anonymous. If to work with no enthusiasm would attract more attention, then, indeed, he would put his feet on the table. He wishes to make his mark and keep making it. So, he dramatizes his presence by going to sleep.
The House Select Committee on Assassinations would later say of Oswald, “His return to the United States publicly testified to the utter failure of what had been the most important act of his life,”1 but it is more likely that Oswald would still have been seeing himself as important in the scheme of things. Who else had manipulated the bureaucracies of the U.S. and the USSR to so much effect? He had done it, in fact, even better than he knew, for more than a few analysts in CIA believed it had all been stage-managed by Moscow Center because it would have been impossible for him to bring it off all by himself. It is staggering to recognize how mutually paranoid a view each superpower had in those days of the other. We can rely on this paranoia to affect a few actions in and around Oswald’s life on his return to America.
But slowly. It happened slowly. CIA was as subtle, restrained, and as full of cautionary nuance as KGB when it came to dealing with their breakaway American.
Of course, that can hardly be said for Lee’s mother, Marguerite Oswald.
9
Maternity House
Let us go back once again to April 1960, after Oswald had been in the Soviet Union no more than six months. At that time, the FBI agent John W. Fain was making his early inquiries in Texas:
. . . Mrs. OSWALD stated that she was very much shocked and surprised to learn later that he had gone to Moscow, Russia. She stated that she had no idea how he arrived there but that she does know he had saved up about $1600 from his services in the U.S. Marine Corps. She stated that he did not previously discuss with her any intention to go to Moscow, Russia. She also stated that he had never shown any proclivities for the ideologies of communism [but] subject was always a studious type of individual and that he read books that were considered “deep.” [While Mrs. Oswald] felt that subject had a right as an individual to make his own decisions, however, she stated that she was very greatly surprised and disappointed that he had taken this action [and] since January 22, 1960, she had sent three different letters to her son but that all had been returned to her undelivered. She stated that she feared that he might have become stranded and in danger [so] she has had correspondence with her Congressman and with the U.S. State Department inasmuch as she has been very much alarmed for fear that something might have happened to subject.1
Indeed, a month before John Fain had come by to interview her, she had begun efforts to find out what had happened to Lee. She had written to her Texas congressman, Jim Wright, on March 6, 1960, and a day later to Christian Herter of the State Department:
Dear Sir:
In October 1959 my son (age 20 years) Lee Harvey Oswald (serial no. 1653230) went to Moscow, Russia, three days after his discharge from the Marine Corps . . .
I am very much concerned because I have no contact whatsoever with him now . . .
I am writing to you because I am under the impression that Lee is probably stranded and even if he now realizes he has made a mistake he would have no way of financing his way home. He probably needs help.
I also realize that my son might like Russia. That he might be working and be quite content. In that case, feeling very strongly that he has a right as an individual to make his own decisions, I would in no way want to hinder or influence him in any way.
If it is at all possible to give me any information concerning my son, I would indeed be very grateful.
Thanking you in advance for your kindness in this matter.
I remain
Sincerely,
Mrs. Marguerite Oswald2
Confidential memos will go back and forth between State and the American Embassy in Moscow discussing whether the Embassy is in a position to find out from the Soviets where Oswald is located, but the inquiry falls between the cracks.
Bureaucracy is the only form of human organization that can manage to pass a hot potato through a small crack. Ten and one half months will go by before State will hear from Marguerite Oswald again. That lady, however, has been gathering her forces. The next time they hear from her, she is on their doorstep. At the Warren Commission hearings, she will recall the occasion clearly:
MARGUERITE OSWALD. . . . I arrived at Washington 8 o’clock in the morning. I took a train and borrowed money on an insurance policy I have, [plus] I had a bank account of $36, which I drew out and bought a pair of shoes. I have all that in proof, sir, the date that I left for the train. I was 3 days and 2 nights on the train, or 2 days and 3 nights. Anyhow, I took a coach and sat up.
I arrived at the station 8 o’clock in the morning and I called the White House. A Negro man was on the switchboard, and he said the offices were not open yet, they did not open until 9 o’clock. He asked if I would leave my number. I asked to speak to the President. And he said the offices were not open yet. I said, “Well, I have just arrived here from Fort Worth, Texas, and I will call back at 9 o’clock.”
So I called back at 9 o’clock. Everybody was just gracious to me over the phone. Said that President Kennedy was in a conference, and they would be happy to take any message. I asked to speak with Secretary Rusk and they connected me with that office. And his young lady said he was in a conference, but anything she could do for me. I said, “Yes, I have come to town about a son of mine who is lo
st in Russia. I do want to speak—I would like personally to speak to Secretary Rusk.” So she got off the line a few minutes. Whether she gave him the message or what I do not know. She came back and said, “Mrs. Oswald, Mr. Rusk [said] that you talk to Mr. Boster who is special officer in charge of Soviet Union affairs,”—if I am correct. And Mr. Boster was on the line. I told him who I was. He said, “Yes, I am familiar with the case, Mrs. Oswald.” He said, “Will an 11 o’clock appointment be all right with you?” This is 9 o’clock in the morning. So I said—this is quite an interesting story—I said, “Mr. Boster, that would be fine. But I would rather not talk with you.” I didn’t know who Mr. Boster was. I said, “I would rather talk with Secretary of State Rusk. However, if I am unsuccessful in talking with him, then I will keep my appointment with you.”
So I asked Mr. Boster—I said, “Mr. Boster, would you please recommend a hotel that would be reasonable?” He said, “I don’t know how reasonable, Mrs. Oswald, but I recommend the Washington Hotel. It will be near the State Department and convenient to you.”
So I went to the Washington Hotel. [And] they asked me if I had a reservation. I said, “No, I didn’t but Mr. Boster of the State Department recommended that I come here.” So they fixed me up with a room. I took a bath and dressed. I went to the appointment [and] arrived at Mr. Boster’s office at 10:30.
But before arriving at Mr. Boster’s office, I stopped at a telephone in the corridor and I called Dean Rusk’s office again because I didn’t want to see Mr. Boster, and I asked to speak to Dean Rusk. And the young lady said, “Mrs. Oswald, talk to Mr. Boster. At least it is a start.”
So then I entered around the corridor into Mr. Boster’s office [and he] came out and said, “Mrs. Oswald, I am awfully glad you came early because we are going to have a terrible snow storm and we have orders to leave early in order to get home.”
So he called [in two other men and] we were in conference. So I showed the papers like I am showing here. And I said, “Now, I know you are not going to answer me, gentlemen, but I am under the impression that my son is an agent.” “Do you mean a Russian agent?” I said, “No, working for our Government, a U.S. agent. And I want to say this: That if he is, I don’t appreciate it too much, because I am destitute, and just getting over a sickness,” on that order.
I had the audacity to say that. I had gone through all of this without medical, without money, without compensation. I am a desperate woman. So I said that.
MR. RANKIN. What did they say to you?
MARGUERITE OSWALD. They did not answer that. I even said to them, “No, you won’t tell me.” So I didn’t expect them to answer that.
THE CHAIRMAN. Did you mean that you were seeking money from them?
MARGUERITE OSWALD. No, sir . . . What I was saying was that I think that my son should be home with me, is really what I implied [but] I didn’t come out and say I want my son home. I implied that if he was an agent, that I thought he needed to be home.
MR. RANKIN. Did you say anything about believing your son might know full well what he was doing in trying to defect to the Soviet Union, he might like it better there than he did here?
MARGUERITE OSWALD. I do not remember saying this . . . I said—because I remember this distinctly. I said, “Now, he has been exploited all through the paper as a defector. If he is a defector”—because, as we stated before, I don’t know he is an agent, sir—“and if he is a defector, that is his privilege as an individual.”
And they said, “Mrs. Oswald, we want you to know that we feel the same way about it.” That was their answer.3
Still, Marguerite was not about to give up the more interesting alternative. A little later on that day in 1964 when she testified before the Warren Commission about events early in 1961, she would add:
MARGUERITE OSWALD. . . . On January 21 was my trip to Washington, 1961. Approximately 8 weeks later, on March 22, 1961, I received a letter from the State Department informing me . . . that my son wishes to return back to the United States—just 8 weeks after my trip to Washington.
Now, you want to know why I think my son is an agent. And I have been telling you all along.
Here is a very important thing why my son was an agent . . . . On April 30, 1961, he marries a Russian girl—approximately 5 weeks later.
Now, why does a man who wants to come back to the United States, [only] 5 weeks later [decide to] marry a Russian girl? Because I say—and I may be wrong—the U.S. Embassy has ordered him to marry this Russian girl . . . .
MR. RANKIN. Now, was there any time that Marina said anything to you to lead you to believe that she thought your son, Lee, married her because he was an agent?
MARGUERITE OSWALD. No, sir, no, sir. Not at any time at all.
MR. RANKIN. You think she loved him?
MARGUERITE OSWALD. I believe that Marina loved him in a way. But I believe that Marina wanted to come to America. I believe that Lee had talked America to her, and she wanted to come . . .
MR. RANKIN. I am not clear about this being ordered to marry her. You don’t mean that your son didn’t love her.
MARGUERITE OSWALD. Well, I could mean that—if he is an agent, and he has a girl friend, and it is to the benefit of the country that he marry this girl friend, and the Embassy helped him get this Russian girl out of Russia—let’s face it, well, whether he loved her or not, he would take her to America if that would give him contact with Russians, yes, sir.
MR. RANKIN. Is that what you mean?
MARGUERITE OSWALD. I would say that.
MR. RANKIN. And you don’t think it was because your son loved her, then?
MARGUERITE OSWALD. I do not know whether my son loved her or not. But I am telling you why he would do this in five weeks’ time . . .
MR. RANKIN. . . . I think it is a very serious thing to say about your son, that he would do a thing like that to a girl.
MARGUERITE OSWALD. No, sir, it is not a serious thing. I know a little about the CIA and so on, the U-2, Powers, and things that have been made public. They go through any extreme for their country. I do not think that would be serious for him to marry a Russian girl and bring her here, so he would have contact. I think that is all part of an agent’s duty.
MR. RANKIN. You think your son was capable of doing that?
MARGUERITE OSWALD. Yes, sir, I think my son was an agent. I certainly do.4
PART II
CHARITY IN FORT WORTH
1
Honeymoon
Robert Oswald and his wife, Vada, had two children; Lee and Marina had June. Robert’s house was small. Marguerite Oswald, as we can recall, visited Lee and Marina on their second day home, and made an executive decision. She would give notice on her nursing job in Crowell, Texas, move to Fort Worth, rent an apartment, and Lee and Marina could live with her. In a matter of two or three weeks after Oswald’s return, he was, therefore, back in his mother’s domain. “Mr. Rankin,” she tells her interlocutor at the Warren Commission, “we had no quarrels. This month was beautiful. Marina was very happy.”
MARGUERITE OSWALD. . . . I had the car and the television and we went around.
As I say, they were free to come and go like they want. They would take long walks.
If you are not familiar with Fort Worth, Texas, from the Rotary Apartment to Leonard Brothers is approximately 3 miles, and they used to walk there, and they came home—Marina came home with a Cancan petticoat and some hose that Lee bought her with a few dollars that Robert and I had given him—he spent [it] on his wife.
So that was a very happy time . . .
MR. RANKIN. How did Marina treat you then?
MARGUERITE OSWALD. Fine. But then Marina was not satisfied with the things that I bought her.
As you see, the way I am properly dressed—I don’t say I mean to be the height of fashion, but I have—before becoming a nurse I was in the business world, and I have been a manager in the merchandise field. So I do know clothes.
And I bought her some shorts.
And she wanted short shorts, like the Americans . . .
And I bought her a little longer shorts.
And “I no like, Mama.”
I said, “Marina, you are a married woman and it is proper for you to have a little longer shorts than the younger girls.”
“No, Mama.”
And I will stress this—that Marina was never too happy—“No, Mama, no nice, no, Mama, no this.”
That was perfectly all right. I thought she didn’t understand our ways. I didn’t feel badly about it . . . 1
“I didn’t feel badly about it,” Marguerite says, and probably she is lying.
As described by others, including her sons John and Robert, Marguerite is characterized as unfeeling, self-centered, keyed on money, a virago when she does not get her way. All this is true, doubtless, for those she does not really love. When it comes to Lee, however, she is ready to travel down the loneliest aisles of her heart to encounter his rebuffs, his surprises, his betrayals: She helps to get him out of the Marines on a hardship discharge and he spends but one night with her before going to Russia, and all without warning. Yet she continues to love him with a full operatic passion equal to all the unutterable arias of those who are talentless at love, adores him as only a selfish woman who has lost out in various ways with three husbands can still love one child.
He, of course, whenever he returns to the stifling surround of a mother always ready to overtax his restricted capacity to love, is obliged to repel her. He and Marina stay with Marguerite for a few weeks; he finds work at a sheet-metal factory called Leslie Welding, where he earns $50 a week and, other than disbursements for can-can petticoats for Marina, spends nothing on rent or for food. Marguerite is taking care of his family from her savings. She cooks his favorite dishes. Marina will comment on how much Lee, a finicky eater, will gobble down when Marguerite cooks. Free rent, all the food you can eat . . . and an exorbitant demand for love. He saves one week’s pay, then another, and puts down a monthly rent of $59.50 in advance on a semi-detached little bungalow with a porch in a flat row of similar boxes on Mercedes Street, the leviathan warehouse of Montgomery Ward staring back at them from the end of the street. Then, he enlists Robert and moves out of Marguerite’s apartment with no warning to his mother. While Robert waits outside in his car and Marina looks bewildered, Lee and Marguerite have a passionate shouting match, after which Lee takes off, leaving Marguerite in the doorway like a dark-eyed heroine in a silent film. She does not know where he is going. She even runs after the car. But let us take up the continuation from Priscilla Johnson McMillan’s book Marina and Lee:
Oswald's Tale: An American Mystery Page 45
