Company Man: Thirty Years of Controversy and Crisis in the CIA (55 page)

I wrote every word of this book myself, and the large majority of it is dependent on my memory. In part, that was a matter of choice—I believe I have a good facility for recalling interesting and meaningful events and conversations I took part in during my long career. In equal part, however, relying on my memory was a matter of necessity. Pursuant to Executive Order 13292, only former presidential appointees are permitted to have access to classified government documents from their period of service in order to conduct historical research. If the Senate in 2007 had confirmed President Bush’s nomination of me to be the CIA’s general counsel, I would have been eligible to request such access to my classified CIA files to aid me in writing this book. Alas, my nomination cratered, so in putting this book together I had to turn to other means to assist me in refreshing or confirming my recollections of specific episodes down through the years.

In this regard, I greatly benefited from the willingness of a number of my former CIA colleagues—some now retired, others still working at the Agency—to answer my questions, swap memories with me, and steer me in the right direction. For various reasons, they all requested to remain anonymous, but they know who they are, and I want them to also know how grateful I am to them.

I also found that my own recollections of certain events, especially ones that happened years ago like Iran-contra and the Ames espionage case, were jogged and frequently buttressed by reading hundreds of contemporaneous media accounts and a dozen or so books written by both CIA insiders and outside journalists describing the events in question. It had been a very long time since I had done this nitty-gritty sort of research, which is why I am deeply indebted to the Hoover Institution at
Stanford University, which in early 2010 extended to me an appointment as Visiting Scholar to support the production of this memoir. Hoover’s role was indispensable to me throughout this process, and its help extended from research assistance to administrative and technical support, including generously giving me an office in its Washington, D.C., facility. In the D.C. office, I was given invaluable and ever-patient support over a three-year period by Sharon Ragland, Christie Parell, Amy Palguta, Tyler Hernandez, Michelle Ring, and Kara McKee. I also want to thank Peter Berkowitz, an intelligence scholar from the Hoover Policy Group, for helping make my Hoover appointment happen. Finally, I want to express my deep appreciation to Hoover president John Raisian and vice president David Brady for green-lighting the appointment, as well as my close friend Jack Goldsmith for starting the entire process. My association with the Hoover Institution has been an honor and a pleasure.

I owe a particular debt of gratitude to Bob Asahina, my collaborator on this book. Bob was involved from the very beginning, and I can state authoritatively that a major reason why any publishers were interested in a neophyte, noncelebrity author like me was that Bob’s name was attached to the project. Bob has a sterling reputation and track record in the publishing industry, both as a collaborator and editor. His expertise in shaping and refining the sweeping narrative arc of my thirty-four-year CIA career—what areas to emphasize, which ones would be of less interest to the reader—was unerring. Bob had no prior exposure in his career to the unique and sometimes bizarre world of spies, but his outsider’s perspective, easygoing demeanor, and keen editorial eye were godsends to me. Bob not only was my invaluable collaborator, but has become a trusted and lasting friend.

Bob Asahina was originally brought to my attention by Jay Mandel and Eric Lupfer, my literary agents at William Morris Endeavor in New York City. That is only one of the many reasons why I am so grateful to them. Jay and Eric took me on as a client in early 2010 when my memoir was nothing more than my own inchoate idea (or fantasy). I knew nothing about the world of literary agents, other than having a general sense that it was a very tough one for a first-time, non-household-name aspiring author to break into. Nonetheless, after one short phone conversation and before I had written a word, they took me under WME’s protective,
prestigious wing and have been nothing but wise and encouraging in shepherding me through the long and winding manuscript production and marketing process. I still don’t understand exactly what Jay and Eric originally saw in me, but I can’t thank them enough. In addition, I am very grateful to Erin Conroy in WME’s Los Angeles office, who somehow has managed to interest a major television studio in my story based solely on my bare-bones book proposal. Erin, shrewd yet infectiously optimistic and cheerful, thus successfully paved my even more unlikely path to at least the entry gates of Hollywood. Amazing.

I also had the supremely good fortune of having Scribner as my publisher. When I was first mulling the idea of writing a memoir, I talked to several journalist friends who were published authors to get their take on the pros and cons of embarking on such an endeavor. They all separately offered the same rueful piece of advice: even if a major publisher agrees to back your book (a decidedly iffy proposition at the time), don’t expect to get much hands-on attention from whoever is assigned as your editor. Today’s publishing industry is shrunken and strapped, they told me, and an individual editor in any given publishing house typically has to juggle dozens of manuscripts simultaneously. None of these editors, I was warned, would have the time or inclination to guide some rookie author like me through the editing process. It was the sort of unvarnished, candid advice I was looking for, but in my case, at least, it proved to be wildly off the mark. My editor at Scribner, Paul Whitlatch, could not have been more caring, patient, and attentive at every step along the way. He carefully and skillfully pored over every word of the manuscript, steadfastly championed my cause with his Scribner colleagues, and always made time for me either in person or by phone. A younger man than my own son, Paul’s savvy and sophisticated eye belies his years. I have been so lucky to have him on my side.