The Patriot Threat (11 page)

He thought Andrew Mellon sounded a lot like his own father. A cold, practical, indifferent man focused on one thing. For Mellon it was making money. For his father? Unfettered, unrestricted, unlimited power—the ability to control, without question, the fates of tens of millions.

He had to admit, it was a potent aphrodisiac.

As was proving his father wrong.

He would enjoy the day when his half brother fell from grace, when the lackeys in military uniforms pleaded for him to lead. No confidence in him? He’d have them all shot. Because on that day he would have accomplished what no one inside North Korea had ever thought possible, including his father.

He was no paper tiger.

The mountains of North Korea were home to many tigers, their bodies brown with long black lines. Myth said that long ago a tiger and a bear wanted to become human. God told them to stay in a cave for a hundred days eating only garlic and mugwort. The bear stayed the required time and became a woman, but the tiger could not endure the wait and left, remaining a wild animal. Later the bear who became a woman married God’s son and gave birth to a son of her own, who became the founder of Korea.

Tigers were courageous, fearless, and majestic. Many North Koreans decorated their front gates with pictures of them. The top of a bride’s carriage was draped with a tiger blanket to protect the newlyweds from evil spirits. Women wore a decorative brooch with tiger claws to fend off bad spirits. Rich patriarchs once sat on pillows embroidered with tiger images.

Tigers meant power and courage.

If you talk about the tiger, the tiger will appear. And if you want to catch a tiger, you have to go to the tiger’s cave.

His mother taught him those wisdoms.

And he knew what she meant.

The word
tiger
stood for “adversary.” Or “challenge.” Or anything that seemed out of reach. What a wonderful woman. She’d loved him for who he truly was, unlike his father who wanted him to be something else. He’d spent a lifetime cultivating a worldly personality that seemed unfazed by politics. Few to none knew what he thought or who he was. For him causes would not be taken up with the apparent randomness his family liked to show. His words would not be laughed at or ignored. On its current path North Korea seemed doomed to end by either coup, revolution, or mere ineffectiveness.

He would break the cycle of ridicule and failure.

And be something the world would rightly fear.

SIXTEEN

W
ASHINGTON
, DC

Stephanie sat at the conference table, Harriett across from her, the hard copies of
The Patriot Threat
left them by the secretary of Treasury spread out before them.

“I’m going to have a long talk with our U.S. attorney in Alabama,” Harriett said. “He never mentioned that this fugitive was a writer.”

“And you never mentioned anything about Kim or that Treasury specifically wanted Cotton at that money transfer.”

“Which, as I’ve already said, was a big mistake on my part.”

“You have to realize your silence placed Cotton Malone in unnecessary danger.”

“Are you always so impertinent to your bosses?”

“Only when my people are on the line.”

Harriett smiled. “I assure you. I learned my lesson.”

It was approaching midnight in DC, which meant dawn would be coming to Italy soon. Luke had reported that Cotton wanted him back at 7:00
A.M.
The cruise ship debarkation could be their break.

She shuffled through the pages, the book’s introduction promising “amazing and startling revelations.” A quick glance at the table of contents revealed a few chapter titles. “Historical Non-Perspectives.” “Can the Courts Be That Stupid?” “A Warning to the IRS.” “Political Questions No One Wants to Answer.”

“This is some kind of tax evader’s manifesto,” she said. “Which makes sense, considering Howell’s criminal problems. But the copyright date is after his conviction. So he wrote this while a fugitive.”

Several spots were marked with paper clips. She found the first tagged section and read.

One of the mysteries of the 1920s was how Andrew Mellon managed to remain Secretary of the Treasury for nearly eleven years, through three different presidencies. One line of thought deals with the fact that Mellon was the first public official to actively engage the Internal Revenue Service as a weapon against political enemies. Audits were routinely conducted to harass opponents. Criminal charges were sometimes brought, as were civil trials in administrative tax courts, all designed to pressure Mellon’s enemies. Perhaps he was deft enough at retaliation that even presidents feared him. A modern-day analogy would be J. Edgar Hoover, who managed to retain control of the FBI through six administrations. Some say Hoover’s infamous secret files played a major role. Just as with Hoover, several investigations into Mellon’s activities ensued and there were even calls for his impeachment, but none ever materialized to anything substantive.

One story persists, though. Which may, more than anything else, explain Mellon’s longevity. In February 1913 Philander Knox was the outgoing Secretary of State. A month later a new president (Woodrow Wilson) would appoint his successor. In 1916, Knox was elected to the Senate from Pennsylvania. He was also a candidate for president in the 1920 election, but was defeated for the nomination at the Republican Party convention, eventually working hard to elect Warren Harding. Knox and Mellon were close friends, both from Pittsburgh, and it was Knox who urged Harding to appoint Mellon Secretary of Treasury. The incoming president, like most people in the country, had never heard of Mellon. To that point, he’d kept a low profile. Knox first described him to Harding as a “Pittsburgh banker, highly regarded in Pennsylvania” and active in providing large amounts of money for Harding’s election. Which may have been the only criterion that really mattered. Mellon was selected and took office in March 1921. Knox died in October 1921. Some say that, before his death, Knox passed a great secret on to Mellon and it was this secret that provided the real reason for his longevity.

“I’ve never heard this before,” Harriett said.

“Which means it could all be a figment of Howell’s imagination. I read the appellate court’s opinion on his conviction. His appointed trial lawyer tried to present some crazy arguments that the 16th Amendment was not legal. The secretary was right. Howell’s a wild conspiratorialist. He sees things that simply don’t exist.”

“I’m beginning to wonder just exactly what does exist.”

Stephanie agreed.

So they kept reading.

A fair question would be: Why would Philander Knox give Andrew Mellon anything that might be harmful to the United States? Something that Mellon could use to his political advantage. By all accounts, Knox was a lifelong patriot. He served in three presidents’ cabinets, twice as Attorney General (for McKinley and Theodore Roosevelt) and once as Secretary of State (for Taft). Three times he was chosen to serve in the United States Senate from Pennsylvania. By anyone’s measure that kind of career would be termed a great success. But to Knox it proved not enough. He was a wildly ambitious man who coveted being president.

Unfortunately, as one contemporary described, “He wants to soar like an eagle, but has the wings of a sparrow.” He was generally regarded as intellectually brilliant, but his incisive tongue and pompous attitude made him few friends. Another contemporary said, “He served with distinction, but achieved none.” His reputation was mainly confined to Pittsburgh, where he was a favorite among that city’s rich elite. Men like Andrew Carnegie, Henry Frick, and Mellon himself regarded him as a friend. President Harding shunned him for selection to his new Republican cabinet in March 1921, which Knox openly resented. He continued, though, to serve in the Senate, representing Pennsylvania for another seven months before dying.

“It seems politics then was not so different than now,” Harriett said. “The Senate is still filled with people who want to be president.”

“You included?”

“I was the exception. I just wanted to be attorney general.”

“Why this job?”

Her boss shrugged. “My time in the Senate was over, and I wanted to have some say in who succeeded me, so moving over here for the last year of my career seemed like a good idea. It gave the governor an appointment to fill my unexpired term. Luckily he listened to me and chose the right person.”

“But you’ll serve here only a short time.”

Harriett smiled. “Not necessarily. Maybe I’ll be like Knox and Mellon and another president will keep me on.”

Stephanie smiled, and they returned their attention to the manuscript.

Mellon himself never spoke or wrote about how he retained his cabinet position for so long, but after his death a few of his associates speculated. They told the story of how the National Gallery was created, with Mellon donating both the millions for the building and his massive art collection (worth many more millions). Roosevelt hated Mellon and was not happy about having to accept the charitable gift, but the president had no choice. To refuse would have seemed petty and foolish, two things Roosevelt could never afford to be publicly. Decades after Mellon’s death, some of his associates finally began to whisper things Mellon had used to maximum political advantage.

By November 1936 Mellon knew he was dying. On New Year’s Eve 1936 he met with Roosevelt at the White House. His closest friend, David Finley, accompanied him. Finley would later become the first curator of the National Gallery of Art and the founding chairman for the National Trust for Historic Preservation. We know from Finley that the president and Mellon spoke privately for about fifteen minutes. Finley wrote in his diary that Mellon left that meeting in “an exuberance that I had never before seen upon the man.” When queried, his mentor said, “I gave the president a note that I drafted. He crumpled it up and threw it across the room. But it will be interesting to see what he ultimately does with it.” Finley tried to learn more, but Mellon remained cryptic. “It’s something to occupy him. In the end he’ll find what I left. He’ll not be able to keep himself from looking, and all will be right. The secrets will be safe and my point will have been made. For no matter how much he hates and disagrees with me, he still will have done precisely what I asked.”

“Finley became a Washington icon,” Harriett said, “the father of the historic preservation movement. He was the one who fought to save Europe’s treasures after World War II. The Monument Men were his creation.”

She knew of Finley’s reputation. Credible and trustworthy. Not a fanatic in any way. Which gave Howell’s account even more importance.

They kept reading the marked passages.

Finley and Mellon were especially close. They worked together at the Treasury Department. In 1924 Finley ghost-wrote
Taxation: The People’s Business
for Mellon, which spelled out the then Secretary of Treasury’s position on taxes. The book was immensely popular. By 1927 Finley had become Mellon’s closest associate, penning his speeches, helping write official Treasury policy, and assisting with Mellon’s private art collection. Mellon died in 1937, just as construction on the National Gallery began. The museum opened in 1941, with Finley in charge. Books written by people close to the National Gallery have acknowledged that, even from the grave, Mellon directed a great many details. Finley, remaining loyal, did exactly as Mellon had requested.

“What in the world,” Harriett said. “It’s like an Oliver Stone movie.”

She smiled. “And just as short on proof. Lots of vague references to unnamed sources. But I’m not surprised. I’ve come across things far stranger than this that proved to be true. So I’ve learned to keep an open mind.”

“Is that another lesson I should learn, too?”

“It’s just that you’ve been in this job only a short while. I’ve dealt with some unique stuff over the years. So the fact that a former secretary of Treasury may have corralled FDR into doing his personal bidding is not all that strange.”

They found the final flagged portion.

Little is known as to what happened after that meeting on New Year’s Eve 1936. If FDR paid attention to anything Mellon said, there is no record of it that can be found. There is evidence, though, of an internal Treasury Department investigation that occurred in early 1937. Documents I obtained through several Freedom of Information requests contain references to that inquiry, ordered by FDR himself. Unfortunately, documents were withheld from my request (noted as classified) and some that were provided came heavily redacted. What could be so sensitive that so many decades later it must still be kept secret? From the few references that have survived, we know that Roosevelt became concerned about the 1935 redesign of the dollar bill and wanted to know if Mellon had played any part in that process. Unfortunately, no documents that I have been able to obtain can answer that question. Mellon died in August 1937, and Roosevelt’s attention focused on ending the Depression and the growing turmoil in Europe. There is no evidence of Roosevelt concerning himself again with Andrew Mellon.

One comment, though, did survive. Not by Roosevelt, but by David Finley. In his private diary, published in the 1970s, Finley recounted his last conversation with Mellon, just days before his mentor’s death. Finley accompanied Mellon on a drive from Mellon’s Washington apartment to Union Station. From there, a train would take Mellon north to Long Island and his daughter’s residence. He planned on spending a few weeks there refreshing himself. Unfortunately, that’s where he died. As they passed the Federal Triangle and the site where construction on the National Gallery had begun:

We talked of the 1920s and our days at Treasury. He was so proud of his public service. He’d shepherded America into great prosperity. The Depression was still not his fault. “It should never have happened,” he said again. “If Hoover had only listened.” We gazed out at the foundation work for the National Gallery. Though I did not know it at the time, that would be his last look at his creation. He spoke of New Year’s Eve a few months earlier and our visit with the president. I asked if anything had ever come of that balled-up piece of paper. He shook his head and told me that the secrets remained out there. “The president hasn’t looked yet, but he will,” he said to me. We then rode in silence. When we reached the station his final words summed up the man, or at least how he certainly viewed himself. “I’m a patriot, David. Never forget that.”