I Am a Patsy! by George de Mohrenschildt
We are alive and fairly healthy. I returned to teaching and am happy to be with young people. But I often miss Lee and his stimulating presence. Real friends remained faithful and good to us, the superficial and false relationship disappeared.
Yet, this past friendship with Lee had strangely adverse effects on our lives. People read superficially this gossipy Warren Report and wonder who these strange people are. They call us, ask foolish questions. Even to–day insidious articles appear claiming that we were “bribed” (by whom?) to hide the truth about Kennedy’s assassination. Subsequent publicity make us controverial and even gruesomely threatening.
Up to this day I read strange idiocies about myself. An example is a book published in French: L’Amérique Brûle — America Burns. The publishers are in Luxembourg where they cannot be sued. In this book I am an alleged CIA agent assigned to Lee Harvey Oswald. Let me translate a chapter regarding my relationship with Lee.
Oswald was put under supervision by the CIA and interrogated as well as tested by one of the specialists utilized by the CIA in Washington D.C. and by its Houston Branch. He was an oilman, whose nom de guerre (operative name) was George de Mohrenschildt.
It certainly should have chosen an easier nom de guerre!
His nickname was ‘the Chinaman’ and he pretended to have been born in Ukraine and was an ex–officer in the Polish Cavalry. He was recruited during the war by OSS and was inscribed in 1944 at the University of Texas where he obtained a degree of a geological engineer, specializing in petroleum Geology. The CIA had utilized him in Iran, in Indonesia, in Egypt, in Panama, in Nicaragua, in San Salvador, in Honduras, in Ghana, in Togoland and finally in Haiti, where he worked “in principle” with Sinclair Oil Company. De Mohrenschildt was closely connected with or mixed up with oil circles and was member of Dallas Petroleum Club, Abilene Country Club, Dallas Society of Petroleum Geologists. He had very close relations with managers of Kerr–McGee Oil Company, Continental Oil Company, Coswell Oil Equipment, Texas–Eastern Corporation and also with John Mecom of Houston. He was a distinguished and cultured man, who was part of the establishment and member of the social register. His White–Russian wife, born in China, often operated with him. Another of his covers was ICA, Washington D.C.
And so I hare standing for judgement. I have never been to some of the countries mentioned here (for example Egypt and Indonesia) and I lived and worked in many other countries this article did not mention. In each case I either worked for myself or for some oil companies, but I never, never worked for CIA. And I do not think CIA will hire me in the future.
As for the I.C.A. mentioned above, this was the name of the division of the State Department, a shortening of International Cooperation Administration which dealt with economic help abroad. I was hired as a petroleum technician [and] in that capacity worked for a year in Yugoslavia.
I cannot say that I never was a CIA agent, I cannot prove it. I cannot prove either that I ever was. Nobody can.
Only recently disclosures have been made giving names of the CIA agents who were at the same time our State Department employees and worked in our embassies and consulates in various capacities. Before this the fact of belonging to CIA was a well kept secret.
And so, almost everything I had done in my life became distorted and suspicious by unscrupulous reporters and gossip–mongers.
Just a few months ago in the San Francisco Chronicle and in the Chicago Tribune, suggesting snidely that I had gone to the Bahamas after the assassination to be paid off there by someone, to keep some secrets regarding Lee Harvey Oswald… And what can you do about it? Suing is not my style and I have no time for it. And so I write to these writers and receive letters of apologies.
Another painful annoyance to us to think that some of our good friends, in the foreign countries where I had worked, read this trash and may believe that I was some kind of an agent and that they had befriended a double–faced individual.
The same suspicion applies to my wife and her friends abroad.
Let us hope that this book, poorly written and disjointed, but sincere, will help to clear up our relationship with our dear, dead friend Lee.