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Secret Service & Smokin’ Chicas…

My first experience with the US Secret Service was on a weekend in April, 1961, Nashville, TN. Me and a fellow soldier in the 101st Airborne at  Ft. Campbell, KY, were down in Nashville spending our tax refund checks…a windfall back then. We were 18. (This article has been updated as of January 2017.)

After checking into the Holiday Inn with a bottle of scotch, a pint of sloe gin and a rent-a-girl, we soon discovered a raging party on the floor above us.

Vice-President Lyndon Johnson was in town to throw out the first pitch at Sulphur Dell Park. Those guys knew how to throw a party.

 

Being in uniform made it easy to crash the event, but we were soon so drunk and obnoxious that the Secret Service had the Nashville PD lock us in our room. They left us our bottle, but took the girl (whom we had already paid for).

By the time we got back to base and reported to the CQ, we were called before the Company Exec (a young lieutenant pulling his 6-month, fruit-salad tour).  We had already well-learned a lesson about the Army . . . volunteer nothing.

We figured the Nashville cops wouldn’t press a report . . . they’d let the SS carry their own water. The SS wouldn’t press the issue . . . they simply got better things to do with their time. We were right. End of story.

Fast forward to November of ’94. I was in the fourth year of a federal conviction of a 25-yr sentence for cocaine conspiracy. The Secret Service requested an interview. Being curious, I agreed. The federal Bureau of Prisons (BOP) tried to block it, but the SS prevailed.

It turned out that a former cellmate had sent in a false report that I had threatened to blow up the White House with a poor-man’s guided missile (a plane loaded with explosives and a GPS auto-pilot to designated coordinates). It turned out that he was seeking a berth in a minimum-security camp.

While freely admitting that I was a “revolutionary socialist,” I did not, nor ever had entertained any such nonsense as fomenting violence against political figures. (What good would it do? They’re like cockroaches.)

(Note: When I told the agent my revolutionary perspective, he surprised me by asking “What type? Who do I follow?” I replied, “Trotsky.” He smiled, nodded his head, and the rest of the interview was quite cordial.)

Also, there was a question regarding a letter that I had written to the White House seeking a transfer to a federal prison closer to Detroit to help facilitate family visits. The letter was addressed to Socks the White House (Clinton) cat.

Don Novello, “Father Guido Sarducci.”

It was a tongue-in-cheek, Don Novello-style (“Father Guido Sarducci”) attempt at humor. No threats; quite the opposite.

A year-long investigation ensued. Friends, family, former employers, etc., were all interviewed as to my beliefs and proclivities. I advised all who asked to simply cooperate. It turned out that much of the accusations by that prison snitch were in fact either total inventions on projections of his own proclivities.

The SS returned in November of ’95 and told me that I had been cleared. That’s the only agency that I’m aware of to do any such thing. Usually, it’s “You’re a suspect,” and/or “You remain on our watch list.” If anything at all. When I laughed that I didn’t really believe them, they explained, “That’s not how we roll, Nick. While records are records, we do not maintain any active or watch-files on people we’ve cleared. To us, this is not an “unknown,” you’ve been actively cleared.” I believe them.

Fast forward to 2006: After 16 years behind-the-walls in a dozen different federal prisons, I learned that the Bureau of Prisons was holding my security level under a management variable classification to keep me locked behind the razor-wire, despite my zero-level, camp-eligible record.

It turned out that the BOP had been using the earlier (since cleared) Secret Service allegations against me despite their memo in that file of my clearance and order of removal of the file.  Once that was exposed, the Secret Service again ordered them to remove the copy from my file. (There was the intervention of a BOP Case Manager who quietly led this process. She was incensed at the unlawful treatment I was receiving.)

At a Vet-school show, Auburn U, Alabama, 2006.

I was transferred first to Maxwell AFB, Montgomery, Alabama, where I was attached as a dog trainer for 2-yrs, and later assigned for another 2-yrs to the Navy at Pensacola NAS, FL, where I was sent to officer’s haz-mat school and assigned my own base clean-up crew. Not a bad way to do prison time, eh? A world of difference from 16-yrs of prison hard time.

So now (back in 2012)I see in the news that some military and Secret Service agents were partying-down and indulging in some slap-and-tickle time down in Cartegena, Colombia, while securing President Obama during his visit there.

First of all, given my experience in the Carib and Colombia as a smuggler-pilot, I can certify that those ladies were not anything like the victim-poor of the 1% cruising Fort Street here in Detroit, giving blowjobs to truckers for $10-and-$20…if they can get that.

Sex-workers in Colombia (where it’s legal) must all carry DAS ID and monthly-updated health cards. I’m sure the US military guys, FBI, DEA and the CIA all apprised their SS visitors of the in-country norm. Hey, it’s a war-zone; anything goes! Even Hillary Clinton was partying down.

Obama might have been the only American in town not having fun. He was observed giving Shakira a friendly peck on the cheek, but I figure that with his corporate knee-pads he could have used them to better vantage. Big Bubba Clinton would have known what to do. The “scandal” actually did Obama a favor, taking away attention from his pathetic appearance at the Organization of American States (OAS).

Aww, go ahead. Michelle ain’t there…

Obama was perplexed why Venezuela went quasi-socialist, Argentina just nationalized their own oil, half the nations of South America have elected progressive if not left leaders, many are calling for the decriminalization of drugs (from their perspective, a US problem), and why most of South America has opted to include Cuba in their deliberations.

And the SS is busy partying and getting laid? Where’s the problem? Someone got their priorities straight.

As for me? Even after 50+yrs, I’ve never been able to drink scotch after that weekend in Nashville.  Now I ain’t got nothing against the Secret Service, in fact I owe ’em a couple, but paying for their own girls is a good way to start…

Dr. Publico (Nick Medvecky, PsyD), April 2012…

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One Response
  1. […] one of those positions myself.  After 16-yrs behind the razor-wire, and w/the intervention of the Secret Service on my behalf, I had been transferred to Maxwell AFB in Montgomery, AL, in […]

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