During the late 1950’s there was widespread fear of Russia (U.S.S.R.). American manufactures were considered prime "Cold War" risks and many of their executives targets for bribery or abduction.
Labor wars, a looming conflict in Vietnam, an aggressive China and the feared spread of communism made headlines daily.
The United States having been caught "flat footed" by Japan's unprovoked attack a little more than a decade prior would not be unprepared again.
My grandfather used to tell this story -
It had been more than a year that a negro International Harvester employee named Willie Simpson had been shining board member's shoes during executive meetings.
The man dutifully went about his task in silence, often under the mahogany boardroom table while executives discussed production, labor strategies, government contracts and post war supply issues. Many items discussed were not meant for the ears of outsiders, competitors, or communists.
My grandfather liked Willie, and they often traded fishing stories and reminisced about their Southern backgrounds and upbringing. They became friends as much as White and Black men could be back in the days before the civil rights era.
One afternoon Willie told my grandfather he wanted to say a personal goodbye and that he enjoyed how "Mister Mac" had always treated him. Willie said he was honored to shine the shoes of a man who had worked his way up from sweeping shop floors to the International Harvester boardroom.
When my surprised grandfather pressed him as to where he was going and why, Willie said he wasn't permitted to discuss his transfer.
Outraged my grandfather exclaimed "Transfer? By whom? Adding, I'll speak to Harvester management right away!".
Willie quietly took my grandfather aside and said "I'm sorry sir my real name is not Willie Simpson and I'm not employed by International Harvester". And with that he showed "Mister Mac" his badge and ID then folded it back and placed it in his secret vest pocket, explaining that he was a Special Agent with the FBI and that he'd appreciate it if he'd not discuss their conversation with anyone. My grandfather agreed.
And that was it.
We as grandchildren were left to assume that this story, while well-meaning, was of course pure fiction. A fable to encourage acceptance of all people regardless of skin color and a lesson never to assume you know everything about someone.
A lesson I accepted as did my siblings. A story told often by my grandfather then forgotten until retold again. In fact, my uncle told the story at my father's funeral in December of 2023, to which we all laughed and smiled, accepting the old man's tale just as we would have done had my grandfather told it for the first time at that very moment.
Pretty funny, a Black FBI Special Agent from the south in the late 1950s, working under cover. We accepted it as fact though we knew it was just a fun tall tale.
This week the FBI El Paso Field Office posted this on "X":
Feb 27, 2024
In January 1956, Leo James McClairen became the newest special agent in @FBIMiamiFL. His selection was quietly historic: McClairen was the first Black agent in the Deep South.
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