Oswald's Tale: An American Mystery

  On the morning of March 29, 1977, Edward Epstein had just finished his first session with George De Mohrenschildt in Palm Beach. Using Reader’s Digest funds, Epstein was paying $4,000 for four days with the Baron and was preparing to return after lunch to the house where George was staying for the afternoon interview. Abruptly, via the FBI, word arrived that in the interval between Epstein’s first meeting and the projected second meeting, De Mohrenschildt had learned that an investigator from the House Select Committee on Assassinations wished to meet and talk to him. That, presumably, was the preface to subpoenaing him for new testimony. De Mohrenschildt could control his interview with Epstein to a considerable degree, but that would not be nearly as feasible with the House Select Committee on Assassinations. De Mohrenschildt promptly killed himself with a shotgun. For Epstein’s literary purposes, the suicide was a catastrophe. He had already learned quite a bit and was anticipating that he would hear a good deal more. Back in Washington, among those Committee members who believed that elements in the CIA had been responsible for Kennedy’s death, De Mohrenschildt’s abrupt termination was assumed to be a murder.

  In his book Legend, Epstein recounts what the dead man had already told him:

  De Mohrenschildt had claimed that morning that he had been dealing with the CIA since the early 1950s. Although he had never been a paid employee of the CIA, he said that he had “on occasion done favors” for government officials who were connected to it. In turn, those same officials had helped him in his business contacts overseas. For example, he pointed to a contract awarded him in 1957 for a survey of the Yugoslav coast. He assumed his “connections” had arranged it for him, and he provided them with reports on the Yugoslav officials in whom they had expressed interest. Such connections were, as he put it, “at the crux” of oil exploration in underdeveloped countries.

  In late 1961—De Mohrenschildt could not pinpoint the date—he had a lunchtime meeting in downtown Dallas with one of those connections, J. Walton Moore . . . [who] purposefully steered the discussion in a new direction, the city of Minsk, where, as Moore seemed to know even before he told him, De Mohrenschildt had spent his childhood. Moore then told him about an ex-American Marine who had worked in an electronics factory in Minsk for the past year and in whom there was “interest,” since he was returning to the Dallas area. Although no specific requests were made by Moore, De Mohrenschildt gathered he would be appreciative to learn more about this unusual ex-Marine’s activities in Minsk.

  In the summer of 1962, De Mohrenschildt heard more about this defector. One of Moore’s associates handed him the address of Lee Harvey Oswald in nearby Fort Worth and then suggested that De Mohrenschildt might like to meet him . . . [whereupon] De Mohrenschildt called Moore again . . . Some help from the U.S. Embassy in Haiti would be greatly appreciated by him, he suggested to Moore. Although he recognized that there was no quid pro quo, he hoped that he might receive the same sort of tacit assistance he had previously received in Yugoslavia. “I would never have contacted Oswald in a million years if Moore had not sanctioned it,” he explained to me. “Too much was at stake.”7

  PART III

  DARK DAYS IN DALLAS

  1

  Evenings in Dallas

  George will speak of seeing Oswald as often as a dozen times from September 1962 to March 1963, but the testimony of his daughter, Alexandra, suggests a greater frequency. Of course, Alexandra’s memory for dates is lamentable, as is Jeanne and George De Mohrenschildt’s, and Marguerite’s, and George Bouhe’s, and just about all of the émigrés’. Marina’s recollection of a date, given the set of shocks she was to pass through, was rarely of use. Yet, in the study of espionage, crime, and romance, accurate chronology is paramount, for it is our best guide to motive: A lover who takes a vow of fidelity before an act of adultery is hardly to be comprehended in the same light as one who takes the vow afterward. In the first case, the lover is treacherous; in the second, repentant.

  The Warren Commission left much to look for in the style of inquiry, yet without their careful compiling of records on Oswald’s wages and places of employment and residence, there might have been no chronology at all. By dint of FBI and Warren Commission research, however, we can know at least where Oswald lived, when he moved, and who some of his associates proved to be.

  For the changes in his inner life, however, there are few chronological details. If not for public library records of withdrawal and return of books in New Orleans—no such files exist for Dallas or Fort Worth—we would not even have an idea of what he read or when.

  Much the same can be said of the De Mohrenschildts’ growing intimacy with the Oswalds. If George and Jeanne dropped in on numerous occasions, and helped them to move during various marital or economic crises, or arranged for others to assist them, the progress of the relationship as recounted in either the Baron’s memoirs or testimony remains static. For example, his manuscript relates the following:

  . . . I told Lee that I had known Jacqueline Kennedy as a young girl, as well as her mother, father and all her relatives and how charming the whole family was. I especially liked “Black Jack” Bouvier, Jacquie’s father, a delightful Casanova of the Wall Street.

  Lee was not jealous of the Kennedys’ and Bouviers’ wealth and did not envy their social positions, of that I was sure. To him wealth and society were big jokes, but he did not resent them.1

  Let us employ the rough rule of thumb that the manuscript recaptures for us the tone De Mohrenschildt exhibited when visiting with Lee—gracious, cosmopolitan, and always ready to compliment his target for qualities of mind and character—whereas the Warren Commission testimony represents George’s unspoken feelings while with Lee. All his concealed annoyance and boredom well up in that testimony. So many hours had to be spent, after all, developing a friendship with this unlikely companion. Yet, the Baron knows enough about Lee to touch his secret snobbery: Oswald would take it for granted that he was born to be in touch with people who knew the leaders of the world and their beautiful ladies. What a pity that we cannot place De Mohrenschildt’s anecdotes about Jackie in chronological context, for it might underline the moment when Oswald began to trust De Mohrenschildt more than a little.

  In any event, we can assume that after a month of accelerating friendship, the Baron has, by October 7, begun to take over Oswald’s working career. For that we have Gary Taylor as witness. At the time of his testimony, he is already George’s ex-son-in-law, so he may have had a jaundiced eye, but he does put it in this fashion:

  MR. TAYLOR. . . . It would be my guess that De Mohrenschildt encouraged him to move to Dallas, as he suggested a number of things to Lee—such as where to look for jobs. And it seems like whatever his suggestions were, Lee grabbed them and took them whether it was what time to go to bed or where to stay or to let Marina stay with us while he stayed at the YMCA.2

  At that time, in October 1962, two years before Gary Taylor gave his testimony, he and De Mohrenschildt’s daughter, Alexandra, had an apartment in Dallas, where they lived with a baby son who was June Oswald’s age. George now approached Gary and Alexandra with the fine idea of bringing them together with Lee and Marina. On October 7, a Sunday when George and Jeanne were taking the thirty-mile trip from Dallas to Fort Worth to hear a Van Cliburn concert by Soviet pianists, they all arranged to meet later that afternoon at Oswald’s house.

  We can guess the state of Alexandra’s feelings—she was not about to dismiss a rare invitation from a handsome and charming father, especially since she had grown up with an aunt, and had seen little of her father, for she had only been sixteen years old when she wed Gary, who was twenty. Now, in 1962, Gary was a frustrated young filmmaker working as a taxicab driver, and he and Alexandra had their difficulties—all the more reason for Alexandra to accept the overture from her father with its implicit promise of a little more intimacy.

  Yet, when she arrived at the Oswalds’ apartment on Mercedes Street about four on that Sunday afternoon, other people wer
e present. A gathering (without refreshments) was in progress, with George Bouhe, Elena Hall and her husband, Jeanne and George De Mohrenschildt, and—not least—Marguerite Oswald.

  One says not least automatically when referring to Marguerite, but in this case it does not necessarily apply:

  MR. JENNER. Did you have an opportunity to form an impression of her? . . .

  MR. TAYLOR. I just have a vague recollection of a somewhat plump woman who seemed to be—uh—out of place in the present crowd that was there that afternoon. And she didn’t seem to be particularly interested in anything that went on—and I think that’s what prompted her to leave.3

  It is sad to relate that this is the next to last time Marguerite will see Lee alive.

  MARGUERITE OSWALD. That was on a Sunday. I went there [two days later] on a Tuesday and the [house was vacant.] . . . So then I went to Robert’s home, and Robert was at work. So I was all upset. They didn’t tell me they were leaving. [Vada] said, “Robert helped them to move, and they gave us the food in the refrigerator.”4

  How could Marguerite not be aware that the arrangements must have been made on that Sunday afternoon after she left?

  MR. JENNER. All right. What else was discussed?

  MR. TAYLOR. . . . Lee’s job—which I believe he had just left the Friday before . . . He terminated his employment. I don’t know if he was fired or how he became severed from it—and he wanted to move to Dallas . . . Marina came to stay in my home . . .

  MR. JENNER. Why?

  MR. TAYLOR. . . . Just to give her a place to live until he was able to find a job here in Dallas . . . Lee stayed in Fort Worth that night and . . . next day, moved their bigger belongings—more bulky ones other than clothing—to Mrs. Hall’s garage and stored them there. And then he came to Dallas and—uh—took up residence at the YMCA here.5

  Oswald had given his visitors an impression that he had been laid off his job, but in fact he had quit.

  MR. BARGAS. . . . he didn’t give any indication [that] he was going to leave or anything like that.

  MR. JENNER. You expected him back the next day?

  MR. BARGAS. . . . he didn’t call in and he didn’t have a phone . . . so I never tried to get in contact with him . . . 6 as much as I can remember of the short time he was there . . . he was a good employee. I imagine if he pursued that trade, he might have come out to be a pretty good sheet metal man—I don’t know.7

  The assumption has to be that De Mohrenschildt had not only assured Lee that there would be a job for him in Dallas—but a serious end had been achieved. Now that Lee was separated from his wife, the relationship between the Baron and the defector could accelerate.

  Mystery commences again. Lee and Marina will be staying in separate places for the rest of October and the first few days of November—four weeks in all. She will camp out a few days with Gary and Alexandra Taylor in their small apartment in Dallas and then move over to Elena Hall’s house in Fort Worth, where Lee will go out to visit June and Marina a couple of times a week, then ostensibly travel back to his room at the YMCA in Dallas, where everyone, including Marina, believes he is staying.

  The difficulty, however, is that Lee was registered at the Y for but five days—from October 15 through October 19. In the previous week, and in the two weeks following October 19, no one knew or was ready to admit that he or she knew where Oswald lived. This gap is present despite the best efforts of the FBI and the Warren Commission to answer that question.

  The source of his money is another enigma. He had, according to Robert, already paid back the $200 he had borrowed, and this had been accomplished on a salary of $50 a week over a period of twelve weeks while paying a rent of $59.50 a month. If no more than $20 a week was spent on food and all other necessities for the nine weeks they lived on Mercedes Street, the feat of paying back $200 to Robert is accountable, but there would be no other money on hand.

  Alexandra Taylor has an erratic flash of memory on this matter:

  ALEXANDRA GIBSON.8 . . . I think my father lent them money, didn’t he? I don’t know . . . he had to have money to stay at the YMCA. He had to have money to get started, and I know who gave him money, George Bouhe did . . . .9 he liked Mr. Bouhevery much and . . . I think he thought that Mr. Bouhe might be his key to getting a good job . . . I’d say George Bouhe was the one that stuck by him the most, more than my father, more than any of them . . . 10

  Either Bouhe or De Mohrenschildt or both may have been supporting him for a period. It is certainly true that De Mohrenschildt, by way of Anna Meller’s husband, Teofil, managed to stimulate some job interviews at which Lee showed himself to be cleanly dressed, polite, and attentive (as reported later by the Texas Employment Commission). After three days, he got work he liked at a special printing plant called Jaggars-Chiles-Stovall. The firm had a considerable variety of photographic equipment and typefaces and so could develop an advertisement all the way from receiving the design to mailing the finished mats to the local newspapers.

  MR. GRAEF. . . . I asked him where his last position was and he said, “The Marines,” . . . I said, “Honorably discharged, of course,” as a joke, and he said, “Oh, yes,” and we went on with other facts of the interview.11

  Oswald would be more interested in this job than any he had had before or would later find, and for a period he learned quickly and enjoyed the collateral advantages: With Jaggars-Chiles-Stovall’s range of equipment, he was able to forge identity cards for himself. Moreover, his pay, with overtime, came to as much as $70 a week.

  The questions still arise: What was Oswald doing each evening through October, and where in Dallas was he living? During those four days when Marina and June stayed with the Taylors, Lee visited twice, but according to Gary, “there was no personal communication between them.”

  MR. TAYLOR. . . . within one door of us was a big park where they could have taken walks and been alone together and talked—but this never happened . . . It was just like two friends meeting.12

  Before the move from Fort Worth, Marina had been complaining to the émigrés that Oswald was showing no interest in her.

  MR. DE MOHRENSCHILDT. She openly said that he didn’t see her physically—right in front of him. She said, “He sleeps with me just once a month, and I never get any satisfaction out of it.” A rather crude and completely straightforward thing to say in front of relative strangers, as we were.

  MR. JENNER. Yes.

  MR. DE MOHRENSCHILDT. I don’t blame Lee for giving her a good whack on the eye.13

  Marina had said as much to Elena Hall. Then, driving with Jeanne one day in the De Mohrenschildts’ convertible, she had proceeded to comment on how attractive and muscular were the black men they passed on the street. Jeanne, despite her not-ordinary career as a ballet dancer in China and her flamboyance with a bikini, was shocked. She thought it highly improper for a married woman to speak in such fashion. Or so she presented it to the Warren Commission.

  Marriages can trudge through weeks and months that are equal to sustained expeditions in the desert on the hump of a camel. Oswald had obviously withdrawn from Marina. The question that arises again, as it did while he was in the Marines and in that curious first year he spent in Minsk, when he never had a woman and was content to go on platonic dates with Ella Germann, is whether he was homosexual. If so, it has to be the closet drama of his life.

  It is far from wholly improbable, however, to outline a scenario where Oswald lived for a week with some older man, had a spat, moved to the Y for a week, had a reconciliation, and went back to the man for a fortnight, all the while receiving money for his pains. No proof for such a scenario can be offered, but then, some explanation has to be found for those missing three weeks. Since our hypothesis is not anchored, however, let us levitate even higher. We can enjoy the kind of surprise one would find in a novel, and will assume, if only for a page, that George Bouhe is the secret lover:

  MR. BOUHE. . . . I had a desire, if I could, to put him on his feet economically
so he could support his wife and child—I said, now those were my words, “Lee, you’ve now got a job, a lithographic job at $1.45 an hour as an apprentice. If you apply yourself”—those were my very words—“in a couple of years you’ll have a skill that can be saleable any place.”

  And he said, “You think so.” And he didn’t even say thank you.

  Then I added, “Well, I would like to hear how you get along,” which is a standard statement I would ask anybody.

  And for 2 or 3—or possibly 5 days thereafter, he would call me at 6 o’clock, I guess when he finished his work and say, “I am doing fine. Bye.”14

  The description of George Bouhe by others as a “fussy, opinionated old bachelor” was the euphemism at that time for a late-middle-aged homosexual who had led a reasonable and useful life and had earned enough in the course of things to pay for a few pleasures. Someone as ungracious as Oswald could have been deemed equal to rough trade for a man as physically timid as Bouhe. And, indeed, according to Priscilla Johnson McMillan, Lee did use Bouhe’s name as a reference, “going so far as to list Bouhe at a false address.” As Bouhe would remark later to the same author, “He always got what he wanted . . .”15

  There is an alternative scenario. It is that matters had advanced between Oswald and De Mohrenschildt; it was now judged by De Mohrenschildt and his handlers that Oswald was not working for the KGB, and serious undertakings that could employ Oswald as a provocateur against the Soviets were being examined. To force the imaginative possibilities, Oswald may even have been holed up in a safe house and only moved over to the Y for the week of October 15 to 19 to give credence to his cover story that he was staying there.