I’ve had many jobs in my life. I’ve written about many and my bio explains that in more detail. But I’ve never told anyone about my disastrous adventure as a secret agent. And, as you may surmise, those days were wrought with danger and being caught could lead to severe consequences.
In the 1960’s American television was loaded with TV series about spies. Obviously, with the Cold War in full flower, spies were on everyone’s mind. The series, The Man from U.N.C.L.E. starring Robert Vaughn and David McCallum seems to have led the TV spy craze with roughly a dozen others attempting to follow suit.
Gene Barry was Amos Burke in Secret Agent. Patrick McGoohan was Secret Agent Man whose theme was sung by Johnny Rivers.
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There’s a man who leads a life of danger.
To everyone he meets, he stays a stranger.
(Now get that one out of your head.)
Patrick Mcnee and Diana Rigg were the Avengers. Robert Culp and Bill Cosby traveled the world in I Spy. Steve Forrest was The Baron. Robert Wagner starred in It Takes a Thief. “Oh, Al, I’m not asking you to spy. I’m just asking you to steal…”
Stephanie Powers was April Dancer in the spinoff, The Girl from U.N.C.L.E. And, of course, there was Mission Impossible.
The first “Bond” film, Dr. No, was released in 1962 so, naturally, with all of this, I wanted to be a secret agent. Yes, westerns were big on TV back then, too, and neighbors Duane and Bobby and I kept our neighborhood safe from outlaws with our western guns and holsters by Mattel. But spies were so cool, and soon the spy toys hit the market.
There was a James Bond attaché case like the one in From Russia with Love. There was another called Secret Sam where you could fire a gun from inside the brief case. There was also one that opened to reveal a mortar launcher. The Man from U.N.C.L.E. had a version that turned the pistol into a rifle. Another case had a real working camera. One toy was a camera that turned into a pistol and a second was a radio that turned into a rifle. And a TV commercial showed a gun from Johnny Seven OMA that contained seven different weapons.
Of course, I wanted them all, but none more than the James Bond attaché case. My birthday was coming up and I stood, nearly drooling, in front of that attaché case in the toy section at Sears. I’m sure there were times in my childhood that I really wanted one toy or another, but this is the first time that I think I coveted a toy. My birthday is in December so the toy department at Sears was burgeoning with toys. While my parents strolled the aisles with my siblings, surreptitiously, I’m sure, noting at which toys they lingered, I stood and stared at that attaché case; dreaming of all the spying I could do if I had my own. When they finally made it to me, I pointed and said how much I really wanted it.
But it was too expensive.
Talk about a letdown! I must have been in about 5th grade and I remember my father trying to hasten my maturation by directing my attention to things other than toys, but I wanted to be a secret agent. So, with the attaché case being more than a birthday-present-budget would allow, I got the secret agent gun that was sold separately.
It actually shot little plastic, orange bullets and, after getting it home and excitedly loading it, I discovered what a piece of junk the toy really was. The spring-loaded firing mechanism was too hard to operate. It took so much tension in my finger to pull the trigger that my hand twisted with the needed torque and I could barely hit my intended target. What a disappointment!
But I had my gun and now I was gonna be a secret agent! A spy!
With every move he makes,
Another chance he takes.
Odds are you won’t live to see tomorrow.
Except… what did spies really do? What spying could I accomplish in my house? I snuck up and down the hallway a few times and my siblings didn’t see me. Actually, I’m sure they did but they didn’t react because I went up and down that hallway multiple times each day and they didn’t know I was sneaking and, in reality, couldn’t have cared less.
I next decided that spies and secret agents snuck into places and stole things. So I went (snuck) into another bedroom to steal an important thing. But this was the bedroom of my two youngest sisters. What the dickens could I steal that might save America? I opened a drawer and looked inside. I moved some clothing and saw nothing of strategic value to our efforts in the Cold War.
But then it hit me. I knew what spies did! While they were looking for something, they ransacked the room! So I opened drawers and began throwing their clothes up in the air. Then I turned over a few of their toys and pulled the blankets and sheets from their bed. I even went back and removed a drawer from their dresser and set it, cockeyed, against the bed.
I stood back and appraised my work. The room was a huge mess. It may have even bordered on being a disaster! Smiling to myself, I went (snuck) back to my room. It was only minutes later that I heard the sweet sounds of my mother’s voice… “BILLY YOU GET OVER HERE THIS MINUTE!”
Why did she always think of me first?
I went (didn’t sneak) down the hall to her. Furious? That might be a good word to describe the expression on her face. Her arm was extended into the room, her hand with an extended index finger. “I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING BUT GET IN THERE AND STRAIGHTEN OUT THIS ROOM THIS MINUTE!”
I began to sputter explanations about having to do that as part of my duties as a secret agent but she obviously was a double-agent for the KGB because she didn’t let me complete a sentence. So, back into the room I went. I picked up the drawer and began fumbling with it, trying to replace it in the dresser. Looking over my shoulder, I saw her still standing in the doorway, hands on hips, expression unchanged. I doubt that I had ever folded a piece of clothing in my life. Until then, I simply put my soiled clothing on the washer and, the following day, it was either hanging in my closet or neatly folded in one of my drawers.
I spent a long time in that room and wasn’t allowed to leave until she was satisfied that I’d made an effort to put everything back the way it was. Then, it was back to my room to “think about what I’d done.” I’m sure she had to go in and refold most, if not all, of the clothes. And I’m sure James Bond never got in trouble by his mother.
Secret Agent Man,
Secret Agent Man.
They’ve given you a number,
And sent you to your room.
