Robert F. "Bob" Ingram was a police officer at the University of Washington from 1951 to 1978, retiring with the rank of Captain and head of all the department's criminal investigations. The following is extracted from a history of the University Police compiled by Captain Steven H. Robinson (Ret.).
Recalling the UW Police
I joined the University of Washington Police Department in the month of February 1951. I was assigned to accompany one of the old Campus Marshals. He was to check me out on all of the responsibilities of the swing shift. We were to take care of "Beat #2" besides drive around and keep our eyes open. I was thoroughly impressed by my mentor. He really showed me the ropes and, demonstrated why the University decided to make a change.
His name was J. H. (nicknamed Jughead) Braun. He was in his 60s and my first day on the job was his last. Swing shift started at 5:00 p.m. and, since the University shut down at the same time, our first objective was to see that the outside entrances on beat #2 were locked. We took care of some of these responsibilities then went to a grocery store where J. H. shopped while I waited in the car. He came out with a large sack of groceries then drove across the Montlake Bridge and down one of the side streets to his home. There he deposited the groceries and had a chat with someone inside, presumably his wife. I waited in the car for him to perform this obligation.
At about 8:30 we headed for the Penthouse Theater and entered the office. Our objective was to escort the cashier and the receipts from there to the Showboat Theater and the Playhouse, where she got their money. Once this was accomplished, we escorted her to the bank, where she deposited it.
I noticed that J. H. was getting a little testy because there seemed to be short delays at the various theaters along the way and the task wasn't completed soon enough for him. I found out that a very important task he routinely performed was a little behind schedule. As soon as the bank deposit was made we hurried to the service entrance of Commons (Raitt Hall Cafeteria) and entered the kitchen. It didn't take long for him to find the pies and ice cream from which he constructed a huge Pie A La Mode.
A New Department
Until that time the campus was kept secure by an organization called The Campus Marshals. It consisted of a small body of men who worked under a State Patrol Sergeant. The Sergeant lent the only police authority to the Marshal's Office. His subordinates, although armed and dangerous, had no police powers.
Late in the autumn of 1950, I wanted a different line of work than the one I was in, but had no idea what that might be. One fine day, I noticed a large poster on the rear of a Seattle Police three wheeled Harley. That department was seeking police officer applicants. I didn't know that police positions were open to anyone who could qualify, so I went for it. During the oral exam, I was asked why I didn't apply for police officer earlier in life and my very truthful answer was "I thought you had to be Irish or know somebody to get selected." At any rate, I passed all of the examinations, written, oral, physical, and medical.
It was late in 1950 when the list of successful candidates came out and, with the help of my veterans preference points, I was in the top. I got a letter from the University of Washington inviting me to go there and learn about the new police department that was getting started on the campus. The State Legislature gave the Board of Regents at the University the authority to create a police department and the officers would have the same powers as police and sheriffs. Apparently the U. had obtained the eligibility list from the Seattle Police and sent invitations to a number of those on it. Most of the men who were on the SPD list left the University when they got notified that there were jobs for them downtown. I was the only one that stayed.
For the first three or four weeks I was assigned to the care and beat #2. Since the department had no radios, the officers on car patrol had to call in via telephone every half to one hour, no longer, so I was frequently going to an office in one of the buildings to make the call. I varied the locations so I would be able to explore a little. In between calls while in the car I snooped into all the little nooks and crannies until I knew the campus intimately. What an interesting place the University was.
My first Saturday on the job was my first involvement in anything resembling criminal activity. So many complaints about exhibitionists had been coming in that it seemed as if the campus had a regular infestation of them. I was interested because I don't believe I was aware that such people even existed. When I was asked if I would work that Saturday morning I was happy to do so. It seems that a particularly active exhibitionist ("Lily Waver," was the slang name in vogue then), displayed his wares on the third floor of the Music Building regularly each Saturday morning to the female students who came there to use the practice rooms. This particular gentleman was dubbed, "Tally Whacker Sam" and was described as a young man wearing white sneakers and a grubby looking trench coat which he flung open when he wished to show himself.
I went there the first Saturday and hid in one of the practice rooms. Each room had two doors. The outer door had a tiny window about head high that permitted a view of the hallway. The inner door was solid and when closed cut off most of the sound and the view. I stationed myself inside one of the rooms and kept the inner door open so I could watch for the arrival of Sam. Instead of him, however, a number of students, men and women, showed up. The stories about Sam had gotten around and most were there to see him. It wasn't long before I was discovered. Once I convinced them that I was a policeman not an exhibitionist they wanted to hang around and rap with me. If Sam came to do his thing the number of people scared him off because I didn't see anyone that fit his description.
I recall one incident when I drove along the east campus roadway and noticed a car parked alongside the woods opposite the tennis courts. An older man was standing nonchalantly at its rear. Neither the man nor the car seemed to fit so I swung into the parking area behind Lewis Hall so I could get a look at the man's actions. About the time I was in position to sneak a peek without being seen, Sergeant Gilman went by on the three-wheeler. He stopped by the man's car and I heard him talking so I drove around and joined him.
The man had been snitching Rhododendron plants and putting them in the trunk of his car. He saw me far enough away that he go the trunk closed before I could see what he was doing. Once I was past he felt safe enough to open his trunk and go after more plants. That's when Sergeant Gilman came along and saw what the old, unlucky chap was up to. He was arrested and I got to drive him to our headquarters in [the basement of] Smith Hall. It was the first arrest for the new department. I was glad Sergeant Gilman did it because I hadn't the faintest idea what I would have done with him.
Union Bay Village
The UW Police had several areas to patrol besides the upper campus and each was unique. Union Bay Village was one of them that we went through fairly often especially in the evening and during the hours of darkness. The village was jam packed with housing for married students. The units on the east side of the main drag were, for the most part, single family dwellings and were fairly attractive, comfortable appearing houses. The ones on the west side of the road were multiple family units and looked every bit the World War II military surplus that they were. When I recall those early days I'm surprised that with so many people in such a compressed area that there weren't more problems of a domestic nature. I can't remember handling complaints by neighbors of loud parties keeping them awake.
One family caused almost continuous concern, however. I should say one man. I don't think his wife had much to do with it. The guy was a law student named Alva Long. His dad was a well-known and popular juvenile court judge. Alva lived in the end apartment of one of the units and he was able to see the approach of a patrol car on his street long before it got near. Alva claimed to love police officers and whenever he saw one approaching, he went out and waved him down. He happily greeted the officer and usually offered him a bottle of his home brew. Alva was so adamant that the officer was usually inclined to accept the gift. Although Mr. Long was a likeable cuss his brew was the most vile tasting liquid I ever tasted. It was the talk of the department. It was almost necessary to accept his offer, if one hoped to get on his way in a reasonable amount of time but we didn't have to drink it. Perhaps it was wrong, for the sake of courtesy, to tell him the stuff was like drinking champagne. [Alva C. Long became a prominent, if eccentric, attorney in King County. He died in 1994. --Ed.]
Another frustrating problem was the theft of women's panties from their clotheslines. These losses seemed to occur late in the afternoon, for the most part. If any were left out overnight they were bound to disappear. We finally caught the poor guy. It was the teenage paperboy. He would take the panties to the rest room at a nearby service station and chew the crotch out of them.
After dark the window peekers came out of the woodwork. There were so many reports of them that we spent a good share of our shift patrolling in the area. We managed to catch a few and the locals caught some, which they held for us. Those we had a case against were booked but many were treated as prowlers, warned and released. The Village was a particularly attractive place for window peekers. Many of the window blinds were too short and when drawn left a gap of one or two inches at the bottom, the answer to a peeker's prayer.
One "dirty old man" tried to hide under a car, but was too fat to make it all the way. Then there was the swift young man who parked his green Ford on the street while he went from window to window. We got suspicious of the car then noticed that he changed his shoes when he went on the prowl. He put on sneakers and left his street shoes in the car. One night when we got a call from the Village we found his car and, instead of looking for him we staked out the car and nabbed him when he came to it.
The greatest number of surplus buildings was men's dorms. Most of the dorm residents were GIs and a bit older and more mature than those men who came to the U straight from high school. I'm surprised, looking back, at how few times we had any problems with them. I got a kick out of the speed they could generate with a case of beer on one shoulder. Almost any night after dark a few would be heading for home with the ingredients for a party. Believing, and rightly so, that they weren't to have alcoholic beverages in the dorms, on seeing one of our patrol cars in the area, they would take off. Neither I nor any other officer tried to stop any of them.
The only time I ever went into one of the dorms was with a pair of FBI agents to arrest a fugitive who sought sanctuary with an old buddy. When the fugitive fell asleep the old buddy turned him in.
Another thing I get a chuckle out of was the contest between Tom Nolen, a 2nd shift officer, and one of the GIs. It seemed that, in spite of regulations against it, the chap was determined to park his car near his dorm overnight. Nolen was equally determined to put a ticket on the vehicle whenever he did so. The contest ended one evening when Nolen came to headquarters carrying a note he found under the offender's windshield wiper. It simply said, "Officer Nolen wears a girdle." I think Nolen decided that he had better things to do than hunt down the offending vehicle every night.
Just after it got to be daylight on Sunday mornings the whole world seemed inert. Several times this got to me and I took it out on an inoffensive board. Alongside the Cyclotron several boards (shiplap) held back the dirt bank of the cut in the hillside. One of the boards had an intriguing knot in it. I deduced that if I could hit the knot with a bullet if would shatter said knot and leave a hole about two inches in diameter. I took a shot or two with my Smith and Wesson on several different Sunday mornings. I felt that it was unfair to get close to the board and shoot the knot at point blank range so I stood back a bit. I never hit the knot.
One morning I parked the car and started to have a go at the knot again, I noticed a layer of ice on a mud puddle so I shattered it into little pieces with a couple of well directed shots. I mention this gunplay to illustrate the isolation of the hill on the east side of the campus. I was confident that my shots would go unheard or unheeded. The nearest habitations in a direct line of sight and hearing were those in Union Bay Village. I doubt if those people could hear a bomb go off next door on Sunday mornings.
The Chief, Ed Kanz, was recruited from Walla Walla where he had been the Chief of Police. A few people, besides students in dormitories, lived on the upper campus back then. Chief Kanz, in a house behind Roberts Hall and overlooking Husky Stadium, and Sergeant Gilman had an apartment in the basement of the old Faculty Club. I believe those residences were part of the deal when Kanz and Gilman were recruited for the new department. Herb Bullis, a lead janitor, lived upstairs in the Washington State Museum.
Chief Kanz' house was situated that he could sit on his front porch and watch us as we directed traffic and parked cars for special events in the Pavilion or Stadium. He usually did so and it made us a little nervous. Once when we had four straight evenings of high school commencements to handle Chief Kanz was out of town for a conference of some sort and we felt at ease thinking we wouldn't be working under his watchful eye. It wasn't to be. Susie, his 10-year old daughter took his place every day. We didn't know if she was there to check up on us or not so, to be safe, we worked at our most efficient best.
The only excitement on the weekends was from people speeding across the campus on Sunday morning to park in "A" lot while attending church. The speeders wouldn't have created much of a stir except that about the time they were hurrying so as not to be late, Chief Kanz was driving out onto the roadway from his residence behind Roberts Hall to get the Sunday paper. When he pulled out of the driveway beside More Hall onto the main drag they, regularly, almost picked him off. Nearly every Sunday morning he came steaming into the office and told us to get those people.
Mondays were not my favorite days to work as a sergeant, probably because Chief Kanz was in the office all day. Although I liked and respected him enough, it just seemed more pleasant to keep out of his sight as much as possible. I would usually drive around checking on things that didn't need checking on.
More often than I wanted, Fire Marshall, Charlie Rohr would ride with me. Charlie was a retired Seattle Fire Captain who was hired by the University to look after its fire safety responsibilities. Charlie was a superb scrounger. He could find more junk that he needed than anyone I have known before or since. Most of what he found was World War II surplus that had been showered on the University whether the stuff was needed or not. One item that was particularly attractive to Charlie was a large supply of leather Thompson Sub-Machine Gun scabbards stored in the basement of Smith Hall. I think Charlie got most of them. He got me in trouble with the Chief a time or two when I was off the air for too long a time.
Then there was the time officer Dugald Pinyan and I responded to a call from the Hall Health Center one Friday afternoon. A young woman was throwing things out of an upstairs window and generally creating havoc. She was locked in a room and wanted out in the worst way. Dr. Lester, who was in charge of the Health Center, was handling the case and told us she was a violent mental case. We entered the room and confronted a very attractive young lady. She had run out of things to throw out the window. So she used lipstick and everything else she could find to mark up the walls.
We told her to calm down but it seemed to me that she was calm enough to handle safely. In fact, she seemed to be a very angry young lady, not a mental case. She sat on the floor in a corner with Dug and I sitting beside her. We had to sit on the floor because all the chairs had gone out the window. The three of us just sat there having a pleasant conversation. She told us she wanted out so she could go out and have a good time that Friday night. It upset her when they wouldn't let her leave so she retaliated by causing as much commotion as she could.
All of a sudden Dr. Lester came storming into the room with a large syringe holding a long needle. He was muttering something about having enough of her antics and that he would give her something to calm her down. When she saw that needle, she rose to her feet and prepared to defend herself. I got behind her and pinned her arms with mine. I also got one of her legs between mine and held it fast. Her free leg became a dangerous weapon. She lashed out with it holding Dr. Lester at bay for a few seconds, then, as he closed in, one of her well timed kicks caught him in the crotch and he went over backwards onto the bed. I rather enjoyed the exchange because, by this time, my sympathies were with her.
The blow only increased his determination to give her the shot. Dug and I managed to hold her still long enough for him to get it done. The shot took all of the fight out of her. The doctor wanted to take her to Harborview hospital so we put her in our patrol car. I rode in the back seat with her while Dug drove and Dr. Lester sat up front with him. The girl was crying now so I gave her my hanky to use.
A few days after we delivered her to the hospital I got a letter in the mail which had my neatly folded hanky and a note which simply thanked the "nice young officer" for letting her use it.
The University Grows
I believe it was autumn of 1953 that the 2nd Shift honeymoon ended. University of Washington Night School moved from downtown Seattle to the campus. I was at gate #2 that first evening when the night school students drove onto the campus. Their cars filled all of the parking lots including "B" lot, and then "A" lot and they still kept coming. I don't know where they all found parking, but they did. Chief Kanz ran up and down my back that first night and again when the same thing happened the second night. It didn't take long to get the parking organized along the same lines as the daytime sessions, but night school raised Hob with the evening serenity we enjoyed before. Now there were people in many of the buildings until far into the night.
Head of Investigations
Late in the 1950s Chief Kanz had me work in plain clothes on day shift. At first I didn't understand his reasoning but I soon found out that I had enough to keep me busy. It was a happy choice for me. I thoroughly enjoyed criminal investigation and most of the other duties I was assigned. Over the years I got so much to do that an officer was assigned to work with me. For several years there was only one. Then, especially during the Vietnam crisis days, more were added until I would up with a sergeant and four detectives.
Did I tell you about the strange abortion case? It happened during the Century 21 Fair (1962). It seems that young lab assistant from the animal quarters got scared. He believed his partner was performing abortions in the area. At that time an abortion was a serious felony. The case was given to me when I got back. Sgt. Phelan had picked up the kit of tools the suspect used and had them for me.
The first thing I did was to contact a couple doctors who were able to testify that the only thing that collection of tools could be used for was abortions. As it happened, one of the doctors told me that one of Gracie Hanson's agents had come to see if he would perform abortions on some of her showgirls. The doctor turned him down. While this was going on I got a call to go to the medical director's office. There talking with him was a doctor who said a young lady had come to him with a complication brought on by an abortion. He said it was easy to take care of, a small piece of placenta caught in the cervix, enough to cause severe pain, but not serious. She told the doctor that she had gotten the abortion in the animal quarters of the U of W Health Sciences Building.
I got hold of the girl. She said she was desperate to get an abortion because she was engaged to be married soon and had foolishly gotten pregnant by another man. The last thing she wanted was for her fiancé to find out. Scared, she went to a doctor to see about an abortion, he refused but told her to go to the Medical Dental Building downtown. She went there and while scanning the register an elevator operator came to her and, obviously guessing her problem, told her to go to a certain floor and see a masseur. She said the masseur made her purchase a full routine before he gave her the information she needed, where to go and who to see. Her grandmother drove her to the Health Sciences Building where she met a man. He took her up stairs to the animal quarters where he performed a slightly botched-up abortion.
A Seattle Detective, Gail Leonard, was assigned to the case in order to get it filed. The Prosecutor decided not to charge the girl. Too many people were involved, the Grandmother for taking her to get the deed done, and her parents for financing the abortion. The man, it turned out was a citizen of Sweden, so he was fired and deported. As I recall, the girl told her fiancé about the whole affair and he was willing to overlook it and go ahead with the wedding. And it came to pass that a case was made against the Gracie Hanson enterprise as a result of her agent talking to the UW doctor.
I spent most of my career as a detective supervisor in plainclothes. We looked at crimes differently and necessarily so. My view, and the one that the detectives followed, said not to effect an arrest until the case was investigated and prepared for presentation to the Prosecutor. Subsequently, a warrant would be issued and the party arrested under its authority. A very clean and neat way of doing things, in my opinion. The patrol division, on the other hand, made on-view arrests. They liked the idea of booking the arrestee directly, but didn't like the idea of trying to get a confession or preparing the case for prosecution.
Another strange one was the transvestite dressed in women's clothing who haunted women's restrooms. He had a homemade periscope, which he used to peer under the partition at the woman in the next booth. We also had the weird fireman who managed to get into the walk space behind the women's johns in the "Hec" Ed Building. His plan was to take photographs of the women through a small ventilator screen on the back wall.
And I'll never forget the guy (or guys) who wrote novels on the paper in the bathrooms of Smith Hall. He would write his story then stuff the toilet paper back into the dispenser so the next occupant would find it. The stories were pretty much alike, in that they usually told of an isolated cabin in the woods, a nice big fireplace and a bear rug or thick carpet in front of it. Of course, the main ingredient was a very handsome young man.
The first demonstration I can recall happened on Governor's Day . That was an annual event where the Governor and the University President would make a speech then stand while the ROTC troops marched in review. The big day this year was to take place in the Quad. Although there had been a dozen or more protestors that carried anti-war banners and signs through the Quad the year before, this year would be a bit different. My assignment was to station myself, in plainclothes, near a small set of bleachers for use by the big shots on the west side of the Quad.
Out in the center of the Quad was a strange situation. It was young man with nothing on but tennis shoes and shorts. Across his mouth he had a padded leather strap and on his head a canvas aviators helmet. I didn't think much of the demonstration, then I saw Lt. Gellat and an officer pull up to him and put him in their car.
I was summoned back to headquarters to handle the case. They had put him in my office where he was pacing back and forth. Jim Carl, Yogi, and I stayed with him. He obviously didn't have it all together. He kept saying that he was a "Wild Ass."
It happened that there was an effigy of the Governor in the office, which the patrol officers had found hanging from a lamp pole earlier that morning. The goofy guy picked it up and was hugging it. We found out that he showed up to fight any demonstrators that tried to disrupt the ceremony. He was on our side. For no reason at all, he walked over and punched Yogi in the jaw. At that point we wrestled him down and tied him up. An ambulance came to take him to Harborview Hospital. As he was being carried out through quite a crowd of people in the outer office he kept yelling, "I'm a Wild Ass."
For years there was almost a daily demonstration on the campus. The University installed speakers in the trees in front of the Husky Union Building and built a small podium with microphone for speakers. It provided a platform for any person who had something to share with the crowd that usually gathered. Not all of the spectators were demonstrators some were just curious. More often than not they would do nothing but listen to the rhetoric. Our big problem came when a splinter group would peel off from the crowd and head for some place or a building.
Early in the demonstration era there appeared to be some professional agitators. They were older that the general run of people and carried signs on two by twos, which would destroy our riot batons without receiving even a dent. On one occasion a group broke off and went to the Navy ROTC Building, Clark Hall. One of the pros clubbed the Navy Commander, but we were unable to determine who it was.
At another time a splinter group attacked the Air Force ROTC. At this one we had some prior intelligence. Using photographs as evidence we were able to prosecute about six of them. As time went by the number of demonstrators got a bit smaller and were less violent. The number of demonstrations didn't decrease, however, and they still had their chant, "Ho Ho Ho Chi Minh, the Viet Cong are Gonna Win" as they marched around the campus and into whatever building was the target of the day. When they headed for the Army ROTC in the basement of Savery Hall, the cadets were on the porch and challenged them to go in if they were looking for trouble. So they turned and went elsewhere.
One place that drew a lot of attention was the Placement Center. I can't remember the name of the building [Loew Hall], but it was across the street from the HUB. Upstairs there were several small rooms where the interviewers could talk to aspiring students. The demonstrators took offense at several different employers including the Navy. Their idea was that whenever a recruiter they didn't like was in the building, they would go upstairs and trash the place.
We had several demonstrations there and, since we usually knew it was going to happen, had people there. On one occasion we managed to arrest a few that had trashed some of the brochure shelves. One of the problems we frequently had was, unbeknown to us, there were usually a few there who were on our side. It was not easy to tell them from the bad guys. They were probably ROTCs.
One day a big truck full of stones of a size perfect for throwing stopped right in front of the building because of the crowd flowing down from in front of the HUB. We thought we were in for it, but a wiser head among the students waved him on through before any stones were taken.
Another time was the famous "Bee In." The crowd was just heading down from the HUB when a flat bed truck stopped nearby and dumped some beehives onto the street. The bees seemed hell bent on stinging everyone they could. I couldn't have found a more successful way to break up a demonstration if I thought about it all day. Only two or three came up the stairs and all they were doing was shouting about "who turned loose those blankety blank bees."
It was almost hilarious, but had some repercussions. Several parents came to our office demanding to know who brought those bees onto the campus and turned them loose. We told them we had no idea who did it but were looking into the case and would let them know if we found out. We had a pretty good idea, but didn't really care very much to find out who our benefactor was.
For some reason the demonstrations were fewer on campus and settled in the U. District putting them under Seattle Police jurisdiction. However, they tended to slop over onto the campus so our department got involved. These generally took place in the evening so I had little to do with them. One night in particular there was a large demonstration on the Ave. A rather large group of Seattle Police Officers had a few drinks and decided to come to the district in plainclothes and dent a few of the protestors skulls. Most were on the lawn just north of Parrington Hall and thumping everyone who came near, since some of the action had slopped over onto University property.
Our officers parked at the south end of "A" lot and went through the bushes onto the hill. One of our officers smacked an SPD officer across the face with his baton doing considerable damage. In fact, most of the people on the campus proper were the SPD "vigilantes."
Once our troops realized the situation they backed off. But Chief Shanahan raised a fuss about the vigilantes. He was justified and, for a time, was very unpopular. A lawsuit was filed against our officer by the SPD Officer, only asking for medical expenses.
The next morning Lt. Dougherty and I scoured "A" lot and found a large cardboard box containing "Molotov Cocktails."
The University of Washington had the distinction of being the most bombed place in the country during the Vietnam War. The same people who were protesting everything and anything were usually doing this. Some bombs went off and others didn't.
One that didn't was the one placed under the Air Force ROTC by the Bissel couple. It happened that we had word they were going to plant the bomb so Joe Shea and one or two other officers were on stakeout in the building. They caught Trim and Judith Bissel before the bomb could be activated. They were arrested, but since he was an heir to the Bissel Carpet Sweeper fortune they easily made bail and disappeared. A few years later she gave herself up. Judith had separated from Trim. Then not much later, he did the same thing. I don't think either one got into a whole lot of trouble.
Another bomb that did go off one night was on the construction site of the new Architecture Building. Hardly any construction had been done when the explosion occurred. As I recall, I had just worked a basketball game and was walking behind the old Architecture Building when the bomb went off. I must have jumped a foot off the ground.
A little later Sgt. Buzz Pintler was searching the area when a second bomb exploded. It scared the pants off him, but was far enough away that no damage to him occurred. In fact, since the bomb exploded on the ground inside the site, there was no damage except for a short period of frayed nerves.
The Navy ROTC in Clark Hall was bombed one night. There was a custodian working in the building that narrowly missed getting hurt. The Students for a Democratic Society claimed responsibility for it. Actually they claimed responsibility for most of the protest activity and bombings. They were busy at other campuses around the country and got seriously involved with political conventions in some cities, going so far as to get arrested and put in jail.
The most spectacular and damaging bomb was one in the vestibule of the Administration Building. Experts determined that it took a whole case of dynamite. It blew a large hole in the floor through concrete about a foot thick exposing a room in the basement. SDS did not claim responsibility for this one, but a suspect was found. When they put him on the polygraph he was high on LSD and had been for some time. The results were inconclusive and since there was no other evidence other that the fact that he had purchased a case of dynamite, he was not held.
Lt. Rex Houghtaling, Seattle Police, and the ATF worked on this case. As a matter of fact, Rex had the dubious job of keeping track of demonstrators for the FBI. They called on the phone every day to find out what was happening. I guess J. Edgar Hoover wanted them to do this in his obsession to keep the country free of evildoers.