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At 7:30 on a fall evening in 1998, the Board of Directors reconvened in the office of attorney Manny Turnbull. In fact, Turnbull was barely an attorney at that juncture, having gone into virtual retirement after a career played in law’s big league. He maintained a downtown office partly to avoid a feeling of atrophy, partly because Mrs. Turnbull insisted on space. They called themselves the Board of Directors with tongue in cheek. They were the senior members of a loose-knit Chicago area investment club, and the first to recognize the speculative insanity within the dot-com revolution. So they met regularly, partly to analyze new entrants in the dot-com race, mostly because they needed something to do. Each month they cranked out a newsletter summarizing their conclusions—total circulation thirty-four. An eclectic group joined Turnbill around the cherry wood conference table that night: Katie Kapsalis, a retired Securities and Exchange investigator; Theresa “Tess” Montgomery, formerly an Atlanta-based actress and TV personality; Clint Vasey, a commercial real estate developer; and Sky Kendall, a long-ago professional basketball player, now retired from a second career in banking. The session had been a typical combination of analysis and banter until Manny Turnbull said, “I ran into J.W. Patterson last week.” “What’s the reclusive Mr. Patterson up to, nowadays?” asked Katie Kapsalis. “Wishing he weren’t quite so reclusive,” replied Turnbull. “He asked me to do a little work on a foundation he set up in his wife’s name.” “Is that the computer guy?” asked Tess Montgomery. “That’s surely him,” said Sky Kendall. “Sold his Patterson TechnoSystems to a Dutch conglomerate—what, a year or so ago?” “Something like that,” said Turnbull. “What would you think of asking him to join us?” “Would he even consider it?” asked Clint Vasey. “I think so. He’s looking for projects—and maybe a little human contact.” Sky Kendall smiled. “Well, you know he’d bring new perspectives. I move we extend an invitation to Mr. Patterson.” The motion passed unanimously; five thumbs up in their informal voting system.
He joined them two weeks later: a man of above average height whose silver-gray hair and deeply lined face suggested a life stressfully lived. During introductions, he greeted cordially but peppered the five with questions about their backgrounds—almost as if, even then, assessing the strengths and weaknesses of his new team. The group assigned a direct-delivery grocery company as Patterson’s initial research assignment. A week later, he distributed a twenty-page report, removed his suit jacket, rolled up his sleeves, and delivered the first stand-up presentation in the Board’s history, sometimes prowling, sometimes leaning forward on the table. He wrapped up, jaw thrust forward, dark blue eyes blazing. “The American free enterprise system makes it perfectly legal for idiots to execute bad ideas. But this idea is so patently absurd that fraud is the only explanation. The founders and investment bankers that put this damn thing together should be locked up.” As Patterson stalked back to his seat, Manny Turnbull said, “You need to learn, J.W., that we’re a group that speaks frankly. Why don’t you tell us what you really think?” Patterson barely cracked a smile. “Sorry, Manny. I’m a free enterprise guy, but this kind of crap should be ground into the dust.” During his third session, J.W. Patterson said, “I don’t think you folks have grasped the power of what we’re doing here. We’re retired people with talent, energy, and resources. There is corruption all over this country threatening the core values of our economic system. If we did it right, we could make a real difference.” Katie Kapsalis sparked immediately. “I’ve thought about that, but from a different angle. Too much of today’s business regulation is run by politicians who never played the game.” Patterson said, “Let me spend a month up at Eagle Harbor. I’ll put together a plan for your consideration.”
When he returned, J.W. Patterson distributed ring-bound copies of a two-hundred-page roadmap. He delivered his summary while roaming the front of the conference room, occasionally referencing data projected on the wall screen. “The objective is straightforward. To find, expose, and eliminate corrupt business practices. But the approach is, to my knowledge, unique. Our core group operates in complete secrecy.” “So you’re talking about undercover investigations?” asked Manny Turnbull. “Much of the time,” replied Patterson. “I got some help from a journalist friend who likened the concept to investigative journalism without the newspaper.” “So how would we tell our story?” asked Katie Kapsalis. “We become expert at clandestine delivery of information: to the news media, to law enforcement and regulatory agencies. We give them actionable information; they respect our anonymity.” “Why the secrecy?” asked Manny Turnbull. “Several reasons. We maintain an element of surprise. We avoid the injunctions or lawsuits that might slow us down. Individually, we avoid the chance that enemies come after our personal wealth.” “How large is the core group?” asked Tess Montgomery. “I visualize nine, selected by talent, all retired.” “Why retired?” asked Sky Kendall. “Skill. Savvy. Commitment. And the fires of ambition have been fed. There are possibilities for grandstanding in this concept, even bribery and corruption. We can’t have that, obviously.” “No offense,” said Katie Kapsalis,” but isn’t a senior group limited in scope, if we’re talking undercover investigations?” “That’s covered in the section called Scouts. I worked with a young woman at TechnoSystems who would be ideal to build a field investigative team.” Manny Turnbull snapped his fingers. “I’ve got our name. It has to be Gray Ghosts, Inc.” Although the least gray of the group, Tess Montgomery caught the pun immediately. She shifted to a syrupy drawl. “Why, I like that very much, Mr. Turnbull. You’re recallin’ our beloved Colonel Mosby, I do believe.” Turnbull nodded. “Right. John Mosby pioneered guerilla warfare. Union soldiers said his raiders appeared as if formed by the mist, struck, and vanished.” The group realized that implementation would involve major commitments of time and energy, perhaps money. They set a meeting for the following Monday, where a stop-or-go decision would be made. On Sunday, Clint Vasey sent a group e-mail indicating that upcoming travel plans precluded his participation. He wished them well. As the remaining five shared experiences and concerns, they found unanimous outrage about the impact of corruption on America’s economy and value system. They asked themselves whether their attitudes were obsolete, old-fashioned, even plodding in a world in which greed could fuel rapid economic growth. No, they decided emphatically. Corruption must never replace ingenuity and hard work as young peoples’ perceived avenue to business success. Katie Kapsalis cast her positive vote based entirely on the chance to crusade for justice. The matronly but tough-as-nails Kapsalis had lived a life painted black and white by a father and grandfather who served in law enforcement. Manny Turnbull, their diminutive barrister, talked about his ongoing fight against depression—a heavy cloud that had descended, almost from the evening of his retirement party. He also admitted to defending both good and evil during his career, and joked, “Hopefully a cause this noble might earn me a few points upstairs, when it’s time to move on.” The eternally raven-haired Tess Montgomery was a widow-too-soon who loved the idea of working closely with people she respected and enjoyed. And she could visualize the possibility of dusting off her acting skills. Sky Kendall, black, six-ten, and still in great physical shape, was a fierce competitor who saw a chance to develop new skills, and to play an ongoing game, jousting with the unscrupulous. J.W. Patterson wrapped up. “More than you would imagine, I appreciate your asking me to be here. My try at wilderness seclusion was a disaster. I need to do something, to build something. I promised Meg that good things would happen with our money, but my role is passive in fields like cancer research. This concept is perfect. No spotlight—I’m done with spotlights—but we can dive in deep; and do some real good.” Each participant indicated willingness to support the effort financially, although J.W. Patterson insisted on providing the bulk of necessary funding. They raised five thumbs, and Gray Ghosts, Inc. was born.
Over the next nineteen months, they implemented the roadmap, including creation of a separately staffed non-profit organization located in the Sears Tower. The high-profile Citizens for an Honest America collected consumer complaints from around the country, channeling information to the core group, which operated from a carefully concealed facility on LaGrange Avenue. Predictably, J.W. Patterson emerged as leader, although the original four maintained what they called voting rights. And a bright and vivacious twenty-nine year old named Darlene Forrester set about building the Scout team.
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Excerpt: Accidental Soldiers |
