72 AMERICAN SPYThis was possibly an indelicate nod toward my Italian heritage, but
it was sound advice nonetheless. I studied, sat for, and passed the DC bar
exam, then reported for duty as a CIA CT in October 1983. I was twenty-
four years old, and I was never more ready for anything in my life.By about age fourteen, I was practically preordained to become a CIA officer,
even though I knew next to nothing about the agency. By the time I graduated
law school ten years later, I was a solid candidate for CIA employment: I had a
relatively unremarkable background and lifestyle, and had demonstrated some
willingness and ability to take calculated risks to achieve objectives in foreign
lands. I nurtured a genuine curiosity about the world around me and thor-
oughly enjoyed becoming immersed in foreign cultures and languages. The
CIA apparently concluded I could be trusted to operate independently and
keep my cool under pressure, and could be counted on to exercise sound judg-
ment when off on a solo mission. The CIA also valued my ability to develop
rapport and work well with people from all walks of life, from migrant farm
workers to members of Congress, and everyone in between.
I joined the CIA at a good time in its history. The Office of Strategic
Services (OSS) veteran William Casey was CIA director, and he embodied
the OSS derring-do spirit. Like the OSS before it, the CIA tended to attract
those who had a real disdain for bureaucracy but still wanted to serve their
country. As they (and I) would find out in the future, I definitely fit the old
OSS stereotype. Unlike the OSS and early CIA, however, the CIA in the
1980s no longer recruited most of its new officers solely from the WASP-y
ranks of Ivy League universities. Lucky for me.
I believe the CIA also assessed me as someone who could comfortably and
unobtrusively blend in almost anywhere. Years later, it occurred to me that
although I could survive better than most Americans anywhere on earth, the
flip side is I also don’t completely fit in anywhere. Even at home. (The CIA’s
psychiatrist would have had a field day with that gratuitous bit of introspection.)
By the time I showed up on the CIA’s doorstep, I was just what they
were looking for: a person they could trust, train, and confidently deploy
abroad, who no one would ever suspect exactly what he was up to.