public posturing about the shah by those who control or influence public opinion here, I doubt that the shah being ill would have much ameliorating effect on the degree of reaction here.” In the next sentence he slightly backed off that assertion. “It would presumably make our own position more defensible if we were seen to admit him under demonstrably humanitarian conditions.” In other words: they won’t like it but, if it is well handled, the effect shouldn’t be catastrophic.
It was one of several factors that weighed in favor of allowing the shah to come to New York for surgery. In October, Carter had polled his top advisers on the question, and most of them supported letting the shah in.
“What are you guys going to advise me to do if they overrun our embassy and take our people hostage?” asked the president. No one had answered.
The embassy had braced itself for the worst. Just three days earlier, fearing violent demonstrations, Laingen had ordered all nonessential personnel off the compound and had placed the entire complement of embassy marines on alert. But the protests, which turned out an estimated two million people at nearby Tehran University, had resulted in nothing more than some additional spray-painted graffiti on the compound walls. Friday and Saturday, the Iranian weekend, had been calm, and that Sunday morning there was a palpable sense of relief in the building, the sense that they had weathered the worst.
In its heyday the embassy staff had numbered nearly a thousand; now it was down to just over sixty. Even in its stripped-down state it remained a complex enterprise with scores of objectives and tasks. Laingen and his small political and economics sections were busily trying to give Washington fresh insight into current conditions in the country. The defense attache and newly organized military liaison staff were sifting through what remained of the two countries’ long-standing defense ties, and the small staff of information officers had begun the challenging task of convincing Iran that America was not the enemy. The consular section was coping with a flood tide of applications for visas from the substantial number of Iranians who needed no convincing—a line a quarter of a mile long had begun forming days before the new consulate opened that summer. There was the small CIA presence at the embassy, three officers who were trying to make sense of shifting conditions and to make friends with anyone close to the new centers of power. Administering the compound, buildings, and employees, managing security operations and the embassy’s commissary, was a big job with scores of employees, many of them Iranian. In the mix were foreign service officers concerned with cultural ties, some of them working on site and others scattered around Tehran. It was a busy mission, like that of any large country with wide-ranging interests. The faces in Laingen’s conference room represented all of the facets of this ongoing effort, serious professionals who in some cases had been doing their jobs in one country or another for decades.
Malcolm Kalp, a CIA officer who had arrived only four days before, told the group of meeting with David Rockefeller shortly before he had left the States. Rockefeller had been one of the powerful Americans who, along with former Secretary of State Henry Kissinger, had lobbied hard for President Carter to admit the shah. Kalp said that Rockefeller had told him, “I hope I haven’t caused you all too many problems.” From around Laingen’s conference table came the laugh of the powerless. Clearly this group lacked the clout to compete with the combined influence of Kissinger and Rockefeller, and the latter’s belated words of concern for them rang hollow. But few in this room felt bitter about it. Most of those now stationed in Tehran, especially professionals like Limbert, Tomseth, Metrinko, CIA station chief Tom Ahern, and his two officers, Kalp and Bill Daugherty, as well as the military liaisons and aides, were comfortable with risk. Some were motivated by patriotism, some by ambition, and some, especially the lower-level State Department communicators and staffers, for the danger pay—Tehran was a 25 percent differential post, meaning one earned a full fourth more than the usual pay. For some it was a chance to escape a failing marriage or family obligations that had become too onerous. Many of them were in Tehran precisely because they sought exotic or dangerous postings. The tension created esprit among those who could rise above it; it made everyone’s job seem all the more vital and rare. Yet not everyone could rise above it.
Some of those in this room periodically approached youthful, muscular Al Golacinski, the embassy’s security chief, to ask for his assessment of the risk, weighing whether to stay on or quit and clear out. He was always reassuring. Golacinski felt they had turned the corner. After the violent February invasion, the compound had been patrolled for months by a band of roguish local gunmen whom he had finally managed to ease out. Anxiety remained, but he felt events were coming under control. Golacinski expected continued demonstrations and thought there might even be occasional, isolated assassination attempts—a German diplomat had been gunned down in Tehran weeks earlier. But these were low-percentage risks. He personally assured everyone who asked that another invasion was unlikely and advised them to ride it out. To buttress his argument he made a point of keeping up a brave, confident front.
Just that morning he had averted a potential showdown. A local
Limbert then talked about his trip south, promising a more complete written report, and the discussion turned to the “Students Day” demonstration planned for that morning. Some of those present thought that the embassy should be closed for the day to avoid trouble, but others argued against it. Tomseth wanted to keep the embassy open.
“If we close the embassy down every time there’s a demonstration in Tehran we would be closing down just about every day,” he said.
This opinion prevailed. There was some debate over whether to acknowledge the day of official mourning by flying the Stars and Stripes at half-mast before the chancery, and it was decided not to do so. In light of the attempt to steal the flag off the pole, lowering it halfway might tempt another try. Golacinski briefed the meeting on what to expect. There was already a crowd of about 150 to 200 people outside Roosevelt Gate, and they had been peaceful so far. The big rally was expected to draw together various rival elements among the revolutionary student groups, the more numerous religious conservatives from various universities around the city, and the smaller but better-organized leftists who were centered mostly at the University of Tehran. Because the street out front led directly to the university, large crowds of students marching toward the rally would be passing by the embassy all morning, which would mean more noise and the usual chanting and nastiness. Still, Golacinski said, the protest “is not aimed at us.”
To Iranians, Aban the thirteenth had an additional significance that went unnoted by the American staff. It was the fifteenth anniversary of the day the shah had exiled the Ayatollah Khomeini.
Laingen concluded the meeting by announcing that he had an appointment at the Foreign Ministry that morning, so he and Tomseth would be away for a few hours. Golacinski advised his assistant, Howland, who would accompany Laingen to the Ministry, to avoid streets around the University of Tehran on their way.
As he walked back down the corridor to his office, Limbert decided against visiting the barber. It would keep him from his office for several hours and he didn’t feel right getting a haircut on government time. Instead, he would start writing up his report of the trip.
Michael Metrinko was just arriving for work. He ignored the larger-than-usual crowd outside the east-side entrance. The protests were often worse later in the morning. Metrinko was a night owl and was customarily one of the last to show up. He did his real work after hours, meeting with Iranians, eating, drinking, smoking, and talking, trying to figure things out. As he saw it, that’s what his job was about. And what a fascinating job it was.
For a student of politics, being in Tehran just then was like being a geologist camped on the rim of an active volcano. Iran had gone temporarily insane. Revolution gives ordinary people the false belief that they can remake not just themselves, their country, and the whole wide world but human nature itself. That such grand designs always fail, that human nature is immutable, that everyone’s idea of perfection is different—these truths are all for a time forgotten. Those in the grip of righteousness saw the opportunity—no, the
