LIVING THE NIGHTMARE

They are conspicuous in a crowd.

Athletically built, they range from youthful to middleaged. The younger men favor wide lapels and flared trousers, the older ones dress more conservatively. But they have a common trait. Their eyes are constantly in motion, scanning the people who have come to see the President. Sometimes they wear sunglasses even in cloudy weather. That way they can watch the crowds without anyone knowing precisely where they are looking.

They are members of the White House detail of the U.S. Secret Service, an elite corps within an elite agency. Highly trained professionals, they are obsessed by the urgency of their mission: the protection of just one man, the President of the United States. But that man is almost invariably a gregarious person, anxious to mingle with his constituents, a man who jets about the country and the globe with exasperating frequency, a man agonizingly difficult to keep out of danger. The Secret Service has about 3,600 employees, including 1,380 actual agents; 63 field offices, including its Washington headquarters; and an annual budget of $85 million, more than ten times as great as at the time of President Kennedy's assassination. A good portion of these resources is dedicated--all of the time or part of the time--to the President's protection. Yet, as recent events have demonstrated, the elaborate precautions do not always work.

Fundamental to the Service's operations is what it calls "protective research"--the evaluation and handling of potential threats to the President's safety. Each year the Service looks into some 200,000 bits of information--including 1,000 out-and-out threats--that are somehow linked to presidential security. About 4,000 suspects are interviewed, some 300 people posing potential danger are located, and some 60 arrests are made. The Service also continually updates its master list of 38,000 people who, in the words of Director H. Stuart Knight, "have a propensity for violence."

Before the President makes a trip, several agents from the White House detail act as advancemen. The President's route is carefully mapped out; overpasses and underpasses along the way will be closed when he arrives and patrolled by armed policemen. Traffic along the route will be halted to permit the presidential limousine to travel at speeds discouraging to snipers. The agents also consult with local lawmen about individuals in the area who pose security risks; some of these names appear on the Service's master potential-assassin list. The advance team may ask police plainclothesmen or Secret Servicemen from the nearest field office to place such suspects under surveillance. Hotel employees the President might come in contact with are carefully checked out, as are the kitchens where his food will be prepared. The agents make sure that hospitals in the area have an ample supply of blood of the President's type.

hen Air Force One touches down at the airport, the half a dozen or so agents aboard alight first and are met at the ramp by a platoon of their colleagues. (The size of a White House detail--always a closely kept secret--varies from occasion to occasion.) The President's limousine, driven by an agent, awaits him at the ramp. The chief of the detail rides next to the driver; the President, usually with an adviser or a local dignitary, sits in back. Directly behind the President's car is the "Queen Mary," an open car with running boards and hand grips along the sides. Five agents and the President's personal physician occupy the seats, with an additional agent, an Israeli-made Uzi submachine gun at his feet, riding in a jump seat and looking to the rear. As many as four agents sometimes ride on the running boards.

When the motorcade reaches its destination, usually six agents from the Queen Mary rush to form a human shield around the President as he emerges from his limousine. Sometimes they use a "flying wedge" technique to shove themselves and the Chief Executive through a swarm of people. There are also at least a dozen agents positioned along the President's walking route keeping a wary eye on the crowd. If the President is headed for an indoor location, other Secret Servicemen with electronic devices reinspect the room for bugs or bombs.

All the agents carry .357 Magnum revolvers in shoulder holsters. They keep in constant touch via powerful short-wave walkie-talkies; to keep both hands free at all times, they wear earpieces, transceivers on their belts, and tiny microphones at their wrists. The working style of the agents immediately guarding the President tends to reflect his own personality. Kennedy's agents were alert but relatively inconspicuous and, like their charge, showed a fondness for the good life. Johnson's entourage tended to be tenser and more belligerent, sometimes silencing hecklers with flying tackles. The Secret Servicemen surrounding Nixon were characteristically aloof and well organized. Today's White House detail is outwardly relaxed and amiable, preferring gentle persuasion to brute force.

What manner of man becomes a Secret Service agent? The job requires an inordinate amount of risk and dedication; the hours are dreadful; the pay --soon to be $22,000 on the average --not extraordinary. Nor can an agent gain any glamour by discussing his work: it is, quite plainly, secret. The allure is there, however. There are always more applicants than jobs, and the Service's annual turnover rate is a remarkably low 3.8%.

There are few basic requirements for the job. Applicants--there are now a few women among them--must be 21, graduates of a four-year institution and in excellent physical condition. Aspirants take the Treasury law enforcement entrance examinations, which test powers of observation along with basic knowledge. The highest scorers are tapped by the Service as vacancies occur and start at salaries ranging from $8,500 to $10,520 a year, depending on their prior experience. Recruits take a basic two-month course in criminology, surveillance and firearms use at a former military camp in Georgia. Next come another two months of schooling in Washington and suburban Beltsville, Md., to learn the specialized skills of the Service.

Almost all rookie agents start out in one of the field offices, where the work centers on catching counterfeiters and forgers. (Created in 1865 to stem the tide of bogus "greenbacks," the Service is still an arm of the Treasury.) Some are later selected for the Protection Division, which is responsible for the safety of the President, the Vice President and their families, ex-Presidents and theirs, the Secretary of State and presidential candidates during campaigns. A number of agents with special skills come in especially handy and often have fun to boot--skiing alongside Ford, for example. On the other hand, guarding Mamie Eisenhower from midnight to 8 a.m. (the Government spent $472,000 on her protection last year) can be a mind-numbing chore.

In general, a presidential agent's life is grueling. Recalls a member of Lyndon Johnson's detail: "Physically it is very tiring, not only the long, hard days but the changing shifts. By the time the body gets accustomed to one shift you change to another. Also, I was gone about 60% of the time--and that's got to be hard on a family. It's a young man's game."

Surprisingly, the Service reports that the divorce rate among agents is no higher than in the population at large.

There are other problems, too, more significant than personal ones. Though agents are assigned to protect, not serve the President, recalls a onetime Secret Serviceman: "You do what the man says." Occasionally, "the man" has asked a friendly agent to babysit for his child or carry his wife's packages; that, at times, can interfere with an agent's professional responsibilities. Under Richard Nixon, the Secret Service was criticized for being too accommodating and tapping the phone of F. Donald Nixon, the President's brother.

The Service also approved, under pressure from Nixon's aides, valuable additions to his various homes for security measures that were of questionable merit.

More recently, the Service has found its investigative capabilities hampered by congressional scrutiny of possible abuses by the CIA and FBI. Forced to be more sensitive to the civil rights of citizens, it pruned its list of potentially violent Americans from 47,000 to the present 38,000. Some agents are said to be skittish of placing a suspect under surveillance, fearing the repercussions of being overzealous. At the same time, however, the Service is now being urged to clamp a tighter aegis over the President. "With criticism coming from both sides," Director Knight asked recently, "how are we to know where to strike the proper balance?"

In the end, it is the sheer frustration inescapably built into the job that is the Secret Serviceman's greatest burden. Agents are fully prepared to do anything to protect the President--even to lay down their lives. Richard Keiser, chief of the present White House detail, bears a rough resemblance to President Ford; when asked if he thought he could ever be shot by mistake, he replied, "I hope so." Nonetheless, all agents are acutely aware that there is simply no way to ensure that a President who comes in frequent contact with his fellow Americans can be utterly free from harm. And no man wants to be on the detail that allowed the President to be shot. As Director Knight observed recently, protecting the President is "a living nightmare in a democracy."

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so viewer discretion is required.