The Black Owl of NSA

By William Anthony Scott

Within the National Security Agency of DoD, a social organization called Black Expressions precipitated major changes in the black population workforce. Resistance to these changes caused the leadership of BE to be assigned to other organizations external to NSA. This account chronicles the first president of BE's work and travel for N

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gnome Book Writing
• Release date: Jan 4, 2023
• ISBN: 9781958400241

Book preview

AN UNTOLD CHRONICLE WORKING FOR NSA

This is the true story of my work with the US National Security Agency. An important part—and a fundamental part—of the story is the formulation of a small group of Black employees who formed an organization to address and call attention to the agency’s intolerance and social privilege over the biases and underprivileged as NSA was undergoing major changes to its clandestine operations. That period was from the early sixties, the seventies, and eighties to the mid-nineties. The organization—called Black Expressions (B.E.)—started in April 1979 and only lasted a few years. It was eventually consumed into the agency’s Equal Employment Opportunity (EEO) office, but its impact on the agency slowly yet steadily changed the attitude and culture of all NSAers. Because of BE, Black, Indigenous, and people of color (BIPOC), as well as lesbians, gays, bisexuals, and transgender individuals, were gradually being considered for higher positions of leadership commensurate with NSA’s expanding mission. BE was a catalyst for change as these populations of employees were forever showing up and showing out in the face of overwhelming odds.

The narrative highlights the actions of one individual who started out as nothing yet achieved much as he experienced and bored the inbred ills of the American culture at the highest level of government while working in the signals intelligence community.

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DEDICATION

This writing is dedicated to all the Black employees, who quietly dedicated their lives to helping the National Security Agency to function, expand, and contribute to the safety and well-being of our country. Being unable to talk about who they worked for, what they were doing, or even where they worked (under the oath of secrecy) took a heavy toll on their psyche, but none as heavy as the absence of a mere acknowledgment of their contributions to the welfare and safety of the growing intelligence community. As with the history of the United States, people of color always showed up, doing the mundane but vital work that enabled operations to succeed and technological advancements to be achieved. The motto of Black Expressions—Destined to do; together we can—spoke to a patriotism seldom recognized or appreciated. We Blacks have a long history of accepting this kind of treatment, yet we still show up and show out. We kept quiet, knowing that our children and their children would someday reap the benefits of living in a society that was evolving toward a more perfect union. And we envisioned the next generations eventually being the movers and shakers. An unseen arbitrator guided the activities recounted in this book. This arbitrator is otherworldly forever, even so, subtlety engaging and controlling the events.

TABLE OF ConTents

An Untold Chronicle Working For NSA

Acknowledgements

Introduction

Chapter 01 | Recollections From My Son Tony

Chapter 02 | Black Expressions’ Impact

Chapter 03 | Restructuring

Chapter 04 | Reassignment To B Group

Chapter 05 | Black Expressions

Chapter 06 | Inspector General’s Scrutiny

Chapter 07 | National Reconnaissance Office

Bibliography

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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

The writing of this narrative was suggested by my nephews, Mark Abrams and Kwame Guy, and all four of my adult children, Kevin, Sharon, Tony, and Garland.  They all knew who and where I worked, but not what I did.  It had been a big joke in my large family to say, If Uncle Billy told you what he did, he would have to shoot and kill you or jail/lock you up for knowing too much of the classified information. Those views covered a lot of people for years.

Being convinced to write about ‘what I did’ for such a long time came from those discussions.  I had just finished my ninth book (Mixtus-American: A different brand of Christianity where we still practice griot), and Mark was developing a trailer for it, using those mentioned above to read portions of my other eight books. I acknowledge their pushing me to go over my experience working for NSA.

I would also like to acknowledge Barbara Crampton for sending me pictures and long-forgotten articles about the ‘black expressions’ experience in NSA. She was one of the nine mentioned in the book who was sent away from the agency for her involvement with Black Expressions. And the other eight members of BE are mentioned in this narrative, particularly Kester Kemp and Al Rich, who spearheaded the very start of BE, birthing the culture change of the agency for people of color.

Finally, let me acknowledge my wife, Audrey, and my mother-in-law, Shirley Murphy, for enduring the long, long hours of me writing at my dining room table, disrupting house sleep, lunch, supper time, and even Sunday church service. And last, my youngest special needs daughter who seem to scream whenever I went to my laptop, answered the phone, or talked with my program manager about the progress of the book publication.  I owe all of them an attitude of gratitude - the heart of appreciation.

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Introduction

This account is being told from one point of view: mine. It begins with me as a child, growing up in Eastwick, a unique neighborhood in Southwest Philadelphia, where being Black was not an obstacle. As a result, I never harbored any deep-seated hatred for those who would eventually subject me to blatant racism and white supremacy. I was aware of these dangers from my mother and grandmother and was put on alert by my older brothers and sisters—their collective advice was to always remember who you are. Still, I never experienced racism as I grew up. Our family was Episcopalian, but Eastwick, or Ellenwood as it was called by those of us who lived there, had nearly every Christian denomination as well as a Jewish synagogue and a Nation of Islam Mosque. There were tensions, but never on a large scale.

When I joined the Air Force, I was sent to Sampson Air Force Base (AFB), in Geneva, New York, for basic training. Afterward, I attended tech school at Keesler AFB in Biloxi, Mississippi. I was treated like all the other young airmen. Nevertheless, I challenged the Jim Crow laws by deliberately dancing with white girls during USO events on base—a brash, foolish, and unwise action in a hostile environment. I was even kicked off a Greyhound bus heading to New Orleans for refusing to go to the back of the bus. When I safely arrived back on base, I was directed not to leave again without permission. After completing tech school, I was escorted to the train station and boarded the train heading for Scott Air Force Base, in Belville, Illinois, for cryptologic training. From there, I was transferred to my first permanent change of station at Goose Bay Air Base in Newfoundland, Canada. From Goose Bay, I was transferred to Lockbourne AFB, outside Columbus, Ohio.

When I showed up at Lockbourne, my childhood buddy since first grade, Sidney Robinson, was also stationed there. He was a medic working in the on-base hospital.

Come on, Boo, let’s go to Columbus and hit a few clubs, he said. Columbus is a lively little town with great entertainment. There’s one bar on the north side that has a great female singer. She’s good. I know you like singing, Boo—you can sing rather well yourself. I remember when you sang at Saint Paul’s Church on 86th and Bartram.

Yeah, and I was shaking all over. If it hadn’t been for Margie urging me on, my voice would have cracked even before one note came out. With so many people, especially the ladies, looking down my throat, I was terrorized.

Sid kept reminding me of that event, which had happened when I was about thirteen or fourteen. Saint Paul’s was packed with the Women’s Auxiliary annual tea luncheon. Margie Harris, my heartthrob, was scheduled to sing first. We both had decided to sing two songs by Mario Lanza. Margie sang the Lord’s Prayer. It was simply beautiful. Her voice was soft yet strong at every shift in tone. When she finished, the ladies could not stop clapping. Mrs. Ivery, the head of the auxiliary, had to quiet the ladies down. She quickly introduced me to the well-dressed, churchgoing ladies. I sang ‘I’ll Walk with God’ as best I could. Sid, who was peeping through the doors of the church kitchen, heard me singing and forgot where he was. His mother, Mrs. Robinson, spotted him and signaled for him to leave quickly. It became a major subject of discussion at the Robinsons’ house. We often laugh at his mother’s reaction to his peeping.

Boo, you and Margie sang them songs. I mean, you really sang ‘I’ll Walk with God’ as good as Mario Lanza.

Come on, Sid, let’s be real! That was five years ago. Come on, man. I know what you’re trying to do. I don’t want you to try and make me sing in the bar. You know how I’ve got to really gather the courage to stand up to sing. Let’s just go and see this lady without you trying to engage me, OK?

Ok, Boo, Sid said, relenting for the moment.

When we went got to the bar, a guy named Rusty Bryant and his band was being featured. Bryant was playing some smooth jazz songs.

Boo, you’ll like this guy, Sid told me. He’s a good alto sax player. I know you like jazz over fatback music. That’s why I brought you here.

Is the girl singer a part of his band? I asked.

I think so, said Sid. She’ll be coming on after Rusty introduces her.

Bryant spoke from the stage. In this set, I want everyone to just sit back and enjoy this fine young lady’s mellow voice. She’s a newcomer, but her voice will resonate with your inner soul like Ella, or Sarah, and even Billie. I don’t want you to clap until after she has blessed you with her first song. Folks, meet Miss Nancy Sue Wilson.

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Image 1: Nancy Wilson

I was stunned by her voice. She was about five-foot-seven and couldn’t have weighed more than 110 pounds. She looked like an olive brown, beautiful baby doll. For such a skinny and frail lady, her voice thundered out like Marian Anderson in a classical operetta.

Sid was assigned to Yokota AB in Japan. He married a Japanese woman, had three children, left the Air Force, and became a longshoreman in Philadelphia. Sid was a six-foot-three, 260-pound, barrel-shaped man with a contagious happy attitude. He was known for drinking an entire case of beer on a lunch break or immediately after work, which I believe was the cause of his death—he was one of my closest and dearest friends.

While I was in Columbus, I met and married my first wife, Shirley Covington. Before leaving Lockbourne, we had two children: Kevin and Sharon. My small family of three traveled with me wherever I went in the Air Force.

I re-upped for four more years in the Air Force because now I had a family to support. I was transferred from Lockbourne to Westover AFB, Massachusetts, and from there to Okinawa, Japan. I became a member of a unique command in the Air Force: Security Service (USAFSS). The USAFSS had a communications intelligence (COMINT), signals intelligence (SIGINT), and communications security (COMSEC) mission that was live and ongoing, and which was vital to our nation’s security. The command had provided more than 85 percent of the usable intelligence coming from the NSA, of which the Security Service was the largest component. I took my small family with me to Okinawa and stayed for four years; my third child was born there.

I was assigned to the 6927th Radio Squadron Mobile at Onna Point. I became familiar with the growing signals intelligence apparatus of the Air Force intel community. I coached and played basketball, winning the Kadena base championship. I also put together a talent show that toured all the military facilities on Okinawa—a way to boost morale. In Onna Village, I helped build a rudimentary track field for the local elementary school children. With the help of Army personnel, who ran a close-by Project Nike site, we bulldozed the track field, had our first set of track meets, and celebrated with all the local Okinawans.

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Image 2: Radio Squadron Mobile at Onna Point

The clearing of the field also got rid of the habu snakes that had plagued the village for years. Okinawa was famous for its deadly snakes. The largest and most feared was the habu, a very aggressive snake. We were forever being attacked by them as we cleared the field. They were so aggressive that they attacked even the bulldozer. Luckily, no one got bit. I had to warn my three toddler children not to play near tall bushes in our living quarters. Somehow, we all left Okinawa safe and sound.

From Okinawa, I was transferred to Darmstadt, Germany, assigned to the 6910th Security Wing of the Security Service. I was assigned to D Trick, working around the clock (days, swings, and mids—three days on and three days off). I became the coach of D Trick basketball team, competing against A, B, and C Trick. We won two championships. I also managed the youth athletics program for military families at Darmstadt. I stayed in Germany for three years, traveling to many countries in Europe. For me, it was further exposure to the growing collection efforts of the Air Force’s SIGINT mission. From Germany, I was assigned to Fort Meade, Maryland, the home of NSA and its worldwide communication network and in-house complex. After ten years of growing up in the Air Force, the real start of my career in the intelligence community started at the office of the director of NSA.

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Chapter 01 | RECOLLECTIONS FROM MY SON, TONY

During this time, my three children grew strong and bright. Taking on the moods, views, and opinions I had acquired from my mom, grandmom, other family members, outstanding leaders in the Air Force, and the changing world around us, my children were exposed to the best I could offer them. And yet I also shielded them, as