Above: A mild flirtation.

April, 1968. Central Intelligence Director Richard Helms and Secretary of State Dean Rusk warn President Johnson that Nash is getting too close to blowing the lid off of MKULTRA. Helms recommends termination. Nash flees his office in Washington D.C. and establishes several bases of operation in covert locations -- a number of motel rooms in rural areas and an exquisitely designed apartment in Vienna with floor-to-ceiling windows and several expensive modern art paintings of questionable authorship.


Above: One of Nash's (probably fake) Jackson Pollock pieces.

While in the U.S., Nash works through a list of contacts, coming across Andy Sturdevant, a secretary to Richard W. Held in the Los Angeles FBI office. Nash is initially reluctant; no one seems sure what side of the current COINTELPRO operation Sturdevant is on; (if any -- Sturdevant is known simply as an addict to covert operations of any sort).


Above left: Sturdevant minutes before strangling an informant whose fashion accessory choice had been dreadful.
Above right: Sturdevant hunts communists in Virginia's inaccurately named Red Park. Note the impeccable style, even though the action yeilded no positive results.

Intrigued, Nash agrees to meet with the unpredictable Sturdevant and learns of the so-called Sturdevant Effect, which is widely regarded as the main cause of the death of Frank Olson during MKULTRA LSD testing.



(Sturdevant had been responsible for uncovering some of the more hidden properties LSD, including powerful effect on mammalian uterine contractions.) While it was assumed that Olson had leapt from his window, Sturdevant notes inconsistencies in the autopsy findings.




Nash and Sturdevant quickly begin work to uncover the truth behind the CIA's efforts to control the human mind. Sturdevant enlists the help of Dr. Pierre Fink --who had gained notoriety by assisting two other doctors in the JFK autopsy-- to determine whether or not Olson has been assassinated by elements within the government. Rusk and Helms discover Sturdevant's complicity in Nash's rogue activity, as well as the medical undertaking of his own in the Olson case. Sturdevant flees for a safehouse in Berlin and composes a coded Telex to Nash's base of operations in a roadside motel outside Savannah, Georgia.


Above: Room "zero four" in the motel was used by Nash for many years and for many purposes.


The "Sturdevant Telex" has since been destroyed, but is widely believed to have been primarily composed of catty, rambling complaints about Richard Helms' handsome Italian suits. Nash generally attributes the cryptic content of the document to after-effects of LSD and petty sartorial jealousy.


Above: One of Helms' handsome Italian suits.

At the Sleep Rite Motel in Pritchardville GA, Nash becomes paranoid. He is convinced that his room is bugged, and that undercover operatives have laced his free ice with sodium penathol. The constant presence of Dean Rusk's baby pictures flashing on the television set does not assuage his fears.


Above: the alarming televised baby pictures in question.

Meanwhile, in Berlin, Sturdevant is asked to judge the 3rd Annual Miss Black Ops Pageant. He and a panel of judges consisting of Bobby Darin, Sid Caesar and Special Assistant for National Security Affairs Walt W. Rostow choose Miss Operation Paperclip as the winner.


Above: the pageant in Berlin.

"That sumbitch."

April, 1968. Johnson is briefed by Rusk and Defense Secretary Robert McNamara on "that sumbitch" Nash. Richard Helms is sent out for tacos. Johnson makes a number of sadistic jokes at Helms' expense as he leaves the White House briefing room, warning him not to spill mild sauce on "his naws suit."


Helms exits the White House and stops in at his favorite taco stand: Karina's, on L Street. In a fit of wounded dandy-ish pride, he contemplates lacing Johnson's fajita with leftover LSD from MKULTRA.


Helms stops off for a haircut on the way back to the White House. Johnson is growing furious. His status is upgraded from "hongry" to "damn hongry." Rusk suspects the fajitas are growing cold sitting in Helms' car.


Back in the safe house, Nash has a vivid dream about a walk-in freezer filled with fajitas. He has been keeping a fantastic dream journal for the benefit of his psychiatrist, a kindly ex-Nazi that, unbeknowest to Nash, had treated Frank Olson. He is eager to see what the doctor will make of this dream of cold Mexican food.

The New Chef

During Nash's next analysis, the ex-Nazi psychiatrist places him in a deep hypnotic state. Unbeknownst to Nash, on 35 of the 38 occasions that he has been placed under hypnosis by this doctor, his partially undressed body has been photographed by a man and woman team known as "The Dickgrabers." William James Dickgraber was also apparently under CIA cover as a fine art forger. He is almost certainly the source for the "reproductions" that befouled the walls of Nash's Vienna safehouse.



Above: Odd but true-The signature of WJ Dickgraber on one of Nash's (clearly) fake Dürer watercolors.

The purposes of these photos remain uncertain, but it is widely assumed that they were an attempt to garner material for a budding but imperfect photographic doctoring practice that was aimed at blackmail. To this date, it is unknown whether Nash was ever extorted or blackmailed with these photos, but it seems unlikely (due in major part to the fact that everyone who knew Nash had probably seen his half-naked body drooling and semi-conscious on a sofa before.)


Above: A "proof of concept" image pilfered from the Dickgrabers' suburban Connecticut home.


During the hypnosis, Nash vividly remembers the end of a briefing on MKULTRA in April 1953. Present at the meeting were CIA Director Allen Dulles, Gen. Ed Lansdale, Dr. Sidney Gottlieb, President Eisenhower, Sec. of State Dean Acheson, and a host of internal White House staffers.



Above: Dulles (left) and others at the briefing.

At a moment in the recollection when the general aims of MKULTRA were being detailed, Nash vividly remembers an unbearded Fidel Castro eating the tongue from a boiled sheep's head and humming White Rabbit.


Above: Castro (with beard intact) forgets the lyrics again.

Knowing this cannot be possible, Nash covers his crotch, sobs, and falls deeper into the hypnotic state. (See above proof-of-concept photo.) Alas, Nash can only now recall -in flawless detail- the conversation that ended in Allen Dulles' being sent out for, of course, Mexican food. A recently discovered transcript of that conversation follows:

Eisenhower: He’ll [Dulles] do it. He’ll do it as Acting Director until we get full director.

Acheson: You're going to appoint a full director to find a better Mexican restaur-

Eisenhower: I'm the damned President, aren't I?

Acheson: Yes, sir.

Eisenhower: See, I’m making a search as you know, and he says he’ll take it [over] for that long. Do you think that’s a good thing?

Acheson: It’s ideal, sir.

Eisenhower: Now, his only problem he says is that bastard, uh - what's his name... The guy who opened the new restaurant? He took the Presidential discount with him.

Dulles: Yeah, what the hell am I going to say? I knew [Head Chef] Don Pancho?

Acheson: That's not even his real name, is it?

Eisenhower: The problem isn't the name its that, hell, everybody knows Pancho now. I mean, he hasn’t worked there since 1951.

Acheson: That’s no problem for him [Dulles]. [Inaudible] He has a sidearm, doesn't he?

Acheson: I don't think he would be within the scope of-

Eisenhower: Well, anyway, he [Pancho] was there—never during the campaign, when we ate so much - I mean everybody did... not just me. He might not even remember us.

Acheson: Might I remind you, sir, that you are the President.

Eisenhower: You've got something there, Dean. Doesn't he Allen?

Dulles: Sir, if I may interject here, it's getting late. And the car doesn't always-

Eisenhower: I told you to take the damned White House car... It has a driver, you know.

Dulles: Am I going to Pancho's new place?

Eisenhower: Well, do you think Pancho's new place would be a good one?

Acheson: Ideal.

Eisenhower: Ideal, he says. Then I’m going to name him Official Mexican Chef of the Presidency, and I’m going to have it announced from over here. Is that all right?

Acheson: Sure, but, Mr. President…

Eisenhower: Yeah?

Acheson: …under the rules and regulations of the law, it’s an appointment that I, administratively, have to make. So, I think your announcement—

Eisenhower: Oh…

Acheson: —should be that you have directed me to—

Eisenhower: Sure.

Acheson: —designate him as Official Chef—

Eisenhower: Mexican chef

Acheson: -of the...Presidency? Is that right?

Eisenhower: Yes, of the Presidency. I like that. But under the rules and regulations of the law, it’s an appointment that the Secretary of State has to make? Is that right?

Acheson: So, you just—you make the announcement that you have directed me—

Eisenhower: Yeah.

Acheson: —to make him the Official Chef.

Eisenhower: Mexican Chef...Jesus. Anyway, I make the announcement that I have directed the Secretary of state to make you—him the Official Mexican Chef until a successor—

Acheson: That’s right.

Eisenhower: —is announced...

Acheson: Yes, sir.

Eisenhower: as an even newer Official Mexican Chef. All right. That’s what we’ll do.

Acheson: Fine, sir.

Eisenhower: Fine.


Nash Awakens, terrified. And "hongry."