The Day I Met George W. Bush

What was the CIA doing in Odessa, Texas?

by John Searcy

October 25, 1978

I was on my way to an adult bookstore to try to score some weed and as I passed the Odessa Police Department, two men emerged from the Lee Avenue entrance.

One was fair-haired (Jeb Bush), one dark (George W. Bush); both were wearing dark slacks, white shirts, and ties. I drove on and parked in front of the old First State Bank Building.

I got out of my car and started walking toward the Third and Lee intersection.

I wasn't paying any attention to the two men in the crosswalk up ahead, but I felt the stare and focused in time to see the fair-haired one poke the other in the in the ribs and laugh.
As they stepped up on the curb, they spoke a few words to each other, their eyes locked on my crotch. They parted, the dark-haired one proceeding up Third to Grant Ave. and the fair-haired one turning to face me across Third Street. His eyes were wide and fixated on my crotch. The light flashed and we crossed Third Street. As we passed each other, he said, "Hello."

I continued on toward the bookstore and he entered an RV parked in the bank parking lot. As I entered the bookstore, I noticed the dark -haired one looking in the window a few businesses up the block.

Inside the bookstore the clerk took my ID and recorded my name and Texas Driver's License
number. I got two dollars in tokens and went into the arcade section.  Empty.

I chose a booth that had a view of the arcade entrance and with the door ajar I started feeding tokens into the machine. On the second token the dark-haired one entered the arcade. He came to the booth I was in and with the briefest eye contact he zeroed in on my crotch.

"This dude is even hungrier than his partner."

Afterward I went to the bathroom located in the storeroom at the very rear of the store. I was there about six or seven minutes urinating and washing my genitals. I thought that he would be gone but when I passed through the curtains separating the arcade from the magazine section he was at the register talking to the clerk. I veered to one of the racks and tried to hear what they were talking about. The clerk looked in my direction. The dark-haired dude followed his glance and saw me. He turned and left the store.

I asked the clerk, "He wanted to get his name off the list?"

The clerk looked at me and said, "It wasn't his name he was asking about."

I flashed on the blank page the clerk had recorded my data on.

What the hell was the CIA doing in Odessa, Texas?

I left the bookstore. He wasn't in sight. I walked to the intersection. He was around the corner. The light flashed "Walk" and I started up Third Street with the dark-haired one walking behind me. At mid-block he jaywalked across Third and scampered into the RV. I continued up Third, crossed at the intersection and headed for my car. As I passed the RV, I noticed a sign in the right rear window. The only things dark enough and large enough for me to make out were the letters "CIA."

What the hell was the CIA doing in Odessa, Texas?

As I got in my car, the RV door opened and the fair-haired one came out. I backed out of the parking space and shifted into drive. I looked in the mirror and saw the fair-haired one step to the curb. "He's taking my license number." I circled the block and saw the fair-haired one enter the Police Dept.'s Third St. entrance.

That evening, still trying to score some weed, I headed to the Skylight, a gay bar. I drove past the Police Department just at dusk. Looking in the lighted drive through where prisoners are taken in, I saw a short tableau.

The fair-haired one, walking behind an unloading police van caught up to the dark-haired one. He put his arm around the shoulders of the other and squeezed.

I drove on to the bar. As I parked, I saw that the RV was now parked in the bus parking lot directly in front of the bar.

When I entered the bar there were about ten guys there and I spotted a familiar face. I couldn't put a name to the face. He remembered me though.

"John Searcy."

"...They're at the cop house now getting the coke."

I got a beer and we sat down at a table with about four other guys. Some small talk and then I leaned into Whatshisname (Riley Williams, a high school classmate) and, whispering in his ear, I asked, "Is anybody holding?"

He smiled and shook his head yes. "The Bushes will be here soon."

I was lost: one went to the bushes; the bushes didn't come to you? "The bushes?"

"Jeb and George Bush. Their daddy's a Congressman from Midland. That's their RV out front."

"I've already had one of them."

"Which one?"

"I don't know his name. It was the cockeyed one, not the blond."

"That's George." Whatshisname tilted his head and asked, "You're looking for coke aren't you?"

"Nope, pot."

"They might have some. I'll ask when they get here. They're at the cop house now getting the coke."

George W. Bush, the one I had bopped earlier in the day, and Jeb Bush came in about 7:30. There were "Hellos", and they ordered beers, then turned to face the room.

Both of them locked on to me at the same time. Whatshisname stood up and joined them at the bar, grabbing Jeb by the crotch with his right hand and embracing him with his left arm. They kissed and then Jeb hollered "I've got a girlfriend now!"

He was looking straight at me.

Whatshisname stepped back, saw where he was looking and whispered in Jeb's ear. They spoke for a few minutes and then Whatshisname came back to the table. He told me that they would have some later, to come to their RV after nine.

It sounded kind of iffy to me, so I quickly made a deal with Steve, a dude sitting at the table. He had a short quarter and agreed to sell it to me [less two joints] if I would buy a twenty-cent bag of coke to dust it with.

After a series of eye signals, Jeb Bush, beer in hand, went into the men's room. George W. Bush was at the end of the bar doing some hard drinking.

Whatshisname, acting as gatekeeper, nodded several guys into the toilet to make their buys. Then it was Steve's and my turn. Jeb Bush was in the first stall, which Steve went into. I went into the second one. There were a few words from the first stall, but I got the impression that most of the conversation was mouthed.

After the buy, Steve and I went out to Steve's car to roll the joints. Steve's car was parked nose into the side of the bar. There was a foreign-made sports car parked behind it. Steve said it belonged to Jeb Bush. We got into Steve's car and dumped the coke into the baggie. He rolled a primo, which we fired up. As we smoked it as Steve rolled two more joints, which he pocketed. We made the exchange and went back into the bar. Whatshisname and the Bush boys were gone.

I hung out till nine and then went to the RV but no one came to the door.

As I left, I got a close-up look at the "CIA" sign on the back. In faded letters in the left corner of the sign were the words "We support the..."

"Oh, you do, do you...[?]"

Copyrighted 1999

[Copy to: FBI, 12-99; Texas State Police, 12-99; Texas Rangers, 12-99; Florida Commission on Ethics, 03-00; Congress, 6-00]

Author's email: jsearcyj@aol.com

Related story: "Open Letter to the Pentagon re: Bush desertion," by Ronald N. Harold