Part III: From Contra to Coup
Dr. John C. McClure’s Suriname Misadventure
Aug 04, 2024
A “Hunting Trip” Like No Other
So, there’s our boy John McClure, fresh from his Washington D.C. spin cycle, thinking he’s headed back to the Nicaraguan jungle. But hold on to your camo hats, because December 1983 finds him in the Virginia mountains instead. He’s supposedly on a “hunting trip,” but let’s be real – when has anything in McClure’s life been that simple?
Diplomatic Cars and Mysterious Videos
First clue that this isn’t your average deer hunt: They stop at a house with a W123 series Mercedes sporting diplomatic plates. Enter Eduardo, a pale, athletic young guy who used to be chief of security for the Surinamese embassy in D.C. But that was before Desi Bouterse decided to play dictator in Suriname.
Next thing you know, McClure’s watching a “slick and professional” video about the Suriname coup that he says “could’ve been from Langley,” his suspicions about CIA involvement already taking root.
The Council for the Liberation of Suriname: New Bosses, Same As The Old Boss.
These new players call themselves the Council for the Liberation of Suriname. They’ve got a job that’s right up McClure’s alley: overthrow Bouterse’s regime in Suriname. It’s like Nicaragua 2.0 for our boy John – different jungle, same old “fight the commies” tune.
The Council for the Liberation of Suriname, as Eduardo’s group called themselves, had a proposition for McClure. They needed a man with his particular set of skills, someone who could plan and execute a military operation to overthrow Bouterse’s regime. It was a far cry from the jungles of Nicaragua, but the familiar themes of anti-communism and liberation were music to McClure’s ears.
As he pored over the materials provided by Eduardo, McClure’s mind raced with possibilities. The Council, led by former Surinamese Prime Minister and President Henk Chin A Sen, seemed to have the political clout. What they needed was military expertise – and that’s where McClure came in.
McClure: The One-Man War Room
Early 1984, McClure’s in a Washington suburb that’s got more security than Fort Knox, meeting with Council members Mohammed and Glen. And boy, does he come prepared.
He’s got plans ranging from “let’s invade the capital with a million-dollar budget” to “how about we just send in a platoon of Nicaraguans, Americans, and ‘Nam vets?” You’ve got to admire the man’s range, if not his sanity.
Show Me The Troops (And The Plane)
The Council wants proof that McClure can deliver the goods. No problem, says our intrepid mercenary. Need a DC-3 and a pilot who can keep secrets? He’s got you covered. Troops? Just let him pop down to Costa Rica and he’ll rustle some up some of his buddies in M3.
As former Surinamese Prime Minister Henk Chin A Sen fronts the cash for McClure’s Costa Rica recon mission, our boy John is feeling pretty good about life. Nicaragua? That’s so last year. Now he’s got an equally good cause and an equally despicable enemy, and a nice paycheck to boot.
A Hippie, a Marine, and a Mercenary walk into a bar
So, our boy John McClure touches down in Costa Rica on January 18, 1984. He thinks he’s there to rustle up some resources for his Suriname gig. Boy, is he in for a surprise. This isn’t just Costa Rica – it’s Spy Central, and McClure’s about to become the main attraction.
The Gang’s All Here
Right off the bat, McClure’s greeted by El Gringo and Dr. Taboada at the airport. Remember them? They’ve just been sprung from Pastora’s custody. Talk about your awkward reunions. McClure, ever the diplomat, hands over some cash to M3. You know, just to keep things friendly.
The Hippie Who Wasn’t
First stop: “Nashville South,” a bar that’s less about country music and more about covert ops. Here’s where things get weird. A guy sidles up to McClure, knowing way too much about him and his mission. This mystery man calls himself “The Hippie,” but don’t let the name fool you.
Turns out, The Hippie is one Mark Lynn Horsky. Former student council president, clarinet player, and… international man of mystery? This guy’s resume reads like a spy novel – from the University of Kansas to Costa Rica, with stops in Indiana (of course), Chase Manhattan Bank in NY and General Manager of the craft brewery, Cervecería Tropical, in San Juan along the way. Oh, and did we mention the allegations of flying guns to Costa Rica and cocaine back to Florida? All with a wink and a nod from the CIA, apparently (according to Fabio Ernesto Carrasco’s later testimony in court..)
Enter the Marine (Who’s Really a Spy)
McClure’s next stop was the Key Largo bar, where he met Jimmy Adams, a former U.S. Army Counter Intelligence Corps operator, who played the role of genial host and inadvertent (or perhaps intentional) matchmaker. “You two have so much in common that I have to introduce you,” he said, gesturing to a woman who claimed to be his girlfriend, Angie.
According to McClure, “Amy was tall and slender with the grace of a dance. While not the prettiest girl in San Jose, she had a face that piqued my interest—full, sensuous lips— a dancers body that aroused another sort of interest.”
Angie, aka Amy S. Glenn. Ex-Marine, computer whiz, and PhD. candidate—definitely not just bar owner, Jimmy Adams’, girlfriend. McClure’s spidey senses are tingling, but he can’t help being intrigued. I mean, who wouldn’t be?
McClure and Amy hit it off, and Amy accompanied McClure to the lounge at the Irazu for his meeting with “The Hippie.” As she sat quietly in the corner, ostensibly just tagging along, the seasoned mercenary couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being watched, evaluated.
It was only later, after a night of passion that seemed too good to be true, that McClure’s suspicions were confirmed. Employing a trick he’d learned from James Bond movies, he’d placed a piece of scotch tape on his briefcase. In the morning, it was clear someone had been through his documents. Angie, it seemed, was more than just a pretty face with a knack for being in the right place at the right time. She was either a thief… or a spy.
“According to his passport and other documents, his name was John L McClure,” Amy would later recall, her detailed knowledge of his background belying her role as a simple academic researcher.
The Plot Thickens (Like Really Thick Costa Rican Coffee)
The next morning, the Hippie’s back, this time dropping his real name and hinting at McClure’s “sanctioned mission.” Following their meeting, McClure heads to the U.S. Embassy to vet the Hippie, he meets Joseph F. Fernandez, aka Tomas Castillo. If that name rings a bell, it should – he’s about to be knee-deep in the Iran-Contra scandal.
Fernandez drops a bombshell: the Dutch Secret Service is protecting Bouterse in Suriname. “The whole mess may end up being the Dutch version of Watergate,” he says. Great, just what McClure needed – more complications.
Spy vs. Spy vs… McClure?
By now, McClure’s head must be spinning. He’s got The Hippie offering him a shopping list of weapons that would make Rambo jealous. Amy’s playing both lover and spy. And the U.S. Embassy is giving him the green light while hinting at international conspiracies.
Oh, and just to cap it all off, The Hippie confirms that Amy’s CIA. Because of course she is.
From Costa Rica to Belgium: McClure’s Excellent (Mis)Adventure
Mountain Roads and Mystery Men
So, our boy John McClure thought his Costa Rican adventure couldn’t get any weirder. Wrong again, John. The Hippie (aka Mark Lynn Horsky) takes him on a scenic mountain drive to meet “The Ranger.” Picture this: a tall, muscular Latino dude with a Midwestern accent. Because why not?
On the way, Horsky casually drops that he’s only had to do four things for the CIA in fifteen years. The payoff? A pineapple plantation in Puerto Rico and a fancy finca in Alajuela. Not too shabby for a part-time spy, eh?
The Ranger’s Too-Good-To-Be-True Offer
The Ranger doesn’t mess around. He offers McClure a DC3 plane, a staging area at his Costa Rican plantation, and enough logistical support to make any wannabe revolutionary drool. Oh, and just to sweeten the deal, he throws in his Cessna 150 and his son as a pilot to get McClure to the airport. Talk about five-star service!
Belgian Waffle (As in, The Plan Waffles)
Fast forward to January 31, 1984. McClure’s in Belgium, probably dreaming of waffles and world domination. Instead, he gets a big ol’ helping of disappointment.
For those of who’ve read our early episode “Clinical Psychological Warfare,” you may remember the Belgium trip where John meets Glenn Mohammed and a Surinamese expatriate businessman known as “Fat Man,” (who may have been Ab Jüdell). Seems the “Fat Man” got swindled out of $300,000 by a Belgian mercenary. Or was it 300,000 Dutch guilders? And did the Belgian actually do the job? Details, details.
The kicker comes on February 2. Fat Man decides he doesn’t trust Americans (shocking, I know) and pulls the plug on the whole operation. Just like that, McClure’s grand plans for Suriname go up in smoke faster than a cheap cigar.
Back to the USA: Party Time in D.C.
By February 4, McClure’s back in the Big Apple, his dreams as crushed as a Times Square hot dog. He had no way to contact The Ranger, Angie or The Hippie, though he strongly suspected were all CIA. The entire Suriname operation, he realized, had been designed to have plausible deniability, with the ex-pats providing cover for potential U.S. involvement.
A call from Angie/Amy only added to his frustration. The Hippie was upset at not hearing from him, but when McClure explained the operation’s failure, Amy abruptly hung up.
But our boy’s nothing if not resilient. In an attempt to find contacts within “the Company,” John reaches out to a journalist friend who invites him to swanky Georgetown party in D.C., rolling up in a borrowed Lincoln Town Car like he’s the star of his own spy movie.
The Colonel Drops Some Truth Bombs
Here’s where things get really interesting. McClure meets a DIA colonel who looks like Chevy Chase (I swear, you can’t make this stuff up). This guy’s got more medals than a Boy Scout jamboree and he’s about to give McClure a reality check.
The colonel pulled out a report on “Dr. John,” reciting McClure’s history: military school, JROTC, the Marines, Army re-enlistment, his “all-expenses-paid trip to SE Asia,” college on the GI Bill, master’s degree, Ph.D., and finally, his appearance on a DEA computer as a debt collector for a major cocaine dealer.
The colonel breaks it down for our would-be mercenary:
- The CIA won’t touch him with a ten-foot pole. Too independent, too many sketchy connections.
- Most of McClure’s “CIA contacts”? Probably just contract agents getting the occasional bone thrown their way.
- McClure’s value? He can plan and execute operations, making him both useful and dangerous.
- The Agency’s game plan: Control McClure through the CIA contacts at the embassy and contract guys. If he succeeds, great. If he fails, “John who?”
But here’s the real kicker: If McClure gets too big for his britches, the Agency might just “stomp” him. And by “stomp,” we’re talking prison or worse. Yikes.
The colonel’s parting advice was stark: “Be cynical, try to get something on whomever you’re dealing with and put it in a safe place before you let them know that you have them covered… protect yourself at all times.”
McClure’s Insurance Policy
Our boy John’s not as green as he looks. Before his next adventure in French Guiana, he hands Amy (remember her? The spy/girlfriend) a box of documents and voice tapes. Just in case, you know?
“He told me he would be back within a few days but if anything should happen he wanted me to get the box to the CIA (which I later did),” Amy recounted.
Back to the Jungle: McClure’s Contra Comeback Tour
The Wall Street Interlude
So, our boy John McClure’s Suriname dreams crashed harder than a rookie trader on Black Monday. What’s a washed-up mercenary to do? Why, head to Wall Street, of course!
Picture this: McClure, the ex-Nazi, ex-biker, ex-shrink, now playing computer whiz for Fortune 500 companies. He and Alexandra (remember her?) are living it up in a swanky Staten Island apartment, with McClure pulling in a cool $40,000 a year (that’s about $110,000 in today’s money, folks). It’s like “Wolf of Wall Street” meets “Apocalypse Now.”
Full Circle: McClure’s Return to the Contra Fold
After the failed Suriname operation, which you can revisit in more detail here, Dr. John C. McClure found himself back in New York, attempting to piece together a semblance of normalcy. He returned to work, trying to salvage what remained of his marriage to Alexandra Natasha Tarasova.
Leveraging his programming skills, McClure began freelancing for Fortune 500 companies, designing computers for special projects. Life seemed to stabilize; he and Alexandra settled into a comfortable Staten Island apartment overlooking the harbor, with McClure earning a respectable $40,000 a year (approx. $110,000 in today’s money) on Wall Street.
The Siren Call of Central America
But come on, did you really think our John could resist the pull of Central American chaos? When news breaks about a bombing at Eden Pastora’s press conference, McClure’s mercenary radar starts pinging like crazy. “CIA or Sandinistas?” he wonders. “Or maybe those Nicaraguan patriots finally got fed up with Pastora’s lousy leadership.” Always the armchair strategist, our John.
UNO: A Whole New Ballgame
Spring 1985 rolls around, and McClure spots an article that gets his mercenary juices flowing. Alfonso Robelo, Adolfo Calero, and Arturo Cruz have formed a new Contra supergroup called UNO (Union of Nicaraguan Opposition). It’s like the Avengers, but with more guns and less spandex.
For McClure, this unity smells like “a whole new war.” And you know our boy can’t resist a good fight.
Back in the Saddle
Faster than you can say “plausible deniability,” McClure’s back in South Florida, rubbing elbows with “El Negro” Chamorro and Robelo’s Miami agent, Don Francisco. Turns out, the MDN’s been struggling since Uncle Sam cut off the allowance. Foreshadowing, anyone?
Welcome Home, Soldier
Back in Central America, it’s like McClure never left. He’s bunking at a collaborator’s pad, reuniting with old war buddies like Papi (a Korean War vet from his days with ARDE, M3, and the Suriname operation), and taking inventory at the Contra base camp.
Little does John know (or does he?), but his bean-counting coincides with Oliver North chewing out Adolfo Calero for mismanaging supplies. You know, the $32 million worth of supplies bought with Iranian arms sale money. Just your average, everyday covert ops stuff.
The Plot Thickens
McClure’s inventory work is like accidentally stumbling into the climax of a Tom Clancy novel. He’s documenting the very goodies that are at the heart of what will become the Iran-Contra scandal. Talk about being in the wrong place at the right time.
Old Flames and New Dangers
Our boy learns that his old flames “Angie” (Amy S. Glenn) and “the Hippie” (Mark L. Horsky) have tied the knot and headed back to the States. Amy’s hitting the books at Ohio State. It’s like a spy rom-com subplot in the middle of our political thriller.
Now, this is where McClure’s adventure gets more tangled than a bowl of CIA spaghetti. McClure heads back to the States to report on his inventory work and the Contras’ shopping list. But in the world of spooks and shadows, you can’t just pick up the phone and call the NSA.
So what does John do? He gets a “friend” with NSA contacts to play middleman. Classic spy stuff, right? But hold onto your fake mustaches, because there’s a twist. Another agency – “apparently CIA,” but let’s be real, it’s probably Oliver North and his merry band of rule-benders – steps in and says, “We’ll take those reports, thank you very much.”
And here’s the kicker: these guys know McClure’s name, his background, probably what he had for breakfast. It’s like Big Brother meets “This Is Your Life,” spy edition. Really makes you wonder who’s watching the watchmen, doesn’t it?
Costa Rica: Where the Living Ain’t Easy
Back in Costa Rica, McClure’s life starts to look like a deleted scene from “Narcos.” He survives an attack – because apparently, inventory-taking is now an extreme sport. He’s rubbing elbows with Fernando “El Negro” Chamorro, who’s allegedly moonlighting as a drug runner. I mean, a guy’s gotta have a side hustle, right?
But wait, there’s more! McClure gets wind that Comandante Mario Miranda of the Sandinistas has put a price on his head. Nothing says “you’ve made it in the mercenary world” like your very own assassination order.
The Moment of Truth
Now, brace yourselves for the gut-punch, folks. In the heat of a firefight, McClure takes out a combatant. But this isn’t just any fighter – we’re talking about a 17 or 18-year-old kid. And that’s when it hits him like a ton of bricks.
“What the fuck am I doing here killing children?” he asks himself. It’s like the universe just slapped him with a reality check, and the bill is coming due.
This moment, folks, this is where the music stops, the record scratches, and John McClure, professional tough guy, starts to question everything. It’s the beginning of the end of his Contra gig, and maybe, just maybe, the start of something like a conscience.
The Final Twist: McClure’s Last Dance
Old Habits Die Hard
Just when you thought our boy John McClure might settle down for a quiet retirement, surprise! In 1987, he pops up in Suriname like a bad penny, hanging out with rebel leader Ronnie Brunswijk, still actively involved with the Council for the Liberation of Suriname. Looks like McClure’s retirement plan involved less golf and more guerrilla warfare. Some guys just can’t quit the game.
From Rambo to Hemingway
Fast forward to the early ’90s, and McClure’s trading his gun for a pen. Under the name John Abraham Fultz III (an homage to his grandfather, John Abraham Fultz, Sr.), he pens a heart-wrenching piece about his battle with AIDS. “Through the Belly of the Beast” isn’t exactly “War and Peace,” but it shows a side of McClure we haven’t seen before – vulnerable, raw, and painfully human.
The Book That Wouldn’t Die
Even as his health fades, McClure’s keeping busy with his magnum opus, “Soldier Without Fortune” (a nickname given him by a friend who drowned trying to escape in Nicaragua). But like everything in McClure’s life, even this isn’t straightforward. His stepdaughter, Nicole Coffman, spills some intriguing tea:
“According to my stepfather, John C McClure, who died January 20th 1993, he wrote Soldier Without Fortune even though the published book lists John L McClure (he claimed it was a publisher’s mistake that screwed him out of book sales).”
Talk about a plot twist! Was it a publishing snafu or another of McClure’s identity shell games? Nicole adds, “My John had allegedly been a mercenary, 82nd airborne in Vietnam, and had a PhD in psychology. I never saw proof to any of this – just the collection of out-of-print copies of his book that my mother has been collecting.”
Looks like even McClure’s family was left scratching their heads. Was he spinning yarns till the very end, or was John C. truly the victim of a literary identity theft? In true McClure fashion, we may never know.
The Man, The Myth, The… Men?
But folks, this is John McClure we’re talking about. You didn’t think his story would end neatly, did you? The plot thickens faster than a spy novel written by a room full of conspiracy theorists.
On a blog called “Our Redneck Past,” a parade of characters claiming to know or have researched McClure weigh in, and boy, do they have stories to tell:
- Susie from Alexandria, VA, drops a casual bomb about her ex knowing McClure through the Pagans. Just your average biker gang connection, no big deal.
- Alfred Milligan’s on a mission to verify McClure’s claims. PhD in psychology? Check. Computer consultant in NYC? Maybe. Mercenary in Central America? The jury’s still out.
- Frances Kreis throws us a curveball. She knew a John McClure in 1987 NYC, working as a “consultant” on Wall Street. But get this – he claimed it was a CIA cover. Classic McClure move, or classic impostor move?
- Nicole Coffman, McClure’s stepdaughter, paints a picture of a man who claimed to be a mercenary, Vietnam vet, and PhD holder. But she never saw proof, just a bunch of out-of-print books.
- Then we’ve got Badams, who claims to have witnessed the Georgetown incident that landed McClure in hot water. His version? McClure was defending himself against a gang of suburban punks. Talk about your unreliable narrators.
- M.D. Clark spins a tale of McClure as a Pagan biker with a penchant for violence, pimping, and creative guitar “reselling.” It’s like “Sons of Anarchy” meets “Catch Me If You Can.”
Could McClure have pulled a full-on Jekyll and Hyde? Changed his spots like a chameleon on a disco floor? Or are we dealing with a “Parent Trap” situation here, mercenary edition?
One thing’s for sure – John McClure, whether one man or many, left a trail of conflicting stories and bewildered acquaintances that would make a spy novelist green with envy.
The Legacy of a Chameleon
So, what do we make of John McClure? Patriot or scoundrel? Hero or villain? One man or many? The truth, as they say, is probably somewhere in the middle – and knowing McClure, it’s probably armed and dangerous.
His life reads like a Cold War thriller mixed with a identity theft PSA and a dash of Greek tragedy. From the jungles of Nicaragua to the streets of Wall Street, from CIA connections to AIDS activism, McClure’s life was anything but boring.
In the end, John McClure remains a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma – and possibly inside another John McClure. He’s a walking, talking (well, not anymore) reminder that history isn’t just written by the victors – sometimes it’s written by guys who can’t decide which name to put on the book cover.
As we close the book on John McClure (or should that be books?), we’re left with more questions than answers. But maybe that’s fitting for a man who spent his life dancing on the edge between fact and fiction, hero and villain, John C. and John L.
One thing’s for sure – wherever John McClure is now, he’s probably got one hell of a story to tell. And knowing him, it’s probably at least half true.
