Louise took Elias to fundraisers to meet and talk with Agnew. Her candidate was running in a three-man race. When contrasted with the others, especially the Democrat George Mahoney, who was campaigning as a dog-whistle racist, Agnew came across as moderate, even liberal, in spite of using tough law-and-order rhetoric after riots in Baltimore. Given the alternatives, Agnew was the clear progressive choice, and both the Baltimore Sun and the New York Times endorsed him.
At six-foot-two and over 200 pounds, bullet-headed, with a stiff posture exaggerated by inserting extra-large shoulder pads into his suit jackets, Agnew stood out at gatherings. Elias remembered the candidate’s ready smile, firm handshake, and distinctive cologne, choosing not to probe behind the affable exterior. He paid small attention to rumors about Agnew’s being a wheeler-dealer in the world of Baltimore County public contracts. Compared to other political figures he had known, Agnew’s transgressions sounded penny-ante.
After meeting the gubernatorial candidate, Elias spoke positively about his fellow ethnic Greek, albeit one who couldn’t speak the mother tongue and was an Episcopalian to boot. When he returned to Athens, he talked up the promise of Agnew’s candidacy. When he heard that Agnew had won the governorship, Elias was happiest most for his friend Louise, who had worked hard and long for the victory.
Elias didn’t see Pappas at any Agnew campaign events, but in conversations he often heard the name. When Elias interviewed John McCormack that summer about “the prospects of future United States–Greek economic cooperation,” the House Speaker repeatedly cited the Esso-Pappas project and “the great contribution” and “leadership” of his friend and “former Ambassador.”68 The new refinery “would create a virtuous circle,” McCormack said, “which would avoid any anti-democratic dictatorship.”69 Elias, who knew the backstory about the Pappas contract, said nothing.
Later in the year, when the American Embassy contacted Senate Foreign Affairs Committee member Vance Hartke to discuss his fact-finding Athens itinerary, they learned that all of Hartke’s arrangements were being made by Elias Demetracopoulos. And when Hartke and his traveling companion, columnist Eliot Janeway, arrived in October, Demetracopoulos greeted them at the airport “in conspicuously cordial fashion, attached himself to them and stayed with them throughout virtually all of their Athens visit.”
Janeway’s articles harshly criticized Johnson Administration policies in Greece and praised Elias for warning about the growing risks of an antidemocratic putsch,70 prompting Vice President Hubert Humphrey to mediate a dispute between Janeway and President Johnson. In less than a year, these players would engage again over the fate of Elias Demetracopoulos.
15.From Reporter to Activist
AT THE END OF 1966, Elias watched the Apostates-controlled government fall apart. King Constantine appointed a caretaker government under the deputy governor of the National Bank of Greece to last until Spring elections, but, faced with partisan gridlock, the governor resigned.
The right wanted to bring charges of high treason against Andreas Papandreou for his alleged role in Aspida once the dissolution of parliament removed his immunity as deputy. Kanellopoulos, who considered the attack on Andreas baseless, nevertheless opposed extending the protective immunity period. With no one willing to compromise, the stalemate continued, as did sporadic strikes and demonstrations. On April 3, the King appointed Kanellopoulos to form a coalition government. Unable to do so, he dissolved parliament and called for elections on May 28, 1967.
Athens was awash in Stygian rumors. From the chic cafés of Kolonaki to boisterous tavernas outside Athens, citizens angrily debated the preferred direction for their country. Provocative newspaper headlines and outrageous editorials inflamed passions; some supported—or were resigned to—a military intervention. As if scripted by classical Greek playwrights, the principal actors assumed roles that would lead inexorably to tragedy. The often-ill-advised King was aware that free and fair elections would likely restore the Center Union to power with an even stronger role for Andreas, whom he feared as a gateway to Communist control and the destruction of the monarchy. He told New York Times columnist C. L. Sulzberger that “he would act by any means to save the nation from disaster.”1
Constantine discussed with his generals the implementation of a NATO contingency plan, code-named Prometheus, designed to repel Communist aggression, reassert control, and eliminate leftist subversives in the event of an invasion from one of Greece’s northern Balkan neighbors. National Defense Chief General Grigorios Spantidakis and his high-ranking officers prepared a plan but decided to wait for the May election results before acting.
Constantine, meanwhile, vacillated. As winter turned into spring, he seemed more inclined to try to influence the electoral outcome so as to produce a “unity coalition” that would include more conservative members of the Center Union. Constantine talked with Philips Talbot, who had become US Ambassador to Greece in October 1965. Talbot approved a CIA plan for a “limited covert action” to achieve the desired political outcome and sent it to Washington.2 There, on two occasions in March, the 303 Committee, in charge of overseeing covert actions, discussed intelligence reports on pro-dictatorship coup planning and the electoral alternative.3
The 303 Committee included representatives of the National Security Council, CIA, State Department, Defense Department, and White House. It had been set up to stop the spread of Communism outside the Communist bloc, and had supported American intervention in Chile in 1964 and in Brazil and the Dominican Republic in 1965. It would approve more than 300 covert operations during the Kennedy and Johnson administrations. In Greece, however, they took a pass, fearing that the political risks outweighed the security benefits. According to one recollection, a high administration official said: “Maybe we should let the Greeks try a military dictatorship; nothing else seems to work over there.”4 Secretary of State Dean Rusk likely had Tom and John Pappas in mind when he suggested: “If the dual national Greek-Americans are concerned about the prospects and if 200 to 300 thousand dollars will make the difference, they should have no trouble raising that sum themselves.”5 Johnson’s national security advisor, Walt Rostow observed: “I hope you understand, gentlemen, that what we have concluded here, or rather have failed to conclude, makes the future course of events in Greece inevitable.”6
In March, Ambassador Talbot confirmed to Washington the existence of an inchoate “junta” involving Queen Mother Frederika, dismissed defense chief General Garoufalias, former ERE foreign minister Panagiotis Pipinelis, and retired General Dovas, who were all urging Constantine to suspend the constitution and impose a royal dictatorship.7 The American ambassador downplayed its significance as well as that of reports of another and more potentially serious army cabal that would later be known as the unexecuted Generals’ Coup. Constantine asked Talbot about Washington’s attitude to an extra-parliamentary solution. The ambassador hedged, replying that it would be negative in principle, “but would depend on circumstances at the time.”8 Washington was more concerned about Vietnam.
ERE’s Kanellopoulos was in a difficult position. A principled conservative, he believed in an enduring parliamentary democracy, even if that meant a Center Union victory in May. Unable to control the army, having only tepid support from the Palace and the conservative press, he was resigned to Karamanlis controlling their party from his self-exile in Paris.
Karamanlis got into the act. After advising the King that he would not return to Greece unless Constantine imposed martial law, Karamanlis flew to New York to lobby retired Supreme Allied Commander General Lauris Norstad to push for US support for a coup d’état that would put Karamanlis in charge of a conservative government. Norstad declined to help.9
George Papandreou had other problems. In March, CIA polling pointed to further ERE erosion and a Center Union victory, with an even larger majority than in 1964 as long as Andreas attracted support from EDA left-wing candidates. But the Center Union coalition was deeply divided, with more-moderate members furious at Andreas’s increasingly divisive rhetoric and afraid of his “evil influence” in a new government. Outside observers feared an inconclusive outcome that would only prolong Greece’s instability.
Greek political leaders muddled on, apparently unconcerned that their intransigence could have dangerous consequences. Andreas publicly “ridiculed” the idea of a military takeover.10 Margaret, his American-born wife, believed that, if the King could not prevent a coup, the US would intervene to stop it.11 Some party leaders, though publicly dismissive of conspiratorial gossip, betrayed their discomfort with the charged atmosphere in private. Andreas, for all his bravado, was sufficiently concerned about his safety to start sleeping away from his house.12
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ELIAS TOOK ON a role as a self-appointed guardian of democracy. He assembled the articles he had prepared from Washington interviews the year before into a slim compilation, The Threat of Dictatorship. In the book’s preface, prepared in March 1967, he explained that the authoritarian threat had always been present in Greek politics, more so since the July 1965 removal of Papandreou, and that unscrupulous politicians had used such fears to blackmail voters into supporting them to prevent an anti-democratic alternative. Speculation in Greece that the United States secretly backed a military coup and dictatorship had prompted him to interview a variety of high-ranking American officials across the political spectrum in summer 1966 on the subject of Greece. From Republican presidential nominee Senator Barry Goldwater to Democratic House Speaker John McCormack to top generals and admirals, he found all strongly and unequivocally supportive of free elections and opposed to a military junta. Elias, friendly with both Panagiotis Kanellopoulos and George Papandreou, hoped to squelch rumors.
Notwithstanding these reassuring statements, Demetracopoulos continued to track new indicators of brewing conspiracies. Most serious speculation saw the driving force for a possible coup coming from the Palace and high-echelon generals. Elias, however, was also looking in a different direction. In his effort to reform the army, George Papandreou had scattered some former targets of Elias’s concern to posts in Cyprus and northern Greece. By mid-1966, Elias learned from his army sources that some of these conspiratorial EENA true believers, having completed their outside tours, had been assigned to command positions back in Athens. He didn’t have access to the detailed intelligence gathered by the Americans, but he learned that a group of officers including Ioannidis, Ladas, Roufogalis, and Papadopoulos, people he had heard of since his early investigations into IDEA, were soon to be well-placed within the KYP, the military police, and battalion commands.13
His information came confidentially, on deep background, and since he could not get confirmation elsewhere he didn’t write about it. Instead he suggested to friends like Mavros and Kanellopoulos that the source of real trouble might not be connected to the Palace or the generals, but an alternative lower-level military group. He tried doing the same with Norbert Anschutz, the second in command at the American Embassy, but embassy attitudes toward him were so negative that it was useless. Anschutz would later discuss receiving similar information from a right-wing parliamentarian and former member of “X,” Nick Farmakis. He, however, was deemed so unreliable that the tip was never passed on to Washington.14
The only serious discussion Elias had on this with any American was in Washington during a summer 1966 lunch with Charlios “Charlie” Lagoudakis, a veteran Greek-American analyst in the Department of Intelligence and Research within the State Department. Lagoudakis was privy to all the reports prepared by State, Defense, the CIA, and NSA, and he wasn’t about to share classified secrets with Elias. But the two men discussed the difficulties of sifting legitimate intelligence from unverifiable rumor. They agreed that sometimes the coup that occurs is “the one you don’t know about,” and he reassured Demetracopoulos that the reporter’s EENA tracking was a legitimate focus.
Lagoudakis, unbeknownst to Elias, had been doing the same thing. For two years, he’d monitored and distilled CIA field reports about the band of lieutenant-colonel conspirators, called “Rightist Greek Military Conspiratorial Group.”15 He’d identified individuals, their histories, and coup chatter. George Papadopoulos, for example, had said in December 1966 that once a dictatorship was established it would seek US support in order to implement social and economic measures that could sway the present tendency toward the left. But after January 19, 1967, Lagoudakis’s information about the group dried up. It was as if they’d gone off the grid. On February 6, Lagoudakis sent an urgent request to the CIA and the embassy’s political section for “discreet inquiries.” He wrote again but received no reply.
It was a warning sign, like the dog that didn’t bark in the night. Elias telephoned Lagoudakis several times long-distance in early 1967, but the analyst didn’t return the calls, perhaps because of State Department anti-Elias warnings. When Demetracopoulos tried to probe his EENA colonels’ coup theory with others in Greece, they largely dismissed it.
Elias was in regular contact with several of the King’s advisors, Greek intelligence, and IDEA-connected military officers, and retired KYP director Natsinas. Natsinas told him nothing of value. He also talked often to his longstanding and usually reliable source, retired General Dovas, who was a member of the Queen Mother’s “junta” and perhaps knew about any Papadopoulos connection to the Palace.16 Dovas considered Andreas an outright Communist and told Elias that if he were looking at lowly colonels he was looking in the wrong direction. Any extra-parliamentary action, he maintained, would come from higher up.
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ON THURSDAY MORNING, April 20, 1967, Elias arose even earlier than usual, unable to sleep. Almost twenty-six years earlier to the day, German tanks had rolled into Athens as the Axis completed its invasion of Greece and the occupation began. Fresh and disturbing childhood images of that time interrupted his sleep and felt like a premonition.
For a busy journalist, it was a normal day. While foreign tourists, the city’s cosmopolitan elite, and the King and Queen sought refuge from that afternoon’s heat at the Hilton’s swimming pool, Elias read some reports, made telephone calls, listened to radio news, had a business luncheon, and met some contacts for upcoming stories. His publisher called to tell him that The Threat of Dictatorship was being readied for distribution to local bookstores. In the afternoon he received a call from one of his unnamed sources, telling him “There’s movement.” No details, just an intimation that something significant might be underway.
Early that evening, Elias dressed for a cocktail reception at the stately Kolonaki home of Virginia Tsouderou, daughter of a former governor of the Bank of Greece and late prime minister who had led the Greek government in exile during World War II. It was a lovely soirée, with drinks and hors d’oeuvres passed among the Athens intelligentsia and high society. Amid the genial chatter, someone asked Elias, who was nursing a ginger ale, to predict the outcome of the balloting scheduled for May 28. Others turned around to hear the reply. Elias said, with a touch of sadness, “Not only do I see the election not happening, but something very bad will happen very soon…”
There was stunned silence. George Papandreou was scheduled to open his campaign with a large rally in Thessaloniki in a couple of days, and Kanellopoulos’s kickoff was also the coming weekend. Elias was known to have access to all significant players. Pressed to clarify his ominous pronouncement, he indicated with a slight wave of the hand that he didn’t want to go any further. The evening continued, but his remark left a perceptible chill in the air.
Nearing midnight, Elias departed to join friends at his uncle’s popular Café Bokolas on Voulis Street in the heart of Athens. He was to meet Persa Metaxas, along with Mario Modiano, Athens bureau chief for the Times of London, and Modiano’s wife, Inci. The two women were there already, but Mario was working on deadline to finish a long article and would come later.
As he arrived, Demetracopoulos was accosted by friends who challenged him to do more to assure that fair elections would take place. John Pesmazoglou, deputy governor of the Central Bank of Greece, and his elegant wife, Miranda, had been at the same party earlier. They told him that he should stop his jeremiads and become an engaged reformer. He thanked them for their advice. However, he still believed that activism was not the proper role for a serious journalist. As his group talked and slowly ordered food, the mysterious telephone tip from that afternoon weighed on him.
Elias registered what he imagined were changes in normal street sounds and the late-night traffic flow, but nothing seemed to justify his anxiety. Nevertheless, some form of sixth sense had kicked in. He told the others that they should not wait for Mario, should not even finish their meals. He feared that something was about to happen, and they should all leave immediately.
The trio scattered.17 Persa went directly home. Inci Modiano left for the news bureau to join her husband, where they would be well placed to report on the unfolding story. As for Elias, he reasoned that, if there were to be some kind of coup, he might be targeted. It would not be wise to go home or to his father’s place or to any of his newspaper offices. But where to hide? It was after 1 a.m. Nearby, people chattered, laughed, and licked ice cream cones.
At about 1:30 a.m., tanks rolled into Athens following the same route that the Germans used in 1941, passing the dark and silent US Embassy on the way to the Parliament building. At Kathimerini, Eleni Vlachou and her late shift were closing for the night when “the first phone calls came, asking what was happening; why so many tanks were around; why officers were stopping cars, ordering pedestrians about, taking over from the police. No one had any answers…”18 The military started arresting people about 2 a.m., the prearranged hour for the strike, and cut phones an hour later.
The dragnet targeted thousands, including editors connected to centrist and leftist publications. Later that night—decades after the Nazis had invaded the house on Dafnomili Street—soldiers again searched Elias’s childhood home. They achieved nothing other than scaring his father. For some unknown reason, they did not proceed to his current apartment on nearby Dimokritou Street, where Elias had returned from the restaurant, but went off to look for others in their haphazard roundup. Elias didn’t hear the rumbling of tanks in the night. His phone was dead. Martial music and announcements blaring from the radio were his first signs that something had happened.
Early in the morning, Persa rushed over in a panic, fearful that they had taken Elias away. With a touch of swagger, he assured her that he was fine and wouldn’t be intimidated by a dictatorship, the leadership and goals of which were as yet unknown. He told her that he might go into hiding and be gone for some time, but he would not give her any details. She needed to have absolute deniability.
In late morning, with phones still down, Elias took a less than ten-minute walk from his apartment to the German Embassy on Loukianou Street, where he was to have a long-scheduled lunch with German Ambassador Oscar Schlitter. The streets around Kolonaki Square were uncomfortably quiet.
Oskar Schlitter was a sixty-two-year-old career diplomat who had begun his foreign service in 1929. To advance his career, he joined the Nazi Party in 1934, served under Ambassador Joachim von Ribbentrop in London, and during the war worked mainly as a counselor at headquarters in Berlin. After the war, he was interrogated at Nuremberg, cleared, and then retired to his farm. He returned to the Foreign Service in 1952, posted to Madrid and then London. In 1964, he was appointed Ambassador to Greece. Elias claimed that if the Bonn government was prepared to send Schlitter to Athens as its representative, knowing all Greece had suffered, he was prepared to give him the benefit of the doubt. He found the ambassador a “serious” professional not given to pretentions, pettiness, and gossip. He met with him often. Over time, Schlitter became one of his closest friends in the diplomatic corps, as well as a reliable source. The friendship extended to Schlitter’s whole family, including his wife, Daisy, and their two children.
