Welcome, Neighbor

Letter to the New York weekly Our Town, published Aug. 1, 1982

[In the summer of 1982, Our Town discovered that LaRouche had moved into a townhouse on Sutton Place, one of the city's poshest streets. There he was being guarded by a private security firm along with additional protection provided by Ku Klux Klan grand dragon Roy Frankhouser and LaRouche's own in-house security, including Herb Quinde (all armed to the teeth). Quinde, naturally, was using yet another false name. I wrote the below letter to recount my own earlier experiences with him. The upshot of Our Town's exposure of the LaRouche hideaway was that the Jewish War Veterans of America (New York County chapter) picketed the house with the participation of Our Town publisher Ed Kayatt, himself a JWV member. LaRouche quickly moved out--in fact, he moved all the way to Leesburg, Virginia.--DK]

To the editor:

Tom Popper [Our Town reporter] is to be commended for ferreting out Lyndon LaRouche's Sutton Place hideout (OT, July 4). Perhaps he can uncover Dr. Mengeles' jungle retreat in Paraguay next. I would like to add a few words about LaRouche aide Herbert Quinde, a.k.a. Herbert Strong, so that residents of Sutton Place will be aware of the character of the young man "in charge" of the LaRouche fortress.

Last December, I went to Washington D.C. to participate in a press conference calling for a federal investigation of LaRouche. Quinde, who was apparently assigned to shadow me that day, bought a Shuttle ticket and took the seat across the aisle from me. He introduced himself as an AFL-CIO official, gave a Jewish name, and pretended to be concerned about the LaRouche "menace." He was wearing a three-piece business suit and did not have the usual LaRouchian zombie look, so I was only mildly suspicious. Arrived in Washington, I called the AFL-CIO, however. There was no listing for the name, or for the job description. Yet the same individual showed up at the press conference, with the same "cover." Several days later, I was able to find out his identity.

In April, I was working at the League for Industrial Democracy one afternoon, and the director received a call from an individual with questions about LaRouche and claiming to be Chicago journalist Chip Berlet. The director was suspicious and asked me to get on the phone. Needless to say, the voice was not Chip Berlet (a friend of mine) but Herbert Quinde. When I confronted him, he laughed and readily admitted the deception.

Quinde then said, "We know where you are," which I interpreted as a threat of sorts; and he accused me of engaging in obscene acts with a high official of the B'nai B'rith Anti-Defamation League. I hung up in disgust.

Congratulations on your new neighbor, all you residents of Sutton Place.

--Dennis King
East 64th Street