“The Falcon” was Christopher Boyce, a young ex-seminary student who dabbled in falconry in his spare time. “The Snowman” was Daulton Lee, a friend of Boyce who sold cocaine (“snow”) to any willing buyer. And in a real-life twist worthy of a John le Carré novel, these two ordinary young men from affluent Southern California families ended up as spies for the Soviet Union – a story that journalist Robert Lindsey tells in a compelling manner in his 1979 book The Falcon and the Snowman.
In order to tell A True Story of Friendship and Espionage (the book’s subtltle), Lindsey, who was then the Los Angeles bureau chief for The New York Times, conducted extensive interviews with Boyce, Lee, and other participants in the chain of events that took Boyce and Lee from suburban L.A. cul-de-sacs to cells in a federal prison. Those interviews form the basis of a story of how differing motivations and opportunities, and different personal needs, brought these two American friends together as Soviet spies.
Boyce, once he had left seminary, was not sure what he wanted to do with his life, and therefore his father, a former FBI agent, pulled some strings to get Boyce a job at a TRW facility where spy satellites were built. Making friends among people with varying ties to covert U.S. intelligence services, and learning of secret CIA activities in friendly and allied nations like Australia, Boyce became profoundly disillusioned with the U.S. government, and began to think that selling U.S. secrets to the Soviet Union could be a way to protest against what the government of his country was doing.
Lee’s motivations for joining in this spy scheme related not to politics or idealism, but rather to money and the need to stay out of jail. Arrested repeatedly for drug-dealing, Lee had used up all the second chances that the U.S. justice system was willing to offer, and therefore he decamped to Mexico.
From there, the two friends’ plan evolved. At TRW in California, Boyce would photograph or photocopy various documents and other secret data, and would get this information to Lee. In Mexico City, Lee would then see to the delivery of the documents to the Soviets, utilizing contacts he had made at the Soviet Embassy.
It all sounds absurd, and yet it worked for a time for the two spies. At the same time, Boyce in particular seems to have been aware from the start that he and Lee were amateurs at spycraft, playing a dangerous game in an arena for experienced professionals. Passages like this one, detailing a conversation between Boyce and his mother, capture well Boyce’s feelings of foreboding:
Chris seemed to be a little more willing to talk about his life than usual, and his mother suspected that it might have had something to do with drugs or liquor. Something was bothering Chris, and she tried to ferret it out.
Chris shook his head as if to say he couldn’t tell her about the mysterious problem, and then said, "Mom, I’m going to have to do something that may embarrass Dad."
“Chris,” his mother replied quickly, “Don’t do it, please. If it’s anything serious, it could kill your father.”
“Mom, I’m sorry. I have no way out.”
His mother pressed him to explain what he meant, but Chris didn’t answer… (pp. 100-01)
If Boyce was already getting those feelings of impending doom that early in his and Lee’s entry into the spy game, then those feelings can only have gotten worse as time went on. Lee responded to the stress and tension of this dangerous way of life by increasing his own drug use; the unstable behavior that Lee displayed as a result caused Boyce to consider Lee increasingly unreliable, while Lee in turn feared that Boyce would cut him loose.
Against the background of that strain upon the friendship between the two young men, Boyce traveled to Mexico City and met Lee’s Soviet contact, an upper-level KGB agent. The Soviet officer offered to fund Boyce’s education – all the way through graduate school – and Boyce once again got that sense of being hopelessly enmeshed in the world of espionage:
The trap he had set for himself in an impulsive swipe at what he viewed as a corrupt, cancerous system had sprung again. This time, he knew it might grip him for the rest of his life. Wherever he went, whatever he did – whether he became a lawyer, a priest, a government employee, a teacher, whatever – he realized he might always be called on to work for the KGB….They could find him. By threatening to disclose the secret of his youth, the KGB could blackmail him into doing its bidding for the rest of his life. (p. 203)
It should be no surprise that Boyce and Lee’s entry into spycraft ended badly, with both men being arrested, tried, convicted, and sentenced to long prison terms.
Part of what gives The Falcon and the Snowman a degree of pathos that causes it to stand out from many other true-life stories of Cold War espionage is Lindsay’s emphasis on how young Boyce and Lee were when all these things happened – as when he describes Lee’s response to being convicted as a spy for the U.S.S.R.
Daulton shook his head in bitter disbelief. And then in a gesture that recalled his tormented glances toward his father years before, when he had dropped a fly ball or swung at a third strike, he looked quickly in the direction of his parents, both of whom had tears in their eyes. (p. 304)
Lindsay’s sympathy for Boyce in particular is clear to the reader of The Falcon and the Snowman. What Boyce did was terribly misguided and profoundly wrong – and millions of other Americans who shared his dislike of the U.S. foreign policy of that time did not respond to their disillusionment by becoming spies for a totalitarian, nuclear-armed enemy state. Yet Lindsay boldly invites the reader to understand, at some level, the inner turmoil that drove Boyce toward his brief career in espionage, while disapproving of the choices that Boyce made.
Boyce and Lee both were released from prison, after serving 21 to 25 years of their prison sentences. Lee worked for a time as a personal assistant for Sean Penn, who played him in John Schlesinger’s tense and well-crafted 1985 film adaptation of The Falcon and the Snowman; Boyce has written a book of his own about his experiences as spy and prisoner, and has expressed support for Edward Snowden’s efforts to publicize U.S. government secrets.
Decades after the events chronicled in The Falcon and the Snowman, the Russian Federation is behaving much the way the old Soviet Union once did, invading a neighboring country (in this instance, Ukraine) while reminding potential adversaries in the West of the strength of the Russian nuclear arsenal. The Falcon and the Snowman, always a fine example of meticulous journalism and well-crafted nonfiction writing, now takes on new significance, a fresh sense of menace, as a new Cold War impends.