The turnover among Customs agents is surprisingly small and is among the lowest within the government. Few of them leave the Service voluntarily once they have launched into their careers. The reason for this stability was summed up by one veteran agent in this manner: “Every man likes to feel he is doing something worthwhile—and you get that kind of satisfaction from this work. That’s why I’ll never leave it.”
8
TEST TUBE DETECTIVES
Shortly before World War II, a rusted old freighter slid into its berth at a Baltimore pier, completing its long voyage from the Orient. Customs officers boarded the vessel to check the manifest, verify the cargo, and search for contraband. The search was the routine sort of thing that occurred every day at every major port in the United States.
An inspector hurried to the quarters of the crew members and began his rounds. He encountered nothing unusual until he reached one crewman’s cabin and found the door locked. He knocked on the door and a muffled voice said, “Who is it?”
“This is the Customs inspector,” the officer said. “Open up.”
The door opened and a seaman said gruffly, “There’s nothing in here. You’ll find everything on my declaration.” He was a slender, middle-aged man with thinning hair and tattoos on his forearms.
“It’s a routine check,” the inspector said. “You’ve got nothing to worry about.”
The seaman made no move to stand aside. “I told you there’s nothing in here,” he insisted.
“Look, Mac,” the inspector snapped, “you’ve been through this sort of thing before and you know it’s got to be done. So let me get at it.” He pushed his way into the cabin.
On a table he saw a hypodermic needle. He picked it up and turned to the seaman. “Are you a junkie?” he asked. “Have you got any narcotics?”