Friends and the Other Strangers Among Us

A friend applying for a job with the Justice Department listed me as a reference, and last week I got a phone call from a woman at a federal agency I’d never heard of: U.S. Investigative Services. She said she was doing some of the background checking on my friend and wondered if I’d be available to talk to her about him. Sure, I said. Forty-five minutes later, she was in my office.

Some of her questions were generic. Any reason, she asked, to think my friend would be unsuitable for a job with the government? Any reason to question his loyalty to the country?

I know I should have just answered “Yes, ma’am” or “No, ma’am” to all her questions, but, instead, I got philosophical. Maybe I’ve been reading too many newspapers and watching too many talk shows, because at some point I asked aloud whether any of us can really know what someone else--even our friends--are like.

For example, how many friends of Sgt. Major Gene McKinney, the Army’s highest-ranked enlisted man, would have thought he’d be charged with sexual assault?

How many of sportscaster Marv Albert’s friends knew he had a long-running affair and who knows what other bedroom secrets?

How many of 19-year-old British au pair Louise Woodward’s friends thought she’d ever be convicted of murdering an 8-month-old baby?

How many of O.J. Simpson’s friends--well, you know how that question ends.

After telling the investigator that I considered my friend a person of integrity, affability and salt-of-the-earth decency, I had to throw in: “I’m under no illusion that I can read anyone with total certainty.”

I hope she didn’t write that down in her notes. I realized too late this wasn’t the appropriate time to be launching into a college-dorm treatise on whether we really know our friends.

I told the investigator I felt pretty confident vouching for my friend, but then she threw me with a couple other innocuous questions. Had I ever been to his house? Uh, no. Did I know any of his other friends? Uh, no. Did I know if he had any drug or other bad personal habits that would render him unsuitable? Uh, no.

My knowledge of him was based on a series of lunches we’ve had over the last few years--lunches that began as baseball gabfests because of our mutual allegiance to the Pittsburgh Pirates but that then broadened into personal things. I met his family once, I know what his wife and children do, and I know about some of the other jobs he’s explored. I knew a little about his health and pastimes, but when it got right down to it, do I really know him?

The answer is yes and no.

We all have instincts about people we meet. We either like their company or not. We have a sense of whether a person is one of the good guys or bad guys. In my friend’s case, I built my admiration for him on his disposition during his protracted job search and his uniformly good humor about life’s vicissitudes.

But what if I’m way off base?

Can I say for a fact that he’s not an ax murderer? I suggested to the investigator. No, I guess I couldn’t say that. Could I say with 100% certainty that in his private moments, he doesn’t blow sky-high and lay waste to the countryside in fits of rage? No, I couldn’t.

After the interview, I wondered which friends I’d nominate to vouch for me. Would it be the ones who have known me the longest, or those who know me in a more casual way? In either case, would they say, “Yeah, he’s aces,” or would they say, “He tries to project an easy-going image, but there’s something scary underneath it.”

Whenever a maniac is arrested, the neighbors always say, “He seemed like such a nice guy.” I reported once on a multiple murderer in Colorado of whom one of his longtime acquaintances later said: “He was a fun-type person.”

Many, many years ago, there was a popular TV weatherman in Omaha. Dadgum if it wasn’t later reported that he’d left a family in another state that had no idea where he had gone and changed his name when he got to Omaha. Everyone was “shocked.”

I probably should insist that the federal investigator let me see her notes on our conversation. Let’s hope she didn’t write down somewhere: “Reference cannot rule out that applicant is an ax murderer.”

I think she knew I was talking theoretically.

At one point, as I continued going over the top, I mused that my friend might have “some dark side that I’m not aware of.” I told her if he got the job and it turned out he did have a dark side, that I’d appreciate her giving me a call to let me know.

Oh, well. All I was getting at is that we can’t know everything about people, even our friends. We want certainty, but we can’t have it.

The interviewer probably left wondering what kind of friend I am. If nothing else, my confessions here send a message to my other friends: Don’t put me down as a reference.

Dana Parsons’ column appears Wednesday, Friday and Sunday. Readers may reach Parsons by calling (714) 966-7821, by writing to him at The Times Orange County Edition, 1375 Sunflower Ave., Costa Mesa, CA 92626, or by e-mail at dana.parsons@latimes.com.