Search 5000 pages of genealogy:
search tips advanced search
site search by freefind
List of pedigrees
Bland of Northern Neck Va
Nicholas of Roundway
Hester of Fleming Co Ky
Author's DNA match comparisons
Visitors since
3rd February 2018:

Ni3-5-4-1 "Kitty" or Frances Young Fassett neé Nicholas,
author of Pop’s War: My Father, The CIA, and "The Green Death"

Ni3-5-4-1 Frances Young Nicholas is the daughter and only child of Brig. Gen. Charles Parsons Nicholas Ni3-5-4 and Frances Young Allen.
born 1933 in Kentucky.
Married 1st Richard Ashford Lee at West Point, N.Y. in 1955
2nd Stephen Fassett

At the age of 8 Frances decided she preferred being called "Kitty" and since then the General's daughter's word is a command.

"My own checkered career started after graduation from Vassar when I married Richard Ashford Lee. Despite his English sounding name, Richard came from a prominent Puerto Rican family, half of hispanic descent, and half English and American. His grandfather on one side had been a U.S. army doctor named Bailey K. Ashford, much revered in Puerto Rico for having discovered hookworm as the cause of tropical anemia. (In Puerto Rico there's a major avenue and a major medical center named after him.)

On the other side, his grandmother, named Catalina de la Concepcion de Mercedes Tapia de Lee, was the daughter of a famous Puerto Rican playwright, named Alejandro Tapia, for whom a large theatre there was named. The Tapia/Lee side of the family was colorful. One of Richard's aunts, Consuelo Corretjer, was a leader of the Communist party in the days before Fidel Castro´s victory. She frequently visited Cuba, where the contents of her luggage evoked the official response for contraband.

Richard's father, Wally (Waldemar), who ran a family company called "Casa Lee", was an energetic community leader with an irrepressible sense of humor that kept me laughing, so he and I got along famously.

But Richard left me nothing to laugh about, so after years of irreconcilable differences, I left the island.

My first cousin, Betsy Padin, also lived on the Island. She became a well recognized artist, also married a Puerto Rican.

My Stay in Puerto Rico did earn me a couple of degrees from the Puerto Rico Conservatory though. And I gave a few piano concerts on the island as well as in the Dominican Republic and in the States.

After leaving Puerto Rico I met my future husband, Steve Fassett, a self taught audio engineer and record producer. But repeated bouts of rheumatic fever as a child had weakened Steve´s heart so much that he had to drop out of school in the fifth grade and was educated at home from then on. He was picky about his subject matter, was prodigiously knowledgeable about opera, literature, and poetry, but arithmetic brought on fits in him, so balancing his checkbook was agony for him.

No one in his family had thought he would survive into his twenties but he surprised them all by getting a job in New York City with radio station WQXR, where he did weekly broadcasts on the subject of opera. I think it was there that he met his first wife, Agatha Illes, a Hungarian who had known Bela Bartok and wrote a book about him after they moved to Boston. In Boston he established his own recording studio in the basement of his house, and there recorded actors, poets, and musicians of all kinds, including folk singers like Joan Baez who were performing barefoot around Harvard Square at the time.

My happy marriage to Steve was was sadly brief, and four and a half years later, his heart, weakened by the earlier rheumatic fever, gave out despite all medical efforts to save him with a valve transplant. I carried on some of his unfinished record projects, the one that occupied me the most being the performances of Roland Hayes, with whom Steve had had a warm friendship and long professional relationship. I knew Hayes during his very last days, when Steve and I would go and visit him and his wife Alzada. Hayes would go into raptures about how nice everyone had always been to him, forgetting that when he and Alzada moved into their house in Brookline, Mass., people threw stones through their windows, and how in Georgia people had burned down his farm. Well anyway, after a lot of effort on my part against resistance from some record companies, I was finally able to complete the project with a CD put out by the Smithsonian in 1990.

Meanwhile, in 1986, with some money inherited from my other aunt, Katie Whitelaw, I had bought an old movie house in Maine and in 1990 I moved there and co-founded a non-profit performing arts organization called Waldo Theatre, Inc. There I kept busy producing various theatrical events, running art shows, and concertizing here and there in Maine, in Massachusetts, and on one occasion on a Russian riverboat making its way from St. Petersburg to Moscow. That was in 2003. Waldo Theatre, Inc. still exists, but the expense of keeping the theatre open was quickly running me into the poorhouse, so in 2006 I donated the building to the organization and moved to California, where I try to live within my means.

Frances Young Nicholas and Richard Ashford Lee had issue:

Ni3-5-4-1-1 Frances Allen Lee, born 1956, MBA died 2010 in Colorado leaving a daughter, Samantha.

Ni3-5-4-1-2 Prof. Edward Ashford Lee, born 1957.

Ni3-5-4-1-3 Maria Catalina Lee, born 1959.

My daughter Francie was very beautiful and very bright. She had graduated first in her class from a prestigious girls' boarding school called Dana Hall in Wellesley, Massachusetts, and then went on to graduate with honors from Yale. She then married Ray Barboza, a Puerto Rican blacksmith, rock singer and composer who later went on to work for the FBI. He and Francie were divorced after a couple of years. But I always liked Ray and he still calls me "Mom".
In Boston Francie got a job with the budget department at MIT, followed by an MBA from Simmons, followed by a job in the budget department at Boston College. At some point she met her next husband, David Davis, and after their marriage and the birth of their only daughter, Samantha, they moved to Colorado, where Francie was hired as assistant budget director of the University of Colorado in Boulder. Her husband Dave was a talented artist but that chapter had to be closed too, as artistic expression and spreadsheets don´t mix.
At some time after that she renewed acquaintance with her former Boston College employer, Mike Callnan. He became her devoted companion and moved to Boulder to take care of her after her diagnosis from brain cancer. Francie and I had traveled a lot together. She was full of fun and a spirit of adventure. In India we watched tigers and rode on elephants and took pictures of one horned rhinos. In Kenya we went up in a balloon and capsized onto a termite mound on the way down. In Vietnam a tour guide became infatuated with her and wrote a poem which he read to our entire tour group. It ended with these two lines: "I could never be her lover, for she is traveling with her mother."
Kitty has also written a biography of her prominent father, famous for his West Point text book for calculating canon trajectories in spherical calculus, for his role in intelligence during WW II and getting Heisenberg out of the reach of the Russians as well as co-founding the CIA. She portays him as seen by a young daughter with little talent for the intricasies of calculus her father believed was so important for education.

Pop’s War: My Father, The CIA, and "The Green Death"

The following layout has been adapted from the excellent blog by Akram Ahmad, which first made Kitty´s biography of her father popular.

A Natural-Born Organizer

My father was an organizer. He organized everything and everyone into military formations as if preparing for war. His instructions always appeared in the form of military memoranda—detailed like marching orders, leaving nothing to the imagination and no room for mistakes or creative interpretation. He organized his death as meticulously as he organized his life, and when the grim reaper suddenly ambushed him, my father was ready.

Pop’s "death plan," as the family called it, laboriously detailed step-by-step procedures to be taken when the time came: which funeral home to contact, what instructions to give the bank, and above all which newspapers to notify—making sure, of course, that his self-authored obituary appeared exactly as he wrote it.

A Stark Obituary

I was in my fifties when he died, his only child, and the task fell to me since my mother despaired over it and my aunts and uncles resented it, having never gotten along with him in the first place. Like a robot, I followed his directions, unaware of their content. Therefore it gave me a jolt when I saw the sensation-seeking headline composed by the Louisville Courier Journal: "CHARLES NICHOLAS DIES. WAS AN ORGANIZER OF THE CIA."

The Father I Knew?

Was this the father that I knew? The obituary spoke only of his career, of which I knew little, and in trying to learn more I found myself going down a rabbit hole. The article described my father the warrior—one I could recognize, with a solid build, steely gaze, and stentorian voice demanding absolute obedience.

But it said nothing of his early struggles to make ends meet, or his prowess as the poet laureate of his high school class. Nor did it mention his fondness for cats, nor his love of my mother, nor even of me, despite our never ending conflict.

Chocolate Cream Pies, A-Mile-High

He had spoken of some kind of Intelligence involvement during World War II in an organization called "G-2", while he sat behind a desk in the Pentagon—a building I remembered from my childhood for its cafeteria where they served chocolate cream pies a mile high. After the war he moved his office to a mysterious edifice called "The New War Department Building," which I could only visualize as a glowering structure restricted to members of some secret fraternity.

I had never heard the name "CIA" associated with it. To me the CIA was a shadow organization. It spied on other countries, set up military dictatorships, and involved itself in disasters like the Bay of Pigs. Whatever else it did, I had no idea.

The obituary continued: "General Nicholas, who had twice served on the faculty at West Point, returned to the academy in 1949 as chairman of the mathematics department. He retired from the military in 1967 after 43 years of service .."

I Will Remember You (As Well As My Detective Work)!

I knew painfully well that he had taught mathematics. His attempts to teach it to me had left us both limping from the battlefield. That was during his third tour of duty at West Point, the second time having been cut short by the catastrophe at Pearl Harbor, after which he was ordered to Florida. There we settled into a musty-smelling pink house and hung black curtains on the windows to make us invisible in case of night-time bombardment.

Military personnel patrolled the beaches looking for enemy submarines. I didn’t realize that this was the beginning of his career in Intelligence, but the atmosphere of intrigue seeped through to me. At age eight I organized my own detective agency among neighborhood kids when my cat disappeared. We searched for clues using magnifying glasses and never found the cat but I still wanted to be a detective and was laughed at when I said so on a local radio broadcast called "Crusader Kids."

Transferred To The Pentagon

It was from Florida that my father was transferred to the Pentagon. Our life in the nation’s capital was bleak as we moved from one rental house to another while my mother scraped together meals from scant wartime provisions. Sometimes we ate horse-meat prepared for Pickwick the cat, and sometimes Pickwick, adored and patronized by my father, would lay siege to our own meager beef rations on the dining table.

Of School And Chewing Gum Wrappers

Meanwhile, I was enrolled at the prestigious Sidwell Friends School, where my classmates bragged about their fathers who were leading armies in Europe, but how could I brag about my father who was sitting at a desk?

At school we collected chewing gum wrappers for the metal drive, under the illusion that they would be used to build airplanes, while I was unaware that my father was saving England, collaborating with British Intelligence in countermeasures against the German V-2 rockets that threatened London from the Coast of Normandy.

An Organizational Genius Rises To The Occasion

As a mathematical and organizational genius, my father was a perfect candidate for the nascent CIA, born after the war under the name of "CIG," or Central Intelligence Group. Pop had just joined it when West Point offered him another professorship. He loved West Point—its discipline, order, and predictability. In a letter that I found after his death he sorrowfully declined the offer, stating that the CIG needed him: "The Group is scarcely old enough to walk alone, and is in that difficult stage of attempting to function while it is still organizing."

If the job was as dull as described by Arthur B. Darling in his book, The Central Intelligence Agency: An Instrument of Government to 1950, it’s no wonder my father wanted to be elsewhere. The work seemed to consist of endless committee meetings and interdepartmental squabbles, with my father later admitting that he couldn’t stand anyone who disagreed with him.

The squalling baby known as "CIG" was designed to replace the only existing wartime intelligence-gathering organization, called "OSS," or "Office of Strategic Services," which my father ridiculed, calling it "Oh So Secret," while referring to its leader, General William Donovan, as "Wild Bill."

Sobering Events In The Wake Of President Roosevelt's Sudden Death

The OSS met its demise five months after President Roosevelt’s sudden death. His successor, Harry Truman, feared Donovan’s charisma and gave him ten days to dissolve the organization. Having to cobble together a replacement agency that would provide information to guide him through the emerging Cold War, Truman dragged in a reluctant Rear Admiral, Sidney Souers, to head the new organization.

Truman’s chief military adviser, Admiral William D. Leahy, described the inaugural event on January 24, 1946, as Truman presented the two of them "with black cloaks, black hats, and wooden daggers," and then outlined the duties for the new "Cloak and Dagger Group of Snoopers."

Government Departments Start Jockeying For Clout

These farcical beginnings erupted in jealousy between the Army, Navy, and State Department, each balking at the idea of any central organization that might reduce its individual clout. My father tolerated the brass from the armed services but deplored civilians from the State Department. The CIG was short lived, however, and by the time it evolved into the CIA, Pop had survived as its Assistant Deputy Director.

The Cold War, And The Mission Overseas

Around that time he went on some kind of overseas mission which he couldn’t talk about. As he departed I asked my mother "Will we ever see Pop again?" We had good reason for alarm. The early Cold War was a nasty time, with agents on both sides collecting German scientists and often murdering one another.

On the Russian side, the KGB’s predecessor, the NKVD, had a Section for Terror and Diversion called SMERSH, an acronym standing for a Russian phrase meaning "death to spies." Berlin was known as "kidnap town." When the East German security police dragged anyone across the line, people looked the other way.

A Brainchild Of The Manhattan Project

Although Pop never divulged the reason for this cloak-and-dagger escapade, I wondered if it had to do with the aftermath of the "Alsos Mission"—a name only whispered in our house until its scientific leader, Dr. Samuel Goudsmit, wrote a book about it and Goudsmit acknowledged my father as the Mission’s guiding spirit.

The Alsos Mission was the brainchild of the Manhattan Project, the organization developing the atom bomb for the United States. As a task force that stormed Italy, France, and Germany, gathering up uranium stockpiles and kidnapping nuclear scientists, it borrowed the code name "Alsos" from the Greek word for "groves," naming the Mission after the Manhattan Project’s leader, General Leslie Groves, who was annoyed by the name’s lack of subtlety.

The Mathematical Genius Returns to West Point!

After my father returned to West Point in 1949, he maintained contact with Dr. Goudsmit, and documents I found after his death indicated an ongoing connection with scientific intelligence, with access to classified information within the Atomic Energy Commission. In our new quarters at West Point I sometimes overheard him ranting about communists—probably aware that a spy named Klaus Fuchs had handed over the U.S. atom bomb secrets to Russia.

Mother, Ever The Gracious Hostess

But at West Point my mother could enjoy life in more comfortable surroundings. She was a perfect army wife, my father’s prize student in household organization, despite having been, unlike him, a child of privilege. She liked nice things—silk underwear, pretty clothes, and, more than anything else, attention by her peers. Although never much of a cook, she had a few favorite recipes and a flair for hosting candlelight suppers.

In August Company

In this new guest-friendly atmosphere I was privy to conversations with some of our distinguished visitors, including on occasions the famous Dr. Goudsmit. He had a charming Dutch accent, and over cocktails and dinner he and my father could now talk openly about the Alsos Mission, while reminiscing about an American spy named Moe Berg, a multilingual intellectual Jewish professional baseball player, who, steering his own course, reneged on his assignment to capture, dead or alive, Germany’s brilliant nuclear physicist, Werner Heisenberg.

Goudsmit, whose parents had died at Auschwitz, bore no grudge against Heisenberg, who, although loyal to Germany, was not a Nazi and had no intention of building bombs for Hitler. It was the Alsos Mission, with Goudsmit’s help and without Berg’s, that had brought him peacefully into custody.

An Unwitting Manchurian Candidate

My mother, who understood none of this, was nonetheless a gracious hostess and my father was proud of her social skills. But he was less proud of mine. As a lazy and rebellious teenager, I was sent to a convent school to be straightened out by nuns. However, my vacation days needed structuring.

Reveille started early with Pop’s voice, softly at first: "Kitty Puss?" Then louder: "Kitty Puss! Rise and shine!" Despite the fact that "Kitty Puss" was a term of affection, I knew that I could expect a cold water shower if I didn’t jump to attention. The morning would then be devoted to two hours of sports or calisthenics, followed by several hours of calculus study.

Granddad´s most burnt book volumes are grandson´s great prize!
And if granddad is looking down he must be pleased that someone enjoys
what most deemed the most tortuous of all reading!

Resurrected from the attic: The 1600-Page Calculus Book
(called "The Green Death" by all cadets)

By now Pop’s primary obsession was his magnum opus: a 1600 page calculus book—an army style directive in sixteen green volumes which, like his death plan, left nothing to the imagination. He spent five years writing it and I was his guinea pig. He viewed mathematics as an art form of the highest order. I viewed it as a form of torture. He viewed the West Point cadets as potential warriors with minds trained to think in equations. I viewed them as a bunch of sex maniacs.

The West Point cadets called Pop’s book "The Green Death" and set it ablaze at the end of every academic year. It was a form of mind control, creating automatons who on command would fire up neurons in their brains, line up axons, blast at synapses, and hack through jungles of equations while following my father’s exact orders as to how to think.

In a 1959 article entitled Mathematics and the Making of Leaders he described how Grant at Vicksburg had developed his battle plan along Pop’s own line of reasoning.

Meanwhile, Vietnam Was Bleeding...

But the Vietnam War was in progress and Vietnam wasn’t Vicksburg. At Vicksburg there had been no traps in the jungle floor to impale unwitting soldiers, nor sheer numbers of enemy forces appearing out of nowhere. General William "Westy" Westmoreland, who had once been one of my father’s math students, was up against a new kind of nightmare.

But Pop—and apparently Westy, too—saw it differently. After reading Westy’s version of the Tet offensive in his book, A Soldier Reports, Pop wrote to him: "Dear Westy: I was proud to observe in retrospect that my own judgments at the time agreed with what you say . . ."

Retiring From The Army, After 43 Years Of Service!

Meanwhile, Pop bullied the West Point academic board into doubling the class hours devoted to calculus. After his death his successor remembered him as "a stern disciplinarian." It appeared that the academic board had been as terrified of him as I had been in my childhood.

In 1967 Pop retired from his career of forty-three years in the Army. He and I fought less and I could now appreciate his love of poetry and the arts, which had always been there but hidden under mountainous obsessions. For his fiftieth class reunion he wrote a poem in ponderous iambics which, like everything of his authorship, was very long, but I was glad he could now concentrate on something other than mind control.

He and my mother bought a house in Florida, which allowed him to indulge his love of symmetry in a mathematically precise arrangement of household furniture, and also allowed him to indulge his love of battle in a war against invading garden pests and crabgrass.

Of Mischief And Scintillating Poetry

He had a mischievous streak and I remember his instructions to an employee on the makings of a martini: "Fill a large glass with ice, pour in a jigger of gin and just a drop of vermouth," he said. "Then when my wife isn’t looking add two more jiggers of gin."

He was an incorrigible punster, too, but most of all a gifted poet. One day he started quoting the first lines of his fiftieth reunion poem: "Return to jubilation! Scorn the woe – of mortal age and time’s relentless flow! — Do you know who wrote that?"

"You did, Pop," I replied.

He was disappointed. He’d hoped I would guess Milton. It was a good poem, although I resented one of its stanzas that stated that astronauts had returned to earth "on wings of mathematics." When it came to mathematics he just couldn’t let go.

I liked his limericks better. Here’s one that he wrote during a crisis with Iran that threatened to blow up the Middle East:
Our concern in the Strait of Hormuz
Is the flow of petroleum and booze.
If Khomeini’s curse
Keeps making things worse
We’ll invoke the aid of the Jews!

24 a

Old Soldiers Never Die; They Just Fade Away

I miss him. I miss the light that shone through once the career pressures had lifted. But to this day the voice of the warrior still speaks from my mind’s darker recesses—less audible, but persistent, still organizing and still directing. In General Douglas MacArthur’s own words at the time of his farewell speech: "Old soldiers never die; they just fade away."

The picture gallery:

    A set of three unique pictures, courtesy of Gen. Nicholas´ grandson, Professor Edward Ashford Lee—the Robert S. Pepper Distinguished Professor in EECS at the University of California at Berkeley—who happens to be the author of Plato and the Nerd:

    All three pictures are—recursively enough—pictures of "Pop" that hang in a hallway at West Point, featuring the mathematical sciences faculty and staff of the world renowned military academy in the United States (These pictures were taken in 2011) ??

    First picture: Professor Lee of UC Berkely (on the right-hand side) doesn't recall who the soldier is, standing right next to him (on the left-hand side). At any rate, sandwiched between the two gentlemen, the picture of another distinguished gentleman ("Pop") is in the middle: Out of the three framed pictures on a wall at West Point (all vertically aligned as you'll note above), Pop's picture is smack center ??

Second picture: Again, it's Professor Lee the author of Plato and the Nerd—yep, the same gentleman you saw earlier in the essay proper by Kitty Fassett, managing to stand tall as we saw him in that other picture while clasping a boatload that is the set of sixteen green volumes which make up Pop's calculus book, aka "Green Death" that were (still are?) part of the mathematics curriculum at West Point, and frankly, the most ever burnt books in all of West Point´s history. you see, Ms Fassett's writing (and I'm sure you will vigorously agree with this) is and will remain the calculus— now far be it from me to play with punctilious puns—by which I will henceforth judge my own writing. After all, what else  is calculus (now just make sure that your college professor is kept in the dark about this definition) but "a refined system or arrangement of intricate or interrelated parts." In the picture above, Professor Lee proudly poses alongside Pop's picture at West Point. Like father, like son!??

Third picture: a panoramic view of a hallway at West Point which features the mathematical sciences faculty and staff of the world renowned military academy in the United States ??

So why can´t we see a picture of Kitty in the gallery? Well, while many people joke about being afraid of breaking the camera when asked to pose, Kitty has always been afraid of being broken by the camera. You see, her parents always liked to dress her up to look like a princess, and she hated what came out: those princess pictures that were just not the Kitty she felt she was and as she wanted to be seen.

Reaching out to make friends:

After reading the above, Kitty, answered: "I’m getting a big laugh out of this one. Maybe I can save you some trouble, though, by sending you a photo. I like the one of me at the piano when I was less than two years old. I’m trying to find it so I can scan it in and send it. Meanwhile, I’m enclosing one of me taken in Kenya in 2002." Fourth picture: Kitty in Kenya in 2002 in another one of her efforts to reach out and make friends with exceptional beings.
Well, she might not break the camera, but that rhino might.

The only picture of herself Kitty likes:

Literally grand, isn´t it? Symbolic of things that would come.

The General´s interest in genealogy:

While living in Heidelberg in the ´70´s, the author corresponded at length with the General (solely on genealogical matters). Remembering the author´s grandmother, his own aunt, the General quickly sent copies of about 50 pages of his own mother´s notes recorded at the Filson Club in Louisville back in the ´40´s, as well as pictures of common ancestors. Letter after handwritten letter with page after page came detailling one ancestor or the other. Each page in fine well formed handwriting with little margin, each row perfectly straight and hardly ever a correction, all lined up, much like the rows of cadets he liked to watch marching on the field for review.

Once there was a hint that he had learned some traveler´s German and been in Germany, and having read his entry in "Who is Who", I wrongly assumed he had gone behind German lines between D-Day and the German capitulation, and not after the war. And there was a hint that he was writing something about the history of West Point, which I now see was his address for his 50th reunion.

His letters were always sent from the military bases in either Fort Lauderdale or Louisville and sealed with cellophane tape, to make any tampering noticeable. So I recognized that even in retirement he "played card games with his cards held closely to his chest." Hence it did not seem all that strange to me that, although he had helped a immensely getting the documantation needed to have the descent of the Nicholas family from the Ludlows of Dinton registered at the College of Arms in London, he asked me not to have his name included in the pedigree registration. It was to remain one of those things he knew that others did not, or maybe he did not want to be deemed a Royalist or in cohoots with a foreign nation, who knows? A very careful man indeed.

The wisdom of changing horses after crossing the stream:

Kitty writes how he at first declined an invitation for a third tour of duty at West Point, explaining that he was needed in the infant CIA.

But when he did choose to return to West Point in 1949 instead of becoming an attaché to Venezuela or seeking some other higher post, his family was disappointed that he had not taken the step into a glamorous diplomatic career.

Once the structure of the CIA was set up, however, he chose to leave it in the hands of men he trusted and had trained rather than stay in charge.

One must ask why he chose to go back to teaching. As a career officer, he did not speak about his reasons outside his office and maybe not even there.

I believe, on the one hand, that his differences with others in setting up the CIA led him to fear what the CIA was going to be up to in the years that came. On the other hand, he must have felt that it was more imperative for him to groom the character of the cadets who were yet to become the leaders of the nation by subjecting them to the rigors of exact logical and mathematical thinking. Certainly having so many men highly placed in command and in the administration with a strong background in spherical calculus was a boon when the space age came on. At West Point in the ´50´s he once caught a group of Cadets who had cheated on an exam including half the football team. He had them all expelled. Harsh punishment some may think. But an honest "D" student is more trustworthy and hence more worthy than a dishonest "A" student. The honor code has its reason, and he wanted only men of high principles and the ability to think with sharp logic.

So we may see his return to West Point as recognition of the importance of the Academy´s role in selecting and developing the character of the men who are to lead the country and to entrust this duty to no one lesser than himself.

The spherical calculus is a system of calculation that can take into account all factors influencing the course of a projectile, rocket or space craft - if you have reliable parameters for these factors. Anyone used to applying the calculus will always seek a similar system of calculation and the parameters for solving new problems. Alas, the murky depths of intelligance, international politics, Cold War, corruption and collusion have little to do with anything that anybody wants to get into orbit. The parameters of these depths defy the control and influence of ethics, calculus and the Gospel. But compared with a Gospel preacher ranting at the pulpit or an ethics professor boring his students to death, the General made a good showing: his boys did take part in putting a man on the moon, and by the eighties the concept of precision weaponry that could be concentrated on military targets rather than hitting civilians began making the reliance on weapons of mass destruction obsolete as a deterrant. Nowadays, the only ones propagating arsenals of WMD´s are those who have not been subjected to "The Green Death" or the like as part of their curriculum.
Source: List of Descendeants of George and Mary Anny Pope Nicholas, issued by Gen. Charles Parsons Nicholas Ni3-5-4
Frances Young Nicholas

Diese Website benutzt den FlashCounter Statistikservice, einen kostenlosen Dienst der Designagentur Team23 zur statistischen Auswertung der Besucherzugriffe. Für die technische Umsetzung werden Cookies (Textdateien, die auf dem Computer der Besucher der Webseite gespeichert werden) und die Speicherung Ihrer IP-Adresse benötigt. Diese Daten sind für den Anbieter nicht bestimmten Personen zuordenbar. Eine Zusammenführung der IP-Adresse mit anderen Datenquellen wird nicht vorgenommen. Die IP-Adressen und Cookies werden in der Regel nach einigen Tagen aber spätestens nach einem Monat gelöscht. Die durch den Cookie erzeugten Informationen über Ihre Benutzung dieses Internetangebotes werden auf dem Server der Team23 Internetagentur in Deutschland gespeichert. Die IP-Adresse wird vor deren Speicherung anonymisiert.

Ihr Besuch dieser Webseite wird aktuell völlig anonym von der FlashCounter Webanalyse erfasst.

Wenn Sie dies nicht wünschen, können Sie die Installation von Cookies durch eine entsprechende Einstellung Ihrer Browser-Software generell verhindern. In diesem Fall können jedoch auf diversen Websites nicht sämtliche Funktionen uneingeschränkt nutzbar sein.

Eine weitere Möglichkeit, nicht von der Webanalyse erfasst zu werden, ist ein Widerspruch in Form der Speicherung eines sogenannten Opt-Out-Cookies in Ihrem Browser. Solange dieser in Ihrem Browser abgelegt ist, wird FlashCounter Ihre Benutzerdaten nicht analysieren.

Bitte beachten Sie, dass Ihr Widerspruch nicht mehr nachvollzogen werden kann, wenn Sie die Website mit einem anderen Browser besuchen oder den Opt-Out-Cookie zwischenzeitlich gelöscht haben. In diesem Fall ist eine erneute Speicherung des Opt-Out-Cookies nötig.

Klicken Sie den folgenden Link, um den FlashCounter-Opt-Out-Cookie in Ihrem Browser abzulegen: