It was 51 years ago, almost to the day, when an American U-2 spy plane piloted by Francis Gary Powers was shot down over the Soviet Union, revealing to the world the existence of the previously secret aircraft, and allowing the Soviets to prove that the U.S. was spying on them from high in the air.
Word of the incident, which was to play a volatile role in Soviet-U.S. relations, was relayed to the U.S., where Don Pritchard was serving as night security officer for the CIA in Washington D.C. Pritchard said he was overseeing security for a cluster of CIA buildings when he was called to a communications room.
“I was the duty officer that night,” said Pritchard, a longtime, if part-time, Hermosan. “It was an ‘eyes only’ teletype from headquarters in Germany, notifying us that the U-2 plane was shot down.”
Pritchard said he relayed the information to CIA Director Allen Dulles.
“I was the first person in Washington D.C. to find that out, and I called Mr. Dulles at home immediately and told him about it,” Pritchard said.
“Mr. Dulles, we have a problem,” he told the director. “One of our spy planes was shot down, and Gary Powers was taken into custody.”
Pritchard, now 80 years old and a practicing lawyer since passing the bar exam at age 67, is among those who say Powers betrayed his country by failing to eject from the spy plane after it was hit. Critics of Powers say the U-2 was rigged to explode shortly after a pilot ejects, leaving the Soviets with no spy plane to photograph and show to the world.
In addition, Pritchard is among those who say Powers was supposed to swallow cyanide and end his life rather than face interrogation.
“I tell you he was a major league traitor to this country,” Pritchard said.
In 1962 Powers was returned to the U.S. in a high-profile spy swap, and in 1997 he died in a helicopter crash near the Burbank Airport.
Pritchard said he had not known the name Francis Gary Powers before the plane was shot down, but he knew of the U-2. In those days, Pritchard did not tell even friends and neighbors that he worked for the CIA; he said merely that he “worked for the government.”
These days, Pritchard can tell whoever he wants that he works as a lawyer, in which capacity he has haggled over money from the “Lost in Space” movie, and won $875,000 for the family of a mentally ill prisoner who was stabbed repeatedly.
Pritchard splits his week between Temecula, where he has a home with Rebecca, his wife of 60 years, and the beach cities, where he practices law and spends generous amounts of time at Hermosa’s Underground Pub & Grill, where he is known as “Judge.”
He’s tall, handsome in a western movie actor way, and is given to easy camaraderie.
“I get all kinds of clients at the Underground – people getting divorced, personal injury, all kinds of DUIs,” he said.
Pritchard was raised in Ashland, Kentucky, where he and Rebecca became high school sweethearts.
He went into the U.S. Army at age 18, and returned to civilian life to graduate from George Washington University, with a law degree he would convert into a law practice nearly four decades later.
He went to work for the CIA, overseeing nighttime security in the agency’s old DC buildings, sometimes taking part in the search for moles by helping to break into safes and such while the targets were home in bed.
In time Pritchard realized that with a wife and kids he “could no longer work for the CIA.” He needed to make some money.
He also wanted to leave DC because the traffic into the government work cluster was horrible. Sitting in his law office on Artesia Boulevard, he illustrated the old DC roadway system by pulling out a legal pad and drawing a diagram that recalled Dante’s circles of hell.
He had come out to Manhattan Beach once to surf with a school buddy, and remembered thinking, “Wow.” So across the country he came.
He went into the private sector, including consulting with companies on financial matters. In time, after a business project had fallen apart, it seemed like time for a new beginning.
“I’m 67 years old, I’m doing just about nothing,” he said. “All my friends are dead or dying, and all I’m doing is playing basketball and surfing.”
So he dusted off his law degree and took the bar exam four times. The first three times life got in the way of studying, and the fourth time he passed.
His second year in practice he found himself in a Compton courtroom arguing a case, and the judge told him they needed help with the small claims caseload. Seeing something judicious in Pritchard, the judge told him to “come in next Thursday” and report to one of the secretaries. He did, and the secretary pointed to a row of black robes hanging from hooks, and told him to get to gaveling.
So he did that for a while. He also has practiced criminal defense, personal injury, probate and corporate law.
Along the way he and Rebecca bought the place in Temecula, and Pritchard, not wanting to drive back home every weeknight, got a work-week apartment in Hermosa. He makes his second office in the Underground, a short walk from his apartment. Everyone there knows him as Judge.
In 2003 he won an $875,000 settlement from the county on behalf of the family of Patrick Del Gatto, who was stabbed 16 times while sitting in a jail holding cell.
Attorneys for the county apparently did not want to face Pritchard in court.
“I told them I was going to go for $5 million if it went to trial,” he said.
Pritchard also represented science fiction film writer Ib Melchior in a battle over proceeds from “Lost in Space.”
Along the way he and Rebecca raised a daughter and three sons, including Jay Dean, who is named after the late movie icon James Dean.
In his ninth decade on this earth, Pritchard has quit smoking on doctors’ orders, refuses to quit drinking despite doctors’ orders, and is sticking to a low-carb diet pretty well.
On April 11, Rebecca’s 80th birthday, the couple hiked five miles in the mountains of San Diego County. ER
