By Ronald Drabkin
It’s been a long and unexpected journey—from the moment I discovered my father had been a spy, to seeing my nonfiction book, Rutland, Omae wa Dare Da, prominently displayed in the history section of Kinokuniya and other major Japanese bookstores. (The English version, published by HarperCollins, is called Beverly Hills Spy.)
The hero and villain of the story is one English war hero named Frederick Rutland. Born a son of a poverty-stricken day laborer in Victorian England, the odds of success were stacked against him. Yet, in World War I, he became famous as he flew a rickety plane from a ship on a mission over the German fleet during the Battle of Jutland. Later, discriminated against due to his low-class birth, Rutland accepted an offer to work for the Imperial Japanese Navy. Out of sight from other westerners in a large villa in Zaimokuza, Kamakura—just down the street from the future Admiral Yamamoto—he helped modify and update the Japanese aircraft carriers Akagi and Kaga, the lead ships in the Pearl Harbor attack. Then, he redesigned parts of the Mitsubishi planes to enable safe landing on those carriers.
The Japanese naval officers were impressed with Rutland and decided that this Englishman would be a terrific spy. In a move that surprised him as much as anyone, they moved him and his family to Hollywood. Hanging out with friends such as Boris Karloff and the Japanophile Charlie Chaplin, he stole significant technical and strategic information that helped the Japanese Navy execute their attack on Hawaii.
I never imagined I’d write a book—not with my shaky college English record and a career in tech that had nothing to do with history. But somehow, everything fell into place in the most unexpected way.
It all began after my father passed away in 2017. He had occasionally dropped hints about his time in espionage, mentioning that he’d been involved in “rounding up communists in Los Angeles.” However, he always stopped short of sharing any real details, leaving me intrigued but in the dark.
Curious about my dad’s shadowy past, I began digging into the world of espionage in Los Angeles. A few online searches eventually led me to file Freedom of Information Act (FOIA) requests with the FBI. For anyone curious, filing a FOIA request is straightforward—you can do it right on the FBI’s website. The FBI archivists were remarkably helpful in my search. If there’s any declassified information on the person you’re researching, they’ll send it to you.
As luck would have it, my timing was perfect. The FBI responded with recently declassified documents. While the files didn’t mention my family, they uncovered a gripping and little-known narrative: a clandestine network of Japanese spies and Hollywood stars, all coordinated by a rogue British pilot, Frederick Rutland.
The FBI files offered only the American perspective on Japanese espionage. To complete the picture, I turned to friends who serve as active-duty officers in the Japanese Maritime Self-Defense Force. Their passion for Imperial Japanese Navy history and their expertise were invaluable, helping me uncover details from the Japanese side of the story that I would never have found myself.
Official records from Japan’s Naval Intelligence in the prewar period were burned around the time of Japan’s surrender, with smoke rising over Hiyoshi, on the location of Keio University’s campus today. However, many of the Japanese Navy’s spymasters went on to write detailed memoirs after the war. These firsthand accounts offer vivid insights into the activities of Japanese spies, shedding light on their covert missions in Hollywood and other parts of the United States.
Returning to the story of my father, the spy: he worked for U.S. military counterintelligence in Los Angeles shortly after World War II. At the time, his unit was part of the U.S. Army, but has since become part of the FBI.
Much of his unit’s work focused on uncovering Soviet spies targeting aircraft manufacturers like Lockheed and Douglas. Lockheed, then as now, was a leader in developing America’s most advanced warplanes. During the 1950s, the Soviets were relentless in their attempts to steal information on the cutting-edge technology being developed there.
Before World War II, the Japanese Navy had mounted similar operations with the same goal: acquiring advanced American aircraft technology from Lockheed and other manufacturers. And, as history shows, they succeeded.
One of the primary objectives of prewar Japanese spies was to figure out how to make their planes fly farther on a single tank of fuel. With the vast distances of the Pacific Ocean, long-range capabilities were essential for any successful military campaign. Lockheed, at the time, was arguably the leader in developing aircraft with exceptional range—most famously exemplified by the plane they built for Amelia Earhart. Stolen information from Lockheed is believed to have played a significant role in the design of Japanese warplanes like the Mitsubishi Zero, which was renowned for its incredible range.
Lockheed and the FBI were well aware of the potential for espionage and kept a close watch for suspected Japanese agents attempting to infiltrate their operations. However, they were looking in the wrong places. As it turned out, no Japanese spies were found working inside the Lockheed plant. Instead, the source of the leaks was a surprising duo: Frederick Rutland, the celebrated British pilot, and his unlikely accomplice—an Irish night janitor. Even more astonishing were the janitor’s Hollywood connections: he had previously done odd jobs for Boris Karloff and Douglas Fairbanks’ brother, even using their names as references.
I’m thrilled that my book is now available in Japanese, and I can’t help but wonder how the Japanese reading public will respond to it. If I have one lingering regret, it’s that despite all my research, I never found any FBI or government records detailing what my father actually did during his time in intelligence.
Perhaps one day, if such files exist, they too will be declassified—and I’ll finally uncover the full story of my father’s mysterious past.