The head of Hitler’s nuclear bomb project was quite taken with
the Swiss who had engaged him in conversation following his guest
lecture in Zurich in late 1944. He was knowledgeable about physics
and spoke impeccable German.
The head of Hitler’s nuclear bomb project was quite taken with the Swiss who had engaged him in conversation following his guest lecture in Zurich in late 1944. He was knowledgeable about physics and spoke impeccable German.
The conversation eventually turned to the imminence of developing an atomic bomb, and the lecturer said, “Confidentially, we’re years away from that yet.”
The other man soon excused himself. Within hours the word arrived in Washington, D.C. and President Franklin Roosevelt relaxed. Morris Berg had scored another espionage coup for his country, and would not have to assassinate the lecturer.
Berg was born in New York City in 1902, the son of immigrant Russian parents. It was evident from early childhood that he had an excellent mind, but his pharmacist father worried that he was wasting it on such frivolities as baseball.
When Morris graduated from high school, he was accepted at Princeton University. He enrolled in languages and played shortstop on the baseball team. He and the pitcher confused rival teams by discussing strategy in Latin.
Following graduation, magna cum laude, Berg lacked the money to continue his education. He applied to the Brooklyn Robins – later the Dodgers – and was hired. In between seasons he enrolled at the Sorbonne, then later at Columbia University where he earned an attorney’s degree.
He was known as Moe Berg to players and fans, and Casey Stengel said of him, “He was the most unusual fellah to ever put on a uniform. He could speak a dozen languages but couldn’t hit in any.”
Over the 15 seasons Berg played for Brooklyn, Cleveland, Chicago, Washington and Boston – mostly as a catcher – he had a rifle arm and played well but was a mediocre hitter.
While with Washington, he was often feted by politicians and others who normally did not associate with athletes. Berg could speak on a myriad of subjects in any of seven languages.
But fans wondered why he was included in an all-star team to tour Japan with such players as Babe Ruth and Lou Gehrig. Roosevelt had asked him to secretly film the Tokyo skyline to aid the United States in event of war. With his charm and fluent Japanese, Berg gained access to the roof of Tokyo’s tallest hospital and got the pictures. They later guided American bombers.
When war erupted, Berg joined the Office of Strategic Services, predecessor of the CIA. He assessed the friendliness of South American countries on a tour, and parachuted into Yugoslavia to determine the strength of guerrilla groups.
Roosevelt wanted to award him the Medal of Freedom for his efforts but Berg declined “with respect.” With the war over, Berg accepted more CIA assignments.
In the late 1950s, he “became a vagabond” and stayed with family members and old friends like Ted Williams for weeks and months at a time. Wherever he lived, he was a frequent visitor to the ballparks.
When Berg died shortly after turning 70, his sister followed his instructions to have his body cremated, took the ashes to Jerusalem and buried them in a secret place.
A reporter asked the nurse who attended Berg in his final illness what his last words had been.
She smiled wistfully and said, “He asked how the Mets did today.”
Herman Wrede is a Free Lance correspondent whose column appears every Friday.
