PROFILES: AFTER 25 YEARS, SPECIAL AGENT LUMMUS STILL ENJOYS THE HUNT

As a child in rural Texas, James R. "Jim" Lummus relished the excitement and glamour of the Federal Bureau of Investigation in books and film.

One of his favorite movies was "The FBI story" starring James Stewart.

"It was really the premier law enforcement agency in everybody's mind," he says.

But when it came time to pursue a career, he opted for petroleum engineering and business in college. Upon graduation, Lummus followed in the footsteps of several uncles, working for an oil company.

But the draw of the law compelled him.

A family affair

His father was a coach and school superintendent. His mother taught school for 40 years. There were no law enforcement officers in the family.

When Lummus first contacted the FBI in 1963, he didn't qualify. The agency was accepting only attorneys and accountants right out of school. Other applicants had to have three years of experience as executives or investigators.

"I talked my younger brother into applying. I had read about it extensively. It was late in law school, and he didn't know what he wanted to do."

He smiles at the memory. His brother joined in October of 1968, and Lummus followed suit the following February.

He found the excitement and danger of his boyhood daydreams. Lummus has arrested so many criminals he can't remember them all.

As for the glamour, that may have been just Hollywood hyperbole.

His austere office in the Cape Girardeau Federal Building these past 18 years offers few luxuries. The tiny sign at the plain brown door is easy to miss: FBI Resident Agent. The stark white walls are lined with a few Department of Justice photographs and an official seal. There are plain wooden desks, dark filing cabinets, and a dubious view of Fountain Street.

But it is from here that he has worked on bank robberies and murders, assisting in most of the high-profile cases that grabbed the headlines in Southeast Missouri.

Crime as a job

Dressed in a gray suit and tie, he looks like a businessman. But in addition to pens and business cards, he packs a .45-caliber semi-automatic Sig Sauer pistol.

"I'm a policeman," he says, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. "But the laws I enforce involve crimes against the U.S. The FBI has jurisdiction over 250 different federal crimes. A lot of these involve crimes of violence -- bank robbery, kidnapping, extortion. A lot of your violent fugitives are wanted for some federal crime."

His once-dark hair is brushed with gray, his face deeply etched. He still speaks with a hint of a Texas drawl. At 57, he prides himself on physical fitness and expert marksmanship.

He's a no-nonsense kind of guy, hardened by his years of criminal pursuit. And little shocks him anymore.

"Bank robbers have told me, `You've got your job and this is my job.' They'd rather do that than get up and work eight hours a day. They like the lifestyle, and they accept the fact they may get nailed."

Many criminals are smart and didn't have to turn to crime. "But it's their preferred lifestyle. That's because crime pays," he laments.

Lummus believes this is especially true for white-collar crime, which doesn't carry near the punishment of violent crime.

"Too often they get a slap on the wrist and a few years in jail. The federal sentencing guidelines are much better for violent crime and narcotics, but they're extremely lenient for white-collar crime."

Last Friday, after 25 and a half years on the job, he officially retired.

The thrill of the hunt

He began his career in Omaha, Neb., In 1970, he transferred to St. Louis where he specialized in bank robberies.

It remains his investigation of preference.

"There's nothing like the thrill of the hunt when your quarry is an armed human."

And there is nothing like the satisfaction of catching the bad guy and making the world a better place for everyone, he says.

Lummus considers a bank robbery a direct challenge to law enforcement.

"Bank robbers know there are cameras and alarms, but they try to beat the system anyway," he says. "I'm always ready to take their challenge."

For all the risks, statistics say the average bank robber gets $6,000. But you will never hear that from the FBI directly. It is department policy not to release the amount stolen.

Bank robbers can also be very brutal.

He recalls one case where a banker, his wife and teenage daughter were all murdered in the early 1970s.

"He took them hostage in their house and took them out in the woods and tied them up. He then took the banker to the bank, got the money, and killed them all. Most bank robbers are pretty cool. He knew them. Killing them was just part of the plan."

The suspect was apprehended and convicted for murder and bank robbery.

In his line of work, Lummus says it is best not to have a lot of emotion.

"Still, sometimes you just think, `How could a person do that? How could he kill a family in cold blood for money?' It's disgusting to think they could think that much of stealing and loot to take a life."

Helping hostages

He also served as a SWAT team leader in St. Louis when it was a new concept in the early 1970s. His SWAT team was called for many high-risk situations, typically when guns were drawn or hostages taken.

Some of these situations lasted minutes. Others dragged on through the night.

"One of the hairiest I worked involved an aircraft skyjacking in 1972 at Lambert Field."

The plane was taken in flight and eventually landed in St. Louis. A big part of the negotiations took place on the ground at Lambert, although the suspect would never talk with the hostage negotiators directly. "He would only relay messages over the radio through the flight crew."

The skyjacker demanded half a million dollars from an airline and threatened to shoot the passengers.

In the middle of tense negotiations, a man broke through the airport gate in a car and rammed the airplane.

"He was just a citizen," says Lummus, still incredulous all these years later. "The car caught on fire. We're lucky the whole plane didn't. Thankfully, the hijacker stayed pretty cool. He wanted the money."

The airline eventually paid the ransom and gave the hijacker another plane. He parachuted out over Indiana and lost the money on the way down.

"Some farmer found it in a field," he says with a wide grin.

"No one was killed. We consider that the mark of a successful operation. Our primary objective is protection of lives and, secondarily, protection of property."

He has used this specialized training many times in various hostage negotiations in Southeast Missouri -- including the recent incident at the Veterans Affairs Hospital in Poplar Bluff.

He can't discuss that case, because it is still pending, Lummus recites in his official tone.

Split-second decisions

An outgrowth of his SWAT training is his expertise with firearms, which remains "near and dear to my heart."

He feels today's law enforcement officers are better armed and much better trained.

"I know there's a lot of hype in the media right now about assault weapons, but I don't see many used in crimes."

He was one of three agents working out of the Cape Girardeau office, which covers 19 counties. The small staff means agents seldom work with other agents. They work closely with state, county and city law enforcement.

He praises the recent upgrading of law enforcement training in Missouri to 450 hours from 120.

"In times of stress, law enforcement officers have to make split-second decisions that judges and lawyers will argue over for three weeks. I'm amazed how often law enforcement makes the right decision."

A shift in crime

He transferred to Cape Girardeau in 1976. For many years, the bulk of the investigations involved property crimes.

An operation from 1980 to 1982 ended with 100 auto theft convictions and $5 million in recovered property. "Auto theft is the third largest in the nation in terms of dollars to the criminal element. The only two that generate more money are narcotics and arson."

But Lummus says the workload has shifted.

"I've seen a big transition here to white-collar crime, especially insider bank fraud."

Local agents spent considerable time on the First Exchange Bank case more than a year ago. The case received national attention when Cape Girardeau banker Don Chilton and his wife Patricia committed suicide near Palm Springs, Calif., about the same time they were indicted for bank fraud.

"It was a huge case with five banks and a holding company."

Lummus was surprised by their deaths.

"I can never understand why people select suicide. That's no solution. It's just a waste."

The fact none of the other Exchange Bank defendants went to trial isn't unusual. He says about 90 to 95 percent of the cases he files end up in a plea.

He also has noticed a sharp increase in narcotic-related crimes.

"The average bank robber used to do it for the money. Now, a high percentage steal the money to buy narcotics."

Cocaine was also a rarity when he first started. It was marijuana and heroin back then. Now, cocaine and crack rule the streets and crime.

The hardest cases

The father of two boys, Lummus says cases involving youngsters are some of the toughest.

He recalls the frustration of working the Gina Dawn Brooks case. She was a Fredericktown teenager who disappeared in August 1989 riding her bike. She was never found.

"You feel bad for the victim and the grieving parent. As a parent, you wonder how they handle it. I can't think of anything worse, never knowing what happens to your kid," he says quietly.

When these cases involve randomly selected victims, they can be the hardest to crack.

He worked the cases of a college girl later found drowned in the river, a woman kidnapped from the mall who later committed suicide and a college student who was abducted from a store parking lot and shot to death in East Cape Girardeau, Ill.

"These are the cases you look back on and really wish you had gotten the break you needed," he reflects. "A lot of people put too much emphasis on law enforcement. Most of the time it's some citizen who saw something and comes forward. Citizens have a lot more sets of eyes out there than law enforcement. They often provide the break we need."

Always on duty

A hazard of the job was always being on duty.

"I even took a gun away from a kid during a scuffle at a high school basketball game," he recalls.

Just one of the crowd, he saw the start of the fight. Lummus noticed the gun and jumped into the fray.

"I managed to get the gun away, which turned out to be stolen from a local burglary. I guess I was always on duty," he says.

Lummus has reached the mandatory retirement age for all federal law enforcement officers.

"I was eligible for retirement at 50, but I stayed on. I just like it."

But he sees retirement as a lifting of a tremendous responsibility.

His wife, a school teacher, probably won't miss all those calls in the middle of the night, he says.

He plans to spend a lot of time fishing, skeet shooting and hunting -- small game this time. He will also teach at the Southeast Missouri Police Academy.

And no doubt he will continue to read about and watch movies about the FBI. After 25 years with the agency, he still enjoys the thrill of the hunt.