Spy chief was content to remain in the shadows
If you judge a spy by how well he or she blended into the background, Vinny Good can only be judged a success. Vinsen Edward Good, known as Vin by his colleagues in the New Zealand Security Intelligence Service (SIS) and Vinny to his family, has died aged 90. Except for a brief moment, when his name was made public after the trial of William Sutch, he spent his working life in the shadows.
His career coincided with a period in which the competence of the SIS was questioned after a series of scandals and claims that National prime minister Robert Muldoon used the service to undermine trade unions and political opponents.
Good joined the cloak and dagger world of the secret service at the height of the Cold War in the early 1960s, and retired after the Berlin Wall had fallen, having risen to the post of deputy director.
There was nothing about his early life that would have suggested he would one day become one of New Zealand’s highestranking spies. Born in Upper Hutt, he attended Trentham Primary School and Hutt Valley High School.
His first job, in 1951, was in a bookshop, and the following year he completed his compulsory military training at Waiouru.
Returned to Trentham, he again sold books and for a period worked at Cravens Appliances, where family legend says he did not work for a wage, but in return for appliances. During this time, he was an enthusiastic member of the Upper Hutt Repertory Society.
In the late 1950s, his friends Marg and Royce Doyle introduced Good to a young ward sister at Wellington Hospital, and he married Dorothy (known as Dot) Steel Smith in April 1959.
He joined what was then called the New Zealand Security Service in 1961. As was normal practice at the time, he was recruited after being tapped on the shoulder. Dorothy was a good friend of the wife of another service officer.
One evening, while sharing childminding duties, Vin was sounded out about a possible job in what was then known – for reasons of cover – as the general duties division of the Justice Department.
His family thought his job was opening letters in the Justice Department. The focus of his work was on subversion, which at that time meant watching communists (real and imagined).
He helped with surveillance and was involved in the espionage case that led to two Soviet diplomats and KGB officers being expelled from New Zealand in 1962. After a period spent in Auckland, he headed the branch of the service that dealt with protective security from 1974 to 1985. That involved vetting work and the newly emerging threat of terrorism
Vin was then posted overseas for four years, responsible for liaison with the security services of Europe, in particular MI5. During that time he had to deal with the aftermath of the Rainbow Warrior bombing and also the impact of the Anzus split, which followed New Zealand’s decision to become nuclear-free.
Returning to New Zealand in 1989, he became deputy director of the service, which was then headed by Lin Smith. He was invited to stay on in the role by the incoming director, Don McIver, but opted to retire in 1991 at the age of 60.
Sons David and Andrew say they did not know what their father did, and that did not really change until after the Sutch affair. In 1974, William Sutch, a senior public servant, was arrested and charged with supplying information to the Russians. The subsequent trial focused public attention on the SIS, especially after Sutch was acquitted.
His sons say their father was adamant that Sutch was guilty, even if a jury thought otherwise. The verdict raised questions about the efficiency of the SIS, and in those days it was not illegal to name spies.
Walking to Wellington College one day, David was confronted with the reality of what his father did.
Vin’s name and the fact he worked for the SIS was splashed across an overbridge. ‘‘When you see your father’s name emblazoned on the overbridge at Kaiwharawhara, it let the cat out of the bag.’’ His public outing and that of another spy, John Turner, led to David being bullied at school.
It was the culmination of a controversial period for the SIS.
The 1972-75 Labour government had ordered a review of the SIS. In 1977, Muldoon used the review to bring in sweeping new rules that gave the SIS much more power. Muldoon had already used information from the SIS to target political opponents in the Labour Party, including Colin Moyle and Gerald O’Brien.
Victoria University professor John Roberts told the Evening Post, in October 1977, that the new powers were a threat to democracy. ‘‘Unfortunately we know from recent events that information secretly and unlawfully obtained may be employed recklessly to persecute political opponents.’’
Legislation protecting the service from public scrutiny makes it impossible to know whether Good was involved in any of the scandals, or what he thought of the issues raised by Roberts.
Former colleagues, past and present, remember Good as an avuncular figure, always approachable for common-sense and practical advice. This advice was usually dispensed accompanied by the reaming, tamping and lighting of an ancient tobacco pipe.
They say he had an ‘‘innovative and imaginative management style’’ which included giving responsibility to junior staff in order to assess and develop their potential. In a period when women were limited to clerical and typing roles, he felt they had much to offer as career intelligence officers, and he encouraged them into relevant roles.
When presented with a problem he would invariably reach for his pipe, which allowed time for him to collect his thoughts. Described as a ‘‘shrewd and perceptive observer of humanity’’, Good’s opinions were said to be well-considered, and the advice he dispensed, usually based on life experience, was always sound.
Throughout his time in the service, Good was a stable figure among more flashy young intelligence officers who came and went.
While he did his share of field work, he was also happy to sit behind a desk and work his way meticulously through a file, rather than dashing around town in a Vauxhall Viva or Ford Escort.
With a reputation as a fount of knowledge, he would impart what he knew slowly and deliberately, accompanied by puffs on his pipe. His memory seemed almost photographic, and he could give detailed accounts of places and events years after the fact.
Good struggled with new technology; when others were moving to computers, he was happy to keep his notes in longhand.
In his private life, Good was a devoted family man who also loved dogs. In the 1990s, he was especially fond of his two cavalier king charles spaniels, Chloe and Jack. They had sterling silver collars from Asprey of London, which had been given to him as a farewell present from the head of MI5.
Good was devoted to Dot and was especially proud that she received a QSM for her work at the Ō taki Children’s Health Camp.
In 1992, they moved into a house they built in Waikanae, where they lived until Dot died in 2002.
Six years later, he bought a lifestyle block at Te Horo Beach where he lived with son Andrew, known as Squeak.
Together they developed a farm with chickens, sheep, pigs, cows, a nanny goat and an ever-growing vegetable patch and fruit orchard.
Anyone who visited the farm always had a great lunch spread, featuring his cheese and onion sandwiches, sausage rolls and cakes.
Even in later life, he seldom talked about his life as a spy.
Sources: David and Andrew Good, the New Zealand Security Intelligence Service.