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Former Secret Service Agent Shares His Advice on How To Live Without Fear

“Every time you take the president out of the White House, you introduce risk,” said Kenneth Valentine, retired Secret Service agent. But for Mr. Valentine, assigned to the personal protection detail for three U.S. presidents, his faith allowed him to do his job with confidence, “because I believed that I would be empowered to do my very best,” he said in an interview. Every time his team brought the president back safely to the White House, they joked that they had “cheated death,” but in his mind, cheating death also means living life to its fullest.  

While Mr. Valentine loved his career and never had any doubts that he was exactly where he was supposed to be, it was a high-risk, high-stress job that took a toll on his family life. To make things work, there needs to be a lot of humility, sacrifice, and collaboration. This philosophy is also what helped him persist. Three times, he told his wife that if she wanted him to quit so he could be home more, he would. Each time, she said no.

Mr. Valentine knew since his junior year in college that he wanted to join the Secret Service. Both his father and uncle were FBI agents, and that year, in 1988, President Ronald Reagan visited Purdue University, where Mr. Valentine was studying. His father was there to provide intelligence, and Mr. Valentine got “backstage” access to witness up-close what the job entailed. “At the last minute, I ended up going to the airport to watch Air Force One arrive and then the motorcade depart,” he recounted. “That had a big impact on me.”  

Encouraged by his uncle to complete a law degree first, Mr. Valentine did just that, got married, and then applied to the Secret Service. “I was in Jackson, Mississippi, and I remember very well taking in my application. The head of the Secret Service in Mississippi called me into his office and sat me down,” Mr. Valentine recalled. “I was very prepared to answer his questions and tell him why I wanted to do it.” When he got the news that he was in, he was so excited he couldn’t sleep for 48 hours. 

Mr. Valentine (far R) during his training days. (Courtesy of Kenneth Valentine)

What Gets Him Through the Hard Times

One thing Mr. Valentine appreciates greatly about the Secret Service is that staff members take the time to go into the homes of new recruits and meet with the people who are going to be impacted by the job. They want to be fully transparent about the challenges of the road ahead. Mr. Valentine and his wife didn’t have children when he first got the job; over time, their family and their faith grew together. 

The family was always aware that when he left for the day, he would first put on a bulletproof vest, he had a gun, and he’d been trained. “Bad things happen,” he said, “But there was no pressure to be a hero and make an unnecessary sacrifice. The efforts we undertook not only protected the president, but also ourselves.” Nevertheless, he always knew that what he was doing might cost him his life, and so he started writing letters to his kids: “I would write a letter on the stationery of the hotel and send it through the front desk so that it would get to the family in case something happened.” Over time, as letters and journal entries multiplied, he realized he had the beginnings of a book. That book, released in April 2024, is the accumulation of the lessons he learned and is titled “Cheating Death.” 

He and his wife have five children. He was present at each of the births, but he could never stay with the family for long. “Each baby was born on a weekday, and I would take the rest of that week off,” he said. “But then I’d be back at it [the following week].” Once, after being away in Colombia for several weeks, he returned home for a brief 14 hours before leaving again for Halifax, Nova Scotia. While he was home, his wife informed him that she was going to have another baby: “Well, that’s great! I have to pack a suitcase now.” 

In his book, Mr. Valentine details how faith gave him the strength to overcome challenges in his career. (Cody Corcoran)

Work was exciting. “It was so much fun that sometimes it was hard to remember that life back home was difficult,” Mr. Valentine said. As the children grew up, he became more and more intentional about carving out quality time with them since there wasn’t a quantity of time. “The boys loved rough-housing,” he said. “We would go in the basement, I would get down on the floor, and the three boys would just attack me.” With his two girls, he would set a time to take each one out and give his undivided, one-on-one attention. 

Family came first, but sometimes, Mr. Valentine’s line of work potentially put them in danger. One time, while they were living in Oklahoma, “our agents were involved in a shoot-out that resulted in the death of the guy we were trying to arrest.” Mr. Valentine immediately became concerned about the possibility of retaliation. After making the necessary arrangements to ensure the office and staff were protected, “I then googled ‘Secret Service Oklahoma.’ I was the one doing the TV interviews—I was the special agent in charge. My name, my photo, my home address all popped up.” 

Shocked at how easy it was to find himself on the internet, Mr. Valentine briefed his family about the need to be vigilant about “cars we don’t recognize, and if you hear the sound of breaking glass in the night, then here’s what you do.” He trained each of them how to low-crawl to a safe spot: “That’s the reality of being in law enforcement: You’re easy to find, and here’s how best to protect yourself.” He believes the be-prepared mindset has affected all of his children: “My daughter lives on her own in Chicago, and she’s not afraid: ‘I’m Ken Valentine’s daughter; I can take care of myself!’ she says.”  

Mr. Valentine’s faith helped him feel prepared without fear. “Faith is being sure of what you do not see,” he said. “My faith is tested every single day. Walking in faith is the exercise of what you believe, and sometimes it’s bumpy.” Nevertheless, he believes faith is a gift. “In work, if you believe that you’re where you’re supposed to be, doing what you’re supposed to do, there’s great freedom … in the Secret Service. I believed that I was empowered to do great things.” While Mr. Valentine always knew the job was risky, his faith gave him strength to do his very best, with confidence and peace.  

The Presidential Example

In his work, there were lots of times when Mr. Valentine and his team had to make quick and sometimes creative decisions to enable the president to do what he wanted to do. “All the president heard was, ‘Sure, we can make that happen,’ and what he didn’t see under the water was the churn,” he said. In return, Mr. Valentine got to observe and learn from the presidents he served. 

In President George W. Bush, Mr. Valentine observed and admired his great resolve and fearlessness: “Once there was an incident brewing in Peru, and the Peruvians tried to prevent the Secret Service from going with the president on a big on-camera walk. President Bush got a few feet in and realized none of us were with him, and he stopped the procession, walked back, reached over what was almost a fist-fight, and grabbed our guy and pulled him in. If we didn’t love him before, we loved him after that. The protectee turned around and protected us.” 

Mr. Valentine (far right) on a security detail for President George W. Bush. (Courtesy of Kenneth Valentine)

Mr. Valentine admired President Barack Obama for the way he handled stress. “He didn’t sweat the small stuff!” Once, when Obama was still a U.S. senator running for president, Mr. Valentine was on a small jet with him that landed in Iowa. Mr. Valentine was supposed to be the first one off the plane, so he stuck his head out and looked at a dark airport with no agents waiting for them, no car ready. He turned back and said to the pilot, “I think we’re in the wrong town.”

He had to go and tell Obama that they had landed in the wrong place. Obama looked up from his newspaper and said, “Oh. Where are we supposed to be? How long will it take to get there?” When he heard the answers, he simply said OK and continued to read the paper. “Other people might have been quite upset,” Mr. Valentine said, “but not Senator Obama.”

Being prepared, asking for help, and exercising his faith daily has allowed Mr. Valentine to do his job with confidence and return home safely to his family. Mr. Valentine wants to show people that living an abundant life and being confident through faith is surely the best way of cheating death.   

From May Issue, Volume IV

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Family Roots: Remembering a Heroic Cousin Who Caught FBI’s Most Wanted

It was nighttime in Sherrodsville, Ohio, August 1960. A car drove up to a house and parked. Two police officers got out and walked up to the front door. A woman appeared. The men asked if she knew the whereabouts of the notorious thief, jail-breaker, and FBI’s most-wanted at the time: Spunky Firman. She replied no. One officer tipped his hat and started walking back toward the car.

Her response must have been a hesitant “no,” or there must have been some other tip-off, because my cousin Chuck (son of my great-uncle), the other police officer, just deputized a few hours before for the manhunt, knew that it was his duty to search the house. He proceeded to do so. He walked upstairs and came upon a bathroom. Out sprang a man with a hand-held sickle. Out came Cousin Chuck’s gun. The sickle struck Chuck’s hand; the bullet hit Firman’s knee. So ended a manhunt that began a month earlier, when Spunky Firman had escaped the Coshocton County Jail. At the same time, something else began: a family legend that encapsulated what a great man my cousin was.

When Charles Amato died a few years ago, his son Nick made a very similar point by bringing this incident up. He mentioned the public recognition Charles Amato received for his bravery: a commendation from the then-FBI director himself, J. Edgar Hoover. Then, Nick mentioned how he had asked his dad years later where the citation was. Cousin Chuck, sitting down at his desk in the real estate office where he worked part-time, probably drinking coffee and smoking—things he enjoyed doing when not catching criminals—shrugged his shoulders and said, “You can go and get it, but that stuff doesn’t matter. It’s the people you serve.” Spoken like the policeman he had become—better yet, spoken like the man he already was when he caught Firman.

Chuck’s life was a rich picture of other virtues and acts of service. He attempted to join the police force full time soon after he made national headlines for catching Firman. One would expect that the police of Wellsville, Ohio, would welcome a man who had proven his bravery. But they did not, because of a strange fact that is now little recognized or remembered: There was serious ethnic tension between Irish and Italian Americans in those days, and cousin Chuck was Italian, while the mayor was Irish. For the first couple years of his service, Chuck walked the worst beats and took on the lowliest jobs in the department, all because of his ethnicity. He took this position because he took seriously the idea of putting service first. Eventually, he did move up in the police force, becoming a police captain.

There is one story that particularly illustrates his complete embodiment of what a police officer should be. He once arrested a mother, nicknamed “Tootsie-Dootsie,” at a nightclub, because she had left her four young children in the car. Afterward, he took the kids to Johnny’s Lunch for a meal and bought them shoes at Russell’s Store and some jeans. “Protect and serve” seems to be a motto that particularly fits this policeman. He displayed all the virtues most necessary: perseverance, bravery, unselfishness, and attentiveness.

It seems only fitting to cap off the description of a man who treated everyday life as an adventure with one more story: As mentioned above, Cousin Chuck had to literally walk the worst beats at the beginning of his career. His police chief would not even give him a car; instead, he was dropped off at remote locations to walk lonely country roads.

One day, there happened to be a festival in Wellsville: It was August 16th, the feast of St. Rocco’s. It is an important day for Italian Americans, and Wellsville had a fair share of Italian Americans, so it was a day of celebration for townspeople. One Italian American citizen who was not celebrating, however, was cousin Chuck, since he was out walking his country beat.

Meanwhile, two thieves decided it was the perfect time to rob a bank. The robbery went smoothly, and the getaway was going just as well. They were miles ahead of pursuit by the time the police radio dispatch went out.  

Then, they turned onto the very country road that Cousin Chuck was walking along. Chuck had been listening to his radio. He had no car, but he had a feeling the very road he was walking on would be perfect for the culprits: a little-traveled country road that could get one to a lot of different places. He set up a makeshift barrier of brush, hid himself in the trees, and proceeded to stop and search every car that came by. 

The robbers were not ready for either the barrier or for a lone cop to appear out of the woods, gun held ready. And so, in this manner, two armed robbers in a vehicle were stopped by a lone policeman aided only by his feet and his quick thinking. He was a hero again—or rather, just continued to be the hero he already was.

From April Issue, Volume 3