Model ‘G-Man’ Hangs Up His Badge

Special agent Jeff Glover retires next month after 28 years with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. His presence will haunt FBI offices for a lot longer than that.

That’s because 2,000 small images of the Spokane-based crime fighter adorn desktops and trophy cases scattered all over the country.

Glover, 56, was the model for “The G-Man,” a 6-inch bronze statuette that has become a cherished memento given to federal and other law enforcement officers for jobs well done. There is even talk of erecting a life-sized G-Man at FBI headquarters in Washington, D.C.

Created in the early 1980s by Minnesota sculptor Rodger Brodin, “The G-Man” is a Tommy-gun toting 1930s federal agent. Those were the bureau’s glory days, back when the feds put a bloody end to gangsters like John Dillinger and Charles “Pretty Boy” Floyd.

The term “G-Man,” in fact, was introduced into the American vocabulary by George “Machine Gun” Kelly. “Don’t shoot, G-Men!” the hoodlum supposedly hollered moments before his capture by FBI agents in 1933.

“We had to get the Thompson out of the vaults,” says Glover, laughing softly at the memory of his modeling gig. The fedora and vintage suit with wide lapels he wore “belonged to the sculptor’s grandfather.”

Being immortalized in a piece of metallic desk art sounds like great fun, but Glover had serious reasons for agreeing to pose during his off hours.

It was all about fighting leukemia. Glover was assigned to the Minneapolis FBI office when the son of fellow agent Dag Sohlberg was stricken with the disease.

Thus began Glover’s crusade.

It would be a shame to see this good-hearted man retire without a few words of appreciation for all he accomplished.

Over the years, Glover helped raise $250,000 to fund leukemia research. About $100,000 of that has come from G-Man sales to law enforcement agencies. Twenty-five percent of each $240 keepsake sold goes to the cause.

The rest came from Glover’s talent for distance running.

In 1987, the agent spent his vacation running across Montana to raise money and awareness for leukemia.

Beginning at the state’s eastern border, Glover pounded out 23 marathons in 24 days for a total of 592 miles. The route took him through barren plains and up the Rockies in sweltering heat, deluge and bitter cold.

The odyssey ended on the Flathead Indian Reservation in Polson. A member of the tribe, Glover grew up there before moving to Spokane in 1948.

“You can never set your goals too high,” he told a reporter at the finish. “If you want something bad enough in life and you prepare hard enough, no matter what it is, you can accomplish that goal.”

The run probably cost him his left hip, which surgeons later had to replace.

A former track star, Glover set all the long-distance records at Memphis State University, where he graduated in 1967. But during his Montana quest, his sore hip from previous runs became excruciating.

Fifteen miles from the end, he sat in his camper with his wife, Margie, and their two boys, Jonathan and Adam, who had been following along.

He was already a day behind schedule. With the wind blowing a steady 30 miles an hour into his face, Glover didn’t talk about quitting.

It was Margie who came up with the answer. She drove him to the finish and then let him backtrack the 15 miles east, now with the wind behind him.

“She saved the run for me,” Glover says. “She’s my hero.”

With his new hip, Glover’s statecrossing days are over. But he still runs and plays tennis to keep fit. A bit frightened by the prospect of retirement, Glover says he’s looking into teaching and coaching cross country.

“They’ll probably forget about who I was,” the G-Man says of his law enforcement peers. “But hopefully they’ll remember the message.”