Personal column
Toby O'Brien
I cannot remember a nastier winter or a worse September, October, or November, although on December 1 in my garden in the country I had a Nellie Moser clematis in bloom and a magnificent delphinium whose brothers in the same bed had bloomed in July, and I also saw a brimstone and a small tortoise-shell butterfly. My barometer, despairing of the weather, is now stuck between 'Rain' and 'Much Rain'.
Anthony Eden once told me a nice story about his father and barometers. Sir William Eden was one of the best watercolourists of his time (come to that Lord Avon is no slouch as a Painter either), and was also one of the greatest riders to hounds, being Master of the South Durham. One perfectly appalling day the hunt met at his house. The field came into the hall to have their stirrup cups and the Master came down the stairs, his red beard clashing violently With his hunting pink. He did not say a word to anybody, but went straight across to an eighteenth-century barometer on the wall. This said 'Set Fair'. He tapped it. It still said 'Set Fair'. He tapped it again, wrenched it off the wall, threw open the front door and sent it skiddering across the sodden gravel exclaiming: "Look for yourself, you bloody fool!"
Booking the hall
I have often found some of our "brethren neath the western sky", particularly those connected With show biz, a distinctly rum lot. For instance, a little while ago the young ladies representing one of the greatest American cinema and television firms came to my Office with the following proposition. Could I arrange a dinner party for 200 of the 'leaders' of British society in a fortnight's time and take Buckingham Palace for this purpose? The recipient of this honour was some pop singer Who, I daresay, my young acquaintances would Probably know all about, but of whom I had never heard. They were at pains to point out that money was no object and Her Majesty would not be out of pocket. This was indeed a slight challenge. You can, in fact, if you give the right notice, and the recipient is perhaps rather more distinguished than an American pop singer, take St James's Palace or the Painted Hall at Westminster. We managed to get hold of the Royal College of Art, but happily before they sent out any invitations our friends decided that the pop singer would have to go dinnerless to bed on the night. I suppose one could have got a few of the aristocracy as there are a certain number of well-known 'hunger marchers' (no names, no Pack drill) who are known to organisers of chantable and other functions in London, but I Was once more amazed at the naiveté of the show-biz world. I cannot believe the BBC would expect to be able to lay on 200 Senators, Congressmen, and so on at a fortnight's notice and hire the White House for the purpose.
Cecil B. de Mille
Among the more bizarre happenings of my misspent life was when I found myself some Years ago appearing at the top of the list of the People whom Mr Cecil B. de Mille was going to meet in "London, England'', as "Mr E. D. 0 Brien, Public Relations Consultant to The Ten Commandments". (I laid on a Foyles Literary Lunch for de Mille, and, as I said to Father Martin D'Arcy, the famous Jesuit, "I should have thought that the Holy Father Might have disputed my claim to that title!")
Russell Hadley Junior, a delightful product of Harvard or Yale, who was then the VicePresident of Paramount Europe, suffered slightly from his transatlantic colleagues' ignorance of our customs. One letter from them began: "Russ! This is not a program. We are still waiting to hear when Mr de Mille is going to be received by the Queen and what honours he is to receive, such as the Garter." Shades of Lord Melbourne. Mr de Mille, who was charming, civilised and highly educated, was making a tour of Europe for the launch of The Ten Commandments. He • had been received by the Pope, decorated by the President of Italy, ditto by de Gaulle, and ditto by Adenauer. My role on his London visit was to see that all the bishops of various denominations, the top Methodist and other religious dignitaries including the Chief Rabbi, should have a private screening before the film's premiere for the Red Cross. De Mille told me that the one person he really wanted to see in Europe was Sir Winston Churchill. I took the precaution, knowing what a tremendous film addict Winston was, to have the film sent down to Chartwell where the old gentleman saw it twice in his private cinema. (This was 71/2 hours viewing time!) He then sent a message that he would be delighted to see Mr de Mille but only wanted me to accompany him. So on a foggy November evening we went round to Hyde Park Gate. There Anthony Montague Browne, who was his secretary for the last thirteen years of Winston's life, said that Winston was tired and had gone to lie down, and would Mr de Mille mind seeing him in his bedroom? Of course, de Mille was tickled pink. There was Winston in his vast double bed with just a sheet over him watching his big toes which he was wiggling under the sheet.
There is not the space here to tell the whole story of that memorable hour. I recall, though, that half way through de Mille said: "You know, Sir, I got the idea of the first part of the film, 'Moses as a Young Man', from an article you wrote in the Herald Tribune or the New York Times in about 1931. Anyway, it is reprinted in your book Amidst These Storms."
Winston twinkled at de Mille and said: "Alas, I fear I have forgotten. I have written quite a lot you know, but we must look it up tomorrow, must we not Anthony?" Then he turned to de Mille again, and laid his hand on his arm, and said: "But, I am indeed delighted to learn that from what you say it would appear that Moses and I are responsible for your movie."
Office menace
The curse of anybody working in industry or commerce nowadays is the 'temp' — the illiterate young lady who for vast sums takes on the job of temporary secretary. I was so irritated by a batch of these expensive and idle young women that I wrote a letter to the Daily Telegraph. This produced a splendid correspondence addressed to me personally. One lady who had worked for a most important City magnate described how, while she was there, they had in a 'temp'. To her the magnate dictated a letter which used the phrase, "Triennial Balance Sheet". This appeared in the hands of the temp as, "Try Any Old Balance Sheet"!
Ah well, with the stock market in its present state perhaps she had something there!
E. D. O'Brien is a former Director of Publicity at Conservative Central Office and has since directed many public relations firms.
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