High life
Morality
Taki
New York Finding the Spectator in the Big Apple is at times as hard a task as discovering the truth about Princess Michael's father's past. Thus, two weeks after the revelations that he was no goody-goody, I still have no
Idea what the sainted editor's position is on that all-important matter. Nevertheless, I will venture an opinion and paraphrase Macaulay's words in 'knowing no spectacle so ridiculous as the British press in one of Its periodical fits of morality'.
Having said that, I also have to admit that I ain't no friend of the Princess. She is, however, not to blame for her father's sins. her only sin is to have lied about her father's . . . title. He is no more a baron than a certain columnist of the Spectator is an Old Etonian. Unless, of course, he was given an honorary title by the Nazis for being an honorary jailer. What I find amusing in all this is the role of the press. Seven years after the ex-Mrs Troubridge became royal, it discovered something that Was common knowledge among the rest of us high lifers. (Alastair Forbes had told me about the small-time commandant in 1978, and had advised me to keep it to myself, something which — for once — I did.)
Speaking of morality, I wish there were Periodic fits of it instead of the constant barrage of moralising one gets bombarded With in New York. As of this moment, the hot air emanating from the mouths of outraged Ronald Reagan opponents over his impending visit to Bitburg cemetery has Made the trees and flowers of this city
bloom prematurely. My opinion about Reagan's trip is that 40 years of true Friendship toward the Jews and the state of Israel has been discredited by those in the media who will do away with common sense in order to score political brownie Points with the most immature public this Me of Athens.
Which brings me to the intrepid Amer-
ican fourth estate, and its reluctance to Pursue with Watergate-like zeal the senior Senator from Massachusetts's latest shena- blilgans. Ten days ago, the night of the iagler-Hearns boxing match, another fight took place — a somewhat less heroic one, and one that yet again showed Ted I, "onedy's instability and immaturity. The °IllY reporter to tell it as it really happened was my old girlfriend Liz Smith, a lady with the kind of you know what Mrs Thatcher is known to have. The rest of the hacks sat on the fence, afraid to condemn the behaviour of the thug from Hyannis Port, LatId reporting verbatim the press release 'us henchmen put out on the following day. ,,It all happened at the Radio City Music gall, where the rich and powerful of this city had gathered to watch two black boys beat each other up and become multimil- lionaires in the process. In the first row of the loge sat a family by the name of Kramer. Behind them sat Kennedy, his brother-in-law Steve Smith, a heavy by the name of Bill Barry, and an assortment of Kennedy groupies-cum-thugs. The Kram- ers are extremely rich and are known for having forced the New York Times to give them the most comprehensive retraction in its history by sueing the paper for 150 million smackers. They are also extremely common. Their idea of culture is having a piano-shaped swimming pool, but on that given night they were offending no one. Just before the fight began on closed circuit, young Nathaniel Kramer, age 23, stood up to greet a friend. That is when the thug from Mass. told him to sit down in no uncertain manner. Kramer refused, where- upon a big hulking heavy grabbed him, tore his jacket and threatened him. As if that wasn't enough, Steve Smith, the man who will probably run Teddy's campaign in 1988, told the mother of Nathaniel that if her son didn't `cool it we will let our friend here throw him over the railing'. He also added that the friend was famous for `pulling guys out of cars and killing them'.
Wiser heads eventually prevailed, and the shoving and pushing continued at 21 Club after the fight, when the two groups came face to face once again. But the point of the story is not that. It is that here is a man who wants to be President of the United States, and still cannot control his thug friends from going around threatening and beating up taxpayers. The next day Teddy had his sister ring up the hacks with a statement. Par for the course, I say. He didn't even have the courage to do it himself. What mystifies me, however, is that they didn't bother to ring me. Perhaps they think I'm still in prison, a place I highly recommend for Kennedy's en- tourage.
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