High life
Election times Tak,
Election time is nostalgia time. Especially election nights. Just as everyone remembers where they were when they heard that J.F. Kennedy had been shot, so does one tend to recall certain election nights of the past: 1946, 1960 and 1970 are three dates that stand out in mine. 1970 was the last time I was in London during an election. At Annabel's, to be exact. When the first results started to come in people began hooting and shouting. I was sitting with Nicholas Soames, Dominic Elwes and John Lucan. Soames was equerry to Prince CLharies at the time and very worried that enemy of management might end up, like his relatives, in Ekaterinburg if the old Bolshevik Wilson was re-elected. Elwes, "vas, as usual, unemployed and looking tier a rich patron. Under a Tory government :le would be easier to find. Lucan never patted an eyelid. 'Look at these c—s,' he Laid, 'they really think things will get better `,:teause of Heath. Just because he doesn't `I'iroP his 'h' when he says heeouse instead of °use, they think he'll be their standard bearer.'
%ow
Soames won't be at Annabel's this year. He is standing as a Tory in a Labour stronghold on the Clyde. The Tory Party reckoned that having served the heir to the throne Nicholas could put up with anything. Nor will Lucan and Elwes be attending. Nor, in fact, shall I.
In 19601 was in New York. At 781 Fifth Avenue to be exact. Playing poker. There were three Greek shipowners, my friend Zographos, and myself. Two of the Greeks were Arsenic and Old Lace. They were so busy being nice to George Livanos – the richest man of Chioa – that they managed to lose to him, although I had just taught him the game. Livanos – no fool – grabbed the money and ran. Arsenic, Old Lace, Zographos and myself continued. Arsenic took pot after pot and began to yawn. I desperately needed time to recoup and pleaded with him to stay and see if Kennedy would overtake Nixon. While Kennedy's people took care of the Chicago votes, I took care of a deck of cards. Arsenic ran into a royal flush with four of a kind. It was the roughest hustle, as they say in the trade, but it was needed. Kennedy, my father told me, was about to take everything away from us:.he, too, was a commie.
In 1946,1 was in school. Detention hall to be exact. I had been found using gold coins in order to gain admission to Kismet, a film starring Ronald Colman and Marlene Dietrich. My father had kept some gold in his safe when he left for the front in 1940. He
had told my mother that in case of dire need she could use it. Not being very mechanical she asked my brother and myself to help her open it one day. It was her biggest mistake. My brother opened the safe for me and I took the money and ran.
While waiting to hear my fate in detention hall on the last day of March 1946, the headmaster came in, pointed an accusatory finger and asked me to follow him. We walked outside the school gates, and to my horror I saw military police waiting. I was ushered into a black limousine which took off the moment I got in it. It raced through Athens to the old ochre palace of Otto. the fit st king of the Hellenes. I stepped out and was taken inside. In a large ornate room I saw some old men, a priest, and my family. And soldiers. I closed my eyes and cursed Marlene Dietrich. What a way to die. I thought, for a one-second glimpse of an ankle.
But not to worry. In 1946 the Greeks were, as usual, at each other's throats. The regent, Damaskinos, appointed my grandfather prime minister in order to conduct free and fair elections. When I was dragged to Parliament he was being sworn in. The next day, my brother and I were taken on board the battleship Missouri and given a tour. The Americans were showing the flag and making sure my grandpapa ran a fair election. For me it was the best of all elections. I even learned from an American sailor how to deal a poker hand.
Previous page
