by Hugh Purcell
In September 1970 a political crisis blew up that diplomats must dread; it blew in from nowhere and could have spiralled out of control. Freeman was involved not only as go-between but also as advice giver. On 6 September, terrorists of the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine (PFLP) hijacked three jetliners shortly after they took off from European airports towards the United States. Hijackers on the El Al. flight from Amsterdam were subdued in mid-air and the plane landed safely in London, so the PFLP retaliated by hijacking a fourth jet, diverting it to Cairo and blowing it up. The remaining two hijacked planes landed on a desert strip in Jordan called Dawson Field, where they were joined by a fourth hijacked plane three days later. Nearly 500 passengers from these TWA, Swissair and BOAC planes were marooned in the desert, now renamed Revolution Field. The aim of the hijackers was to trade these hostages for imprisoned Palestinian terrorists in Israel, Germany and Switzerland, from where these planes had flown, and from Britain too because a PFLP terrorist, Leila Khaled, had tried to hijack the El Al. flight from Amsterdam and was now under guard in London.
Edward Heath’s new British government was in a quandary. Sixty-five of the hostages were British. Should it ‘give in to fedayeen blackmail and save lives, or take a very stiff stand and run the risk of losing lives?’ It’s task was made more difficult because it needed to act in unison with the governments of the United States, Germany and Switzerland (the so-called ‘Berne Group’) and Israel too; and ‘any response needed to be concerted in Washington’. That is why Freeman was heavily involved. In essence, Israel refused to negotiate, the Berne Group was ready to trade hostages in Jordan for terrorists in their countries, organised through the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC), but the United States refused to put any pressure on Israel. And Israel’s cooperation, obviously, was crucial.
By 11 September, 375 of the passengers had been released and the planes blown up, but fifty-six hostages remained in the desert, Jews and Americans. Now tempers between Washington and London became frayed. Freeman was required, sometimes during the night, to convey messages between a rattled Alec Douglas-Home (British Foreign Secretary) and a nettled William Rogers (American Secretary of State). On 13 September, Prime Minister Heath announced that the British would negotiate come what may, and feelings boiled over in this transatlantic phone call between Joseph Sisco, a top White House aide, and Denis Greenhill:
‘I think your government would want to weigh very, very carefully the kind of outcry that would occur in this country against your taking this kind of action.’
Greenhill replied, ‘Well, they do, Joe, but there is also an outcry in this country,’ expressing concern that ‘Israel won’t lift a bloody finger and our people get killed. You could imagine how bad that would look, and if it all comes out that we could have got our people out but for the obduracy of you and other people so to speak … I mean people say, “Why the bloody hell didn’t you try?”’50
Freeman’s attitude, as usual, was to warn against any split with the United States. And with his usual ability for lateral thinking he proposed a way of keeping a united front but still securing the release of the remaining hostages. He suggested to William Rogers that the Israelis should ‘acquiesce through silence’ for the ICRC to negotiate with the PFLP, if only to find out exactly what its terms were for the release of fedayeen in Israel. This would, at least, gain time.
And so it happened. Soon the hostage issue was subsumed into a larger crisis. This was the ‘Black September’ civil war between King Hussein and the Palestine Liberation Organization (PLO) for the control of Jordan, into which Iraq and Syria could easily have been drawn. By the end of September, the Berne Group countries and Israel had all released fedayeen prisoners (including Leila Khaled) and the remaining passenger hostages were released.
Freeman’s decision to resign as ambassador was not unexpected but no successor had been approached so there was no hurry for him to leave. Catherine wanted the boys to finish their summer term at Sidwell Friends, a progressive Quaker school in Washington, while she took a temporary job offered her by Ben Bradlee, editor of the Washington Post, as TV correspondent. But Freeman was keen to go. On 5 January 1971 he said goodbye to the President and three days later he presented his ‘valedictory despatch’. He had three main points to make that most concerned Great Britain:
Vietnam is now a non-issue. In retrospect, the Cambodian episode appears a justified gamble, which has paid off, though at some cost to the President’s position, to national unity and of course to Cambodia.
The President has maintained his usual support for EEC enlargement [i.e. for the UK to join the common market] as a stable bulwark against Soviet pressure, despite opposition from those who fear their commercial interests will be damaged.
When Mr Nixon invited me to say goodbye to him on 5 January he said that he wanted me to be in no doubt that he regarded Britain as his closest and most trusted ally.
His signing-off was formal and courteous, without the tongue-in-cheek eighteenth-century parody he had adopted in New Delhi:
I now leave the service, of my own choice but with many regrets, after six very full and happy years. You will be losing a cuckoo from the diplomatic nest. But, if I may be permitted to say so (and for what it is worth), I leave as a committed and affectionate supporter of HM Diplomatic Service and of all it stands for, out of the infinitely resourceful and agreeable men and women who compose it.51
In The Washington Embassy: British Ambassadors to the United States 1939 –1977, John W. Young summed up Freeman’s six years as a diplomat:
He adapted to world diplomacy easily as High Commissioner in India, won the respect of professional diplomats and proved a success in Washington despite the worst possible start to his ambassadorship. He was an astute observer of the Washington scene and realistic about the influence London could wield there. His ambassadorship provides ample evidence of the way in which key individuals could keep the ‘special relationship’ in a healthy state even when its overall significance was declining.52
Lord Renwick is specific:
Of the ambassadors I served with, the best were Freeman, Christopher Soames [ambassador to France, 1968–72] and Nicholas Henderson [ambassador to West Germany and then France, 1972–79]. One of the three [Henderson] was a career diplomat, the other two weren’t. When it comes to political appointees to the Foreign Service, if the person is of sufficient calibre, he is going to do just as well as a career diplomat, but only if he is of the highest calibre. Freeman was, it is true, rather remote, cold and not naturally gregarious. His temperamental inability was to do the glad-handing, but it’s not a serious weakness compared with all his qualities.53
As for Dr Kissinger, he wasted no time contacting former Foreign Secretary George Brown to correct the statement in his autobiography In My Way that his appointment of Freeman to Washington was ‘a mistake’:
I can tell you that just the opposite is true, that indeed you can consider this appointment one of the wisest decisions you ever made. Starting his assignment under somewhat of a cloud, John has moved with great skill and charm to gain the admiration of all of us here. He is not only a highly able and effective representative of your country, he is a man with very fine human qualities. I count him a close friend as well as a respected colleague. (Henry A. Kissinger, The White House, 7 November 1970)
In 2015 I asked Dr Kissinger if he had been surprised and disappointed when Freeman decided to leave Washington – after only twenty months into his years of a successful ambassadorship? His answer was revealing. He said he had always assumed that Freeman left because of the change of government from Wilson to Heath. This shows how little Freeman discussed his life even with those few who considered themselves friends. Nor did Dr Kissinger realise how ‘compartmentalised’ Freeman’s life was, to use his own word. ‘I guess I never really knew him. He never talked about himself.’
On their final evening in America, John and Catherine were guests of Dan and Joa
nna Rose at a smart Manhattan restaurant, La Lutèce. Henry Kissinger was there, Wes Pruden with Corinna Metcalf, David Frost with the actress Diahann Carroll. There were toasts and speeches. The next day a photographer caught the ambassador crying as he left the residency, a most unusual sight and perhaps a sign of the strain he was under. Catherine had no idea what was about to happen.
The family moved back to London into a small rented house in South Hill Park in Berkshire, which had been found by Lizi. The house was ugly and the atmosphere miserable. After three awkward days of near silence, Catherine could bear it no longer. She asked Freeman what was wrong: ‘You’re very quiet. Why? You’ve stopped the job you didn’t enjoy and now we are all safely back at home.’ Freeman replied that he was unable to stay with her any longer, that he would go mad if he didn’t get away. For the second time in their life together she asked if there was somebody else. This time he said, ‘It’s Jude.’ She remembers:
At first I couldn’t think what or who he meant, then it dawned on me that he was talking about Judith and that he had planned all this with her in advance. He had sent her to South Africa while he detached himself from the Foreign Office and his family, and then he would be off to South Africa too. Later on, I realised that he must have started an affair in Washington when they had gone ahead to prepare the residency.54
Freeman could not leave straight away because of diplomatic protocols. He needed to attend a farewell dinner at Chequers so he begged Catherine to accompany him ‘otherwise it would look odd’. He left for South Africa a few days later. The very next day, bizarrely, Catherine was rushed to the Middlesex Hospital with acute appendicitis, leaving her mother and the ever-loyal Cynthia to look after the children.
Back in the United States their friends were in a state of shock. ‘We were all dumbfounded,’ said Joanna Rose. ‘She deeply, deeply loved him. She did not know about the Edna O’Brien story, she did not know about the affair with Judith; not a clue! Not a clue! It was cruel for Catherine. She was hurt for a very long time. He was the love of her life.’
After the shock came the speculation. The press took the view that the former ambassador had a low boredom threshold and liked to change careers and wives regularly. Every ten years was the figure John Freeman had given to Robert Cassen, probably sounding semi-flippant. Joanna Rose said the view in Washington and New York society was that Catherine was too much for John, too demanding, too extrovert, while John behaved like a Roman, cold and sensual. Corinna Metcalf agreed with both views:
Catherine asked me once why I thought John left her. I said, ‘You are a young man’s woman and John is not a young man.’ She had a lot of energy. She liked doing things and by the time of the Washington years he was tired. He probably wanted life in a lower key and Judith had none of Catherine’s sparkle and brilliance but she was undemanding, very easy, quite different. Also, John never stayed long with any woman during his most virile years. He had several wives and mistresses. That really is the key to John’s character. He didn’t do anything very long in his life, whether it was marriage or a job. Why he had to close these doors, keep changing everything, including children, I don’t know. It’s one for a psychiatrist.55
Dan Rose’s thoughts went in the same direction. ‘Professionally he was very impressive, knowledgeable, tough-minded and clear thinking. His interpersonal relationships were odd. Troubled. Abnormal. I think at the time we felt that. Either he was born that way or he acquired it through childhood experiences. He was a wounded person; no empathy.
Lord Renwick took a professional view: ‘I don’t think he resigned as ambassador because of the scandal. The Foreign Office by then could take divorce in its stride, why not? The fact is that after Washington there is nowhere else to go. You have occupied the most important foreign post. Where do you go after that?’
It would have been very difficult, however, for Freeman to continue as ambassador for a second term with the former social secretary at the embassy as his official mistress; particularly when his wife had had such a high profile and admired reputation. Freeman must have realised that.
Notes
1 The White House Years, by Henry Kissinger, Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1979, p. 95
2 In My Way: The Political Memoirs of Lord George-Brown by George Brown, Victor Gollancz, 1971, p. 131
3 Special Relationships: A Foreign Correspondent’s Memoirs from Roosevelt to Reagan by Henry Brandon, Atheneum, 1988, p. 321
4 ‘Pragmatic New British Envoy to US’ by John Freeman (interview with Anthony Lewis), New York Times, 5 March 1969
5 Covering note to John Freeman with brief on United States, 26 Jul 1968 (PREM 13/2158 TNA)
6 Ambassador to Sixties London: The Diaries of David Bruce, 1961–1969 edited by Raj Roy and John W. Young, Republic of Letters Publishing, 2009, entry dated 2 December 1968
7Brandon, op. cit., p. 321
8 The Washington Embassy: British Ambassadors to the United States, 1939–77 edited by John W. Young et al., Palgrave Macmillan, 2009, p. 172
9 Brandon, op. cit., p. 321
10 The Memoirs of Richard Nixon by Richard Milhous Nixon, Sidgwick & Jackson, 1978, p. 371
11 Bruce, op. cit., entry dated 25 February 1969
12 Young et al. (ed.), op. cit., p. 173
13 Ibid., p. 173
14 Hope, op. cit.
15 Ibid.
16 Akhtar interview with the author, 2014
17 C. Freeman interview with Ernestine Carter, Sunday Times, January 1969
18 ‘At the British embassy these days, the entertaining isn’t quite as formal’ (interview with C. Freeman), New York Times, July 1969
19 David (Allan) Burns, CMG, CBE interview with Malcolm McBain for the British Diplomatic Oral History Programme, Churchill College, Cambridge, July 1999 (www.chu.cam.ac.uk/media/uploads/files/Burns.pdf )
20 Sir Andrew Wood GCMG interview with Jimmy Jamieson for the British Diplomatic Oral History Programme, Churchill College, Cambridge, June 2007 (www.chu.cam.ac.uk/media/uploads/files/Wood.pdf )
21 Brandon, op. cit., p. 321
22 PREM13/2158 TNA
23 Sunday Times, 15 November 1970
24 The White House Years by Henry Kissinger, Simon & Schuster, 2011, pp. 95–6
25 Young et al. (ed.), op. cit., pp. 175–6.
26 Renwick interview with the author, 2014
27 Kissinger, op. cit., pp. 95–6.
28 John Freeman to Sir Denis Greenhill, 5 June 1970 (PREM 13/3081TNA)
29 Ibid.
30 Henry Kissinger interview with the author, 2015
31 Wes Pruden interview with the author, 2014
32 Kissinger: 1973, The Crucial Year by Alistair Horne, Simon & Schuster, 2009, p. 24
33 Nixon: A Life by Jonathan Aitken, Weidenfeld & Nicolson, London, 1993, p. 371
34 C. Freeman interview with the author, 2014
35 Corinna Metcalf interview with the author, 2014
36 Joanna Rose interview with the author, 2014
37 Akhtar, interview with the author, 2014
38 Harold Wilson ‘Secret and Personal’ letter to John Freeman, 5 November 1969 (PREM 13/3428 TNA)
39 John Freeman ’Secret and Personal’ letter to Harold Wilson, 17 November 1969 (PREM 13/3428 TNA)
40 Freeman to Greenhill, 2 December 1969 (PREM 13/3552 TNA)
41 Freeman to Greenhill, 15 December 1969 (PREM 13/3552 TNA)
42 Zeigler, op. cit., pp. 328–9
43 Telegram No. 1388, Washington to FCO, 30 April 1970 (PREM 13/3081 TNA)
44 Freeman to Greenhill, 15 May 1970 (FCO 73/131 TNA)
45 Greenhill to John Freeman, 19 May 1970 (FCO 73/132 TNA)
46 ‘Cinderella’s Night’, Women’s Wear Daily, 7 May 1970
47 Director Joe Angio, Nixon: A Presidency Revealed, History Channel, 15 February 2007
48 Cassen interview with the author, 2004
49 Washington (G. E. Millard) to Greenhill, 20 July 1970 (TNA)
50 Greenhill telephone c
onversation with Joseph Sisco, 13 September 1970, quoted in Britain in Global Politics Vol. 2: From Churchill to Blair by John W. Young et al., Palgrave Macmillan, 2013, pp. 166–7
51 John Freeman valedictory despatch, 8 January 1971 (FCO 82/42 TNA)
52 Young et al. (ed.), op. cit., p. 183
53 Renwick interview with the author, 2014
54 C. Freeman interview with the author, 2014
55 Metcalf interview with the author, 2014
Chapter 11
Media mogul
THE ORIGINS OF John Freeman’s seventh career may be traced to a BOAC flight from London to New York on 21 January 1967. The current maker and shaker of British television, David Frost, had an inspired idea. Borrowing a typewriter from another passenger he excitedly tapped out a letter to High Commissioner Freeman who was in New Delhi. He invited him to ‘control and direct the whole programme output’ of an ‘unstoppable television [his italics] team’ that would take on the ‘moguls’ of the commercial television industry in a bid to start a new weekend television service in London. This would become London Weekend Television, LWT for short.
Freeman replied that he was interested: ‘It would be a wonderful achievement for the practitioners of television to seize part of the franchise from the moguls and I should like to be associated with it. Whether I can is a more difficult question.’ On 9 February, David Frost flew to New Delhi and made a secret deal with the High Commissioner. Freeman told Frost that his India posting would probably end in July 1968, after which he would like to become ambassador to either the United States or the Soviet Union: nothing else would do. Nevertheless, he was enthusiastic about heading LWT at some stage. Frost suggested that the solution was to name him, confidentially, as deputy chairman on the bid to win the weekend franchise. ‘The date on which he would join us,’ wrote Frost, ‘would be the conclusion of his service in India, unless he was asked to serve in Washington or Moscow, in which case he would join following his service there.’1 This deal was to have repercussions throughout the history of LWT.