Shirley Temple

by Anne Edwards

  Two other American women were waiting in the car. After a ten-minute, fear-filled wait, they and Shirley were joined by two more women. A tank with four soldiers, weapons poised, came abreast, stopped and then moved on. Their car’s driver started up Štěphǎnskǎ Street. They were headed, he informed his passengers, for the American embassy. He could tell them no more than that. A ride that would normally have taken ten minutes stretched into nearly an hour as the station wagon encountered one roadblock after another before reaching the arched entry of the walled embassy, where ten other cars were lined up. The curb was crowded with American officials, embassy families and travelers. Shirley was asked to move to the front seat of a Mercedes sedan parked before a black station wagon draped with an American flag. “It reminded me of a hearse,” Shirley recalled.

  A young embassy worker slipped behind the wheel of her Mercedes. They were to lead the convoy of cars to the checkpoint, he explained. Then the flag car behind them would take over the lead. They were headed for the West German border, a trip of 115 kilometers through dense forests and occupied areas.

  The convoy moved forward at a snail’s pace, having to halt every few minutes for roadblocks of Russian tanks and armored vehicles. After five hours of this stop and go, Shirley’s driver got out of the car to talk to Russian officers about letting them through a roadblock, and she was commanded to drive on and pull up ahead. This was the checkpoint. After her driver returned, three more Americans joined their car, and the flag car, as planned, took the lead. By now, there were nearly one hundred cars in the convoy.

  Their progress was slow. Nightfall was approaching when they finally reached the border. An hour later, with only about half the members of the convoy allowed to cross the line,* Shirley and her fellow refugees were being given coffee and C rations by the U.S. Army serving with NATO. A special train then took the group to Vienna, where they arrived at 5:00 a.m. the following morning, exhausted and showing the strain of the last forty-eight hours. Canceling her previous arrangements, Shirley returned home the next morning via Lufthansa to San Francisco, where her family and nearly a hundred newsmen met her.

  Dressed crisply in a navy-blue suit with starched white collar, a white cloche hat topping her outfit, she looked surprisingly chipper. With a blazing bouquet of red carnations in her arms, she faced microphones and television cameras. Then she handed the flowers to Susan and held up a record. “It’s the Czech national anthem,” she said. “They are not playing it any more.”†

  Undeterred by her grim experiences in Czechoslovakia, Shirley set out once again for Europe on September 4, just ten days after her return. Her national press coverage had been decisive in the Republican National Committee’s immediate creation of European branches in France, Germany, Belgium, the United Kingdom and Italy. To help get out the absentee vote for Nixon among Americans living in Europe and to raise money for the Republican party, Shirley spoke at meetings and rallies in Rome, Paris, Frankfurt, Brussels and London.

  After Richard Nixon was indeed elected, Shirley’s efforts were turned toward the task of maintaining a Republican majority in Congress. She traveled wherever the Republican National Committee thought her presence was needed. Despite a rumor that she might be appointed chief of protocol, an offer of the position did not materialize.

  “There is no doubt in my mind,” a co-worker says, “that Shirley hoped for. . . a Cabinet post—Department of Health and Welfare, preferably—or as an ambassador to a major country. She had paid her dues, worked hard, and really was responsible for getting out the vote abroad. She still had this amazing magnetism, an ability to charm the hell out of an audience, to hold their attention. She was never good at [extemporaneous] press conferences. . . . But with a memorized, rehearsed speech, she was really a wow. . . . Most speakers look over their audiences heads or down at their text. Shirley almost never did. Before she got to the podium, she had selected various scattered members of the audience and spoke from time to time directly to them. I never saw another political speaker able to do this. And, of course, there was that dimpled smile—easy to come, flashed often and so winning.”

  Not until August 29, 1969, seven months into his presidency, did Richard Nixon give Shirley an appointment, naming her as a member of the United States delegation to the United Nations. Charles had recently become president of Marine Development Associates (Mardela), and at the time of the announcement the Blacks were on a deep-sea fishing boat off Oahu in Hawaii, where Shirley had spoken at a testimonial dinner for Republican Senator Hiram Fong of that state. Contacted by the press on ship-to-shore telephone, she said she had not yet been officially notified, “but I’ll take your word for it. It’s the thrill of my life.” She added that the United Nations was “a great hope for peace in our world.” This was in contrast to an earlier statement made during her congressional try. At that time, she had been quoted as saying that while the UN serves “as a means of communication,” it conveys “mostly communist propaganda.”

  At the Western White House (Nixon’s home in San Clemente), Press Secretary Ronald Ziegler commented that he was “not aware” that “Mrs. Black had made such statements, but nonetheless, the White House has confidence in her. We’re sure she’ll do a good job. That’s why she was appointed.”*

  On September 16, the United Nations convened in New York. Shirley had only two weeks to prepare for the session. Charles decided to accompany her to New York and would commute to and from San Francisco during the thirteen weeks of the General Assembly sessions. Shirley’s parents had recently moved from Palm Desert to Woodside, and Gertrude, although ailing, could keep an eye on Lori, now a lovely fifteen-year-old with hopes for a future career in some phase of music. Shirley and Charles took a suite of rooms at the Barclay Hotel, a short walk from United Nations Plaza.

  Autumn had come to New York. Days were turning crisp, the East River a grayer hue, and the leaves on the sturdy trees along the bank that sloped down from the Plaza were in flame. When Shirley stepped off the plane at Kennedy Airport, she carried “a vivid red patent-leather briefcase decorated with a blue ‘N’ for Nixon—a souvenir of the victorious election the year before.” Whatever else, Shirley’s new adventure was to be colorful.

  Footnotes

  *Many Czechs had joined the convoy, hoping to reach the West. Thirty-seven of their number were known to succeed. They were mostly in cars with Americans and British.

  †The Soviets justified the invasion of Czechoslovakia by claiming that the Czech government had requested assistance. NATO declared the invasion illegal and demanded withdrawal of Soviet troops. In a Moscow meeting, Czech leaders acceded to Soviet demands to abolish liberal policies and agreed that Soviet troops remain indefinitely. In April 1969, Dubcek was forced to resign, and a pro-Soviet Czechoslovak government was installed. Dubcek was assigned a job as a forestry worker. Historians and scientists were turned into night watchmen and stokers; theologians became street cleaners. That the battle for liberalization had not been entirely lost was shown in January 1977, when a manifesto was smuggled out of the country proclaiming the antitotalitarian convictions of a large bloc of Czechs.

  *Named with Black as principal representatives for the next United Nations session were Charles W. Yost, permanent U.S. representative to the U.N.; William B. Buffum, deputy permanent representative; Congressmen Dante B. Fascell (D., Florida); and J. Irvin Whalley (R., Pennsylvania).

  15 THE BARCLAY, Shirley’s home in New York, was built in 1926 as an opulent fourteen-story apartment hotel catering to the very rich. Harold Stirling Vanderbilt lived for sixteen years in an apartment of seventeen rooms on the top floor. A circular staircase of onyx and marble led to the hotel roof, where Vanderbilt had his private squash court and gymnasium. Perle Mesta occupied an even larger apartment comprising an entire floor, where she gained her pre-ambassadorial reputation as the “hostess with the mostes’.”

  After World War II, the Barclay became known as a frequent residence for United Nations representativ
es. Shifting fortunes and “the lingering aftermath of bankruptcy” (when the hotel’s owner, the Penn Central Railroad, failed) had sent the hotel into “genteel decline.” When Shirley moved into a suite once kept by Mary Pickford, the Barclay was not only old-fashioned—despite renovations in the mid-1950’s, it was “downright seedy.”*

  One night, a creature Shirley “took to be a mouse brushed up against her leg. She called the hotel operator and said, ‘There’s a black mouse in my room.’ The operator answered, ‘There are no black mice in the hotel, it must be a rat.’ A hotel employee with a flashlight arrived in time to see the rat run off into its hole.”

  Like a once-splendid dowager who has seen better days, the Barclay also had its charms. Compared to the cavernous mirrored and glittering lobbies of more modern hotels, the Barclay lobby, with its great skylights, wrought-iron gates, decorative plaster work, wood beams, leather sofas and dark wood furniture, offered a clubby atmosphere. Permanent guests remained in the majority, and half of the third floor was rented by the Manhattan Club, a powerful organization of New York’s legal and political community whose members included Mayor John Lindsay and Senator Jacob Javits. Shirley arose early to prepare her breakfast on the hot plate in the small kitchenette of her suite, which overlooked the heavy traffic on Forty-eighth Street.

  The United Nations, its more than one hundred brilliantly hued flags snapping in the brisk October wind, rose over verdant gardens and marble statuary beside the East River. In its enormous, gilded assembly hall, the delegates met, hoping to bring forth miracles. Across the broad thoroughfare of First Avenue was the mission, which contained the offices of the delegates; Shirley’s was situated on the seventh floor.

  To walk from the Barclay to the United Nations complex took no more than ten minutes even at a leisurely stroll, but Shirley had received a series of life-threatening letters soon after her arrival. A New York City police detective, paid for by the UN, was hired as a bodyguard, and she was driven by chauffeured car wherever she had to go.* The writer of the letters was never found, nor was a reason ever given for the threat to her life.

  The few days that she had before the start of the sessions were spent acquiring a knowledge of parliamentary procedure and an instant background in intricate international problems. Whatever her politics had been before, her appointment to the UN would permanently affect her thinking. She was to become, from this point in her life, involved and well informed in foreign affairs, the Third World and environmental matters. Suddenly, people began to take her seriously.

  International travelers (almost everyone in the United Nations) had been plagued throughout 1969 by a Swissair ad campaign whose punch line was “Heidi wouldn’t lie.” The week Shirley was to be sworn in, a British diplomat deadpanned to a group in the UN delegates’ lounge, “You know that old saying about diplomats being sent abroad to lie for their country, well, you Americans have got the perfect answer with Shirley Temple on your delegation. You can use the slogan ‘Heidi wouldn’t lie.’”

  The Briton’s drollery was a harbinger of the prejudice that might be awaiting Shirley. Former U.S. delegations had contained stars from various fields of entertainment: In 1957, Irene Dunne had served on the Third Committee (where social, humanitarian and cultural matters are debated and voted upon before they are reported to the floor for plenary sessions); Marion Anderson had been an appointee in 1958; and throughout that decade Myrna Loy had served on several special committees.

  “A certain faction of the U.S. delegation resented me,” Loy admitted. “There existed an obvious division between the down-to-earth people who understood my reasons for being there and the intellectual snobs who looked down their noses at the movie star invading their ranks. This ivory-tower mentality . . . infuriates me. I certainly do not think we [actors and entertainers] are second-class citizens . . . I entered [the meeting she was to speak before] scared to death but prepared and dressed to the nines. Women should never be intimidated in dressing down to strengthen their professional image. . . . My speech emphasized the difficulty in selling peace. . . . Well, [at the finish] the place came down; they just kept applauding. One [man] came up, took my hand and said, ‘You belong.’ That meant a lot to me. Despite my unruffled exterior, I was afraid, unsure of my abilities. . . .

  “[Shirley’s] appointment caused general skepticism. ‘What have we got here, Myrna?’ Ralph Bunche [undersecretary-general to the United Nations at that time] asked. ‘What have we done now?’ They doubted her capability. . . . Our politics differ—she is a confirmed Republican—but I really applauded her accomplishments in the United Nations.”*

  Clad in a poppy-red suit, her high-heeled, ankle-strapped shoes buckled in rhinestone, her hair lacquered into a beehive, Shirley was sworn in along with the other members of the United States delegation on Tuesday morning, September 16, at 11:00 A.M. Although officials stressed that the delegation would serve as a team, the press corps made it evident that “the spotlight at the oath-taking” was on Shirley. “I’m all goose-flesh,” she commented as cameras recorded her genuine excitement.

  The delegation discussed the day’s agenda, ate lunch together in the delegates’ lounge and then “mingled on the floor of the huge Assembly Hall for about half an hour.” All around them, other delegates (approximately 600 from 126 countries) shook hands, slapped backs and “generally [behaved] like the members of any other club gathering for an annual event.” At 3:00 P.M., Shirley took her seat behind the arc of desks assigned to the United States in the great blue, gold and pale green assembly hall, its gilded decorations dazzling in the warm light. Shortly after the session opened, the five-man delegation from Swaziland marched barefoot to its seats, strikingly attired in off-shoulder togas of bright red and red-orange with bold black-and-white geometric designs. Massive bone necklaces adorned their costumes. The chief delegate wore four feathers in his hair; the other members, according to their rank, three, two, one or none.

  The first order of business was the election of the president for that session. The statuesque, ebullient Angie E. Brooks of Liberia, who had served as chairman of many UN committees dealing with decolonization and was the adoptive mother of nineteen refugee children in addition to her own two, was the overwhelming choice. She had been the unanimous nominee of the African states—it was Africa’s year for the presidency—and the other members never questioned her selection. Mrs. Brooks “sailed unhurriedly up the aisle of the Assembly, resplendent in flowing blue and white robes, and a tall silken turban. Swinging an enormous red and black handbag, she climbed the stairs to the podium, heartily embraced a surprised U.N. official who guided her to the chair, and took her place next to the beaming Secretary-General U Thant. Then, after acknowledging the ovation of the delegates, Angie Brooks—the first African woman to serve as Assembly President—let them have it.” Last year, she said, the assembly had shown, “the opposite of dynamism,” that “advisably or by default” they had “either sidetracked or ignored important world problems and thus contributed to the gradual decline of the United Nations in the eyes of public opinion.”

  When asked later how she felt about taking on the demanding role of president of the General Assembly, Mrs. Brooks replied, “I am proud of my continent, my country and my sex.” Then she winked. “Not bad for a woman, eh?”

  The delegates of the twenty-fourth session of the United Nations faced a long list of major issues, which included: “resolutions concerning arms control and United Nations peace making machinery; treatment of prisoners in the Vietnam War; Chinese representation in the U.N.; the situation in the Middle East; and the need to promote fiscally sound U.N. budgetary policies, including reduction of U.S. assessment.” Congressman Dante B. Fascell, a member of the American delegation, recalled: “One of the sessions’s most positive accomplishments, which I remember well, since I helped lead the struggle, was to secure passage of a resolution calling on nations to take the necessary steps to punish hijackers. This was the first time the UN had taken
such a firm position on this issue, and was a major success in marshaling world opinion against the hijacking epidemic of that time.”

  He also remembered that shortly after the delegation had arrived in New York, a press conference was held. This was Shirley’s first exposure to the issues confronting the UN. “She had not had an opportunity to read the first cable or position paper. So, when a particularly troublesome question was raised by a reporter, Mrs. Black—without blinking an eye—said, ‘Dante Fascell, as a member of the important Foreign Affairs Committee, will answer that question [what the U.S. should do about Vietnam]. . . .’ Her tone and manner did not raise any feeling that she was evading the question or that she perhaps was not sure of the answer. It was an adroit handling of the question. . . .

  “She immediately became an integral part of the U.S. delegation . . . they were aware, of course, that her fame and popularity would bring considerable attention to [their] work and the U.N. . . . That is exactly what happened.

  “During disarmament talks with the Russians . . . Shirley unexpectedly found herself alone, without advisers, facing a highly technical question about ‘airborne-sensing techniques.’” Unwilling to admit to a full Soviet delegation that the United States representative was unprepared, she filibustered, telling them everything unclassified she knew about outer space and avoiding having to answer the question, “a most clever diplomatic ploy,” a colleague commented.

  As far away as Taiwan, banner headlines heralded “The Beloved Lady Delegate.”

  She had hoped to be assigned to a position on one of the health committees. Instead, she was placed on the Third Committee to work on social, educational and cultural activities and problems—a position called “the performer’s chair” by Myrna Loy. Shirley took the appointment with grace, but after she spoke with Charles Yost, the delegation’s permanent representative, he assigned her to several interassociated committees dealing with the problems of youth, social progress, environment, peaceful uses of outer space and refugees.