In My Own Time

by Jeremy Thorpe

  Another alarming incident I recall on the programme was when one of those giant cameras operated by a seated driver got out of control and, like some mechanised dinosaur, bore down on me where I was seated at a table with my scientists either side. The red light was off which showed that the camera was not being used for filming. I resolved that I would carry on concentrating on cameras one and three as if nothing was wrong. Only when the camera actually hit the table would we beat a retreat. When it was within inches of the table, some benefactor pulled out the plug and the camera halted in its tracks! Another memorable instance was when I was conducting an interview during which a pneumatic drill came through the ceiling! We just carried on.

  This Week: King Hussein dispenses Justice

  In 1958 I was asked by This Week to go to Jordan. Apparently there were three known assassination plots against King Hussein, and although it sounded ghoulish, the programme wished to cover any such possible crises. One trouble spot was Irbid, which the King included in his speaking tour. I was positioned on the balcony of the town hall, from which the King was to address the crowds. The King arrived, preceded by the Household Cavalry in their red tunics and astrakhan caps. He received a tumultuous welcome from the men in the street and from the women separated from the men on the roofs opposite. There were two exceptions: two women had positioned themselves by the main door, and I learnt that they were the mothers of two young men who had been caught gunrunning across the Syrian–Jordanian border, and were involved in a plot against the King. They were due to be executed the following morning. The mothers had come to plead for their sons’ lives. The head of Arab Radio, Abu Zeld, told me that the King would be making a dramatic statement.

  In the course of his speech, the King said: ‘At this moment there are two young men who have plotted against the Hashemite dynasty and against the best interests of my people. They will be executed at dawn tomorrow.’ At this the women started wailing, and Hussein then ordered the two men to be brought before him from the central jail. They duly appeared handcuffed. Hussein proceeded to address them: ‘You have been discovered smuggling guns across the border, with the ultimate object of overthrowing the regime. Tomorrow you will be executed. What a waste of human resources. If I spare your lives, will you dedicate yourselves to the service of my people and to the greater glory of Jordan?’

  To put it mildly, they hadn’t got much option, and swiftly agreed. Then Hussein said: ‘Remove their handcuffs. They are free.’ The crowd went wild and started shouting: ‘Long live Hussein, long live Hussein!’ He had shown panache and, as it turned out, had made a shrewd decision. Whatever assassination plans had been made must have been swiftly abandoned.

  This Weak: The Shah of Iran bites on the bullet

  This Week was a constant source of excitement. I would be rung up and asked whether, at a few hours’ notice, I could go out with a camera team to some part of the world currently in the news. One such visit was to Iran in July 1961 to interview the Shah. He started off his reign as a reformer, dissolving the ultra-conservative Majlis (Parliament), and actively distributing title deeds of royal lands to peasants.

  On arrival in Tehran, we were told that the Shah would be flying to Azerbaijan to give out land titles, leaving his private airfield at seven the next morning. He would give us an interview before take-off. I insisted that in view of the earliness and limited time made available to us, it was essential to get all the equipment in place and fully tested the night before.

  The next morning, the Shah drove up on the dot of seven o’clock and said: ‘I gather you want an interview. Do you need to use the cameras?’ Somewhat puzzled, I replied: ‘Yes, Your Majesty. The alternative would be your voice over a still photograph.’ ‘When were the cameras brought down?’ he asked. ‘It was last night, sir’, I replied. The Shah turned to the head of security for a private discussion seemingly arising from our presence. After a few moments, the Shah agreed to give us a filmed interview. Following his departure, I asked the head of security what on earth the discussion had been about. He asked me whether I had noticed a hairline crack by the Shah’s mouth. He went on to tell me that the Shah had been photographed opening a new extension to the university, and amongst the battery of cameras was one containing a revolver, which was fired at him. One bullet went through his mouth and one through his shoulder. The Shah was immediately driven off to the hospital and the incident was hushed up. He was, therefore, not unnaturally somewhat inhibited about facing cameras. Our decision to bring down the cameras the night before was therefore wiser than we thought, since it had given the authorities the opportunity to inspect them for security.

  Chief commentator for the network

  About this time, Paul Adorian of Associated Rediffusion told me that the programme companies were considering creating the position of chief commentator for the network. Would I be interested? If so, he would like to put forward my name. I asked him how this would affect my position as a prospective parliamentary candidate. He replied that, amongst other things, I would be expected to mastermind the presentation of the general election results on television, and therefore I would have to relinquish my candidature. In fact, if I were returned in any subsequent election I would have gained a lot of national publicity; I would therefore be more likely to get elected and to get office. I told him that I did not belong to that sort of party. Then he said: ‘If that means you are a Liberal, surely you won’t ever get elected?’ I told him that I was likely to win North Devon even though it might be the only gain in the whole country, but if I was wrong, I would be tempted to reconsider his offer. In practice the North Devon and Torrington constituencies, next-door neighbours, represented the one Liberal gain and one Liberal loss of the whole 1959 election.

  I was in fact signed up to do the commentary covering the route for Churchill’s funeral, whenever that might occur. At the time he died I had been elected to Parliament and it was not felt right that one MP should take up such a role.

  Chapter Three

  Personalities

  Lloyd George and his family

  My family took holidays fairly regularly at Criccieth where Lloyd George and his wife, Dame Margaret, lived. My parents would stay with the Lloyd Georges at Brynawelon, whilst we children were farmed out to various boarding houses nearby, usually with the Lloyd George grandchildren. We therefore saw a lot of the previous generation, namely Olwen, Megan and Gwilym, all of whom were our honorary aunts and uncle. The friendship between the Thorpe and Lloyd George families has spanned five generations. It originated with the friendship between my mother and Megan who, as young girls, were launched on the London scene. Megan was to become my mother’s bridesmaid, my sister’s godmother and, in a different context, a parliamentary colleague. As an economy measure my grandfather let his London house ‘one season’, so my mother used No. 10 Downing Street as her London base. This could involve responsibilities – one evening Lloyd George came up to see the girls and announced that Mr Albert Thomas, the French Minister of Defence, was coming to breakfast the next morning; the Foreign Office interpreter was ill; that the two girls had had an expensive education and therefore would they please report at eight o’clock the next morning to act as interpreters in the discussions.

  Years later, Megan and my mother went to Downing Street when Harold and Mary Wilson were the incumbents. Photographs of former Prime Ministers had previously been placed on the staircase but Lady Dorothy Macmillan, disliking their positioning, had had them moved to a corridor leading to the reception rooms, where they remained throughout the Macmillan and Douglas-Home periods. Harold and Mary Wilson had tried to get the photographs reinstated on the staircase, but the Ministry of Works would not react. When Megan and my mother reached the staircase, Megan asked why the Prime Ministers were no longer there, and, in particular, why her father’s was behind the green baize door, hidden when it was hooked back. Mary Wilson welcomed this additional pressure and successfully had the Prime Ministers reinstated, where they now
happily remain.

  There was a family tradition of practical jokes involving much fun and laughter, which made the Lloyd George house in Wales such a delight to visit. My first meeting with Lloyd George took place on one such occasion in the summer of 1936 at the time of the Abyssinia crisis. Italy had annexed this country and the Emperor and Empress had fled into exile and were therefore in the news of the moment. My father, an eminent silk, and Gwilym, who subsequently became Home Secretary, decided to dress up as the Emperor and Empress of Abyssinia seeking political asylum. Lloyd George’s arrival from his farm at Churt was awaited. The families lined up and as the youngest person present, I was deputed to hold aloft the flag of Wales. I doubt whether the Emperor would have been pleased with the charade, but Lloyd George thought the joke hilarious. I remember Dame Margaret giving me a prize apple from the crate which Lloyd George had brought from his farm and I thought at the time how much it matched her beautiful rosy complexion.

  On another occasion, when I was not present, my father dressed up in a red wig, red beard and clerical collar and, accompanied by Megan, who was togged out in her nanny’s bonnet and black ‘go-to-chapel dress’, called on Dame Margaret. The purpose of the visit was to invite her to open with prayers a series of children’s services which were to be held on the beach at Criccieth. Surprisingly, she did not recognise either of them and appeared somewhat flustered, apologising for the state of the room, and saying: ‘Papers, papers everywhere. That’s the worst of being married to a politician.’ At this point, Lloyd George, who was hiding behind the screen, exploded with laughter, in which Dame Margaret joined!

  My father and Dame Margaret were great fishermen. Occasionally she would knock on my parents’ bedroom door early in the morning and say ‘Thorpey, shall we go mackerel fishing?’ They were both excellent sailors and impervious to rough seas. On one occasion, claiming the weather was very calm, they persuaded some family members to join them. However, the sea turned out to be much rougher than expected and everyone bar my father and Dame Margaret was beginning to feel very queasy, and exercised iron control not to be seasick! At that moment my father decided to put on a most awful, lurid green sweater. This was too much for the Lloyd George/Thorpe crew and they finally succumbed to an all-round bout of seasickness!

  One Christmas the traditional game of charades was played. The subject matter is now forgotten, but the acting of the scene remains vivid. Sir Thomas Carey Evans, Lloyd George’s son in law and husband of Olwen, and a distinguished surgeon, ‘operated’ on his wife after much grunting and gesticulation triumphantly extracted from her an entire leg of lamb, which he held aloft!

  Two dinner parties

  The Carey Evans had moved into a house called Elsteddfa, a home which years before had belonged to the Carey Evans family. They had planned their first dinner party after moving in. Megan was miffed that she had not been included amongst the guests. My mother and I were staying with Megan, and she decided that we would make our displeasure known. Accordingly, our car was parked down the drive, and the three of us climbed into the house through an open window. We made for the room on the first floor directly above the dining room, where the dinner party was in full swing. On a signal from Megan, we jumped and jumped and jumped on the floor. Downstairs there was pandemonium; the chandelier in the dining room swung backwards and forwards; the floor sagged and the ceiling looked decidedly fragile. Uncle Tom Carey Evans rushed out with his two sons, Robin and Bengy, and dispersed in different directions on the first floor. Megan was hiding in a clothes cupboard and started to giggle. We hid ourselves as best we could, but Megan was discovered and the truth was out. The Carey Evans family was not best pleased, but the Lloyd George family sense of humour prevailed.

  A slightly less dramatic dinner, but nevertheless one I shall not readily forget, was a dinner at Megan’s house, Brynawelon, with my mother and myself. We had been served Jerusalem artichokes in a thick white sauce. My first bite was incredibly bitter, and I spat it out. I felt reminded of Dr Johnson, who spat out a mouthful of hot potatoes and glared at his neighbouring diners, saying: ‘Yes, and any other fool would have swallowed it and ruined his digestion for life!’ The artichokes were abandoned. After dinner we went into the kitchen to investigate. Megan saw a brown paper bag, in which there was one artichoke left. To her horror, she discovered that they were not artichokes, but Amaryllis bulbs, priced £1 each. They had been a recent present to Megan, unbeknownst to the cook! Our leftovers were fed to the chickens, who, I regret to say, all died.

  One of the most fascinating political discussions which I remember involving Lloyd George took place in my mother’s house at Limpsfield. Our guests were Field Marshal Viscount Slim, who had been Commander-in-Chief Burma, Major-General Fuller, who invented the tank, and Megan Lloyd George. Megan and Fuller, both of whom had met Hitler, compared their recollections of him.

  The occasion when Megan met Hitler arose out of Lloyd George’s meeting with Hitler at Berchtesgaden in 1936. Lloyd George had been anxious to make an assessment of Hitler and for his part, Hitler had a great admiration for Lloyd George and had many of his speeches translated into German. At the end of the morning meeting, Lloyd George told Hitler that he had two of his children with him, both of whom were MPs, who very much wanted to meet him. Hitler replied: ‘Of course, let them come up for tea. Will they want music [which would have meant laying on a string quartet] or do they want to talk?’ Not surprisingly they opted for the latter. Megan well remembered the scene. The tea was not to be at the Eagle’s Nest, but at the Lower House. There were three large Mercedes, one of which was for Lloyd George, one for Megan and Gwilym and one for the guards. There was a long flight of stone steps from the house to the approach road and the sun was setting behind the mountain. Hitler started to walk down dressed in khaki uniform; Lloyd George advanced, cape and white hair flowing in the wind. They met halfway. At the end of tea Lloyd George turned to Schmidt, the interpreter, and said: ‘Would you remind the Führer that he has very kindly promised me his photograph’. This was duly passed on and three photographs in silver frames were produced. With an unmistakable twinkle in his eye, Lloyd George said: ‘I have a lot of photographs at Churt and have considerable difficulty in arranging them. Would you object if I were to place your photograph next to those of Clemenceau and Foch?’ Hitler replied, slowly at first, that he would have no objection, since they were both patriots who had fought for their country, but he would never tolerate his photograph’s being placed next to those of any of the German generals, who so basely surrendered in 1918. He then blew up about the future of Germany and ranted on for the next half hour.

  Fuller recollected that he was on the reviewing stand at Nuremberg and watched the tanks go by. Hitler asked him: ‘What do you make of your children? ‘I am not worried about my children’, replied Fuller: ‘What concerns me is the use to which they will be put by their guardians’.

  Megan raised with Slim the question of U Saw of Burma. U Saw was a controversial character, having formed the Myochit Party and Galon Tat, which was a private army, in 1938. He was regarded as having strong sympathies with the Japanese cause. He was Prime Minister from 1940 to 1942 and visited the UK and the USA in 1941, at which point he was thought to be sympathetic to the Western Allies. However, he contacted the Japanese ambassador in Lisbon, indicating another switch of loyalties. He was arrested by the British in Cairo and kept in internment in Uganda from 1942 to 1945. On returning to Burma after the war he reformed the Myochit Party and was wounded by a hireling suspected to be acting on behalf of Uang San, a prominent member of the government. However, in 1947 he travelled to London with Uang San and reached an agreement providing for the independence of Burma. On his return to Burma, he repudiated the agreement.

  Megan asked Slim how he could be certain that U Saw wouldn’t rat again. Slim’s jaw tightened like a vice and he said: ‘I told U Saw that if lie defected again I would hunt him with the entire British army, and with his family present, in a clear
ing in the forest, would hang him upside down. He knew I meant it, as indeed I did.’

  U Saw was heavily involved in the murder of a group of Burmese Cabinet ministers. He was arrested in 1947 and charged with murder, and was hanged in May 1948.

  The last time I saw Lloyd George was in 1944 at Bron-y-de at Churt, where I had tea with him. He was anxious to listen to the German news in English being broadcast from Germany and was obviously still incredibly well informed. I told him I had ambitions to become a Liberal MP, and he said: ‘Always lean on your constituency’ By this he meant that before you took a highly unpopular line, as for example his own stance on behalf of the Boers in the South African War, your constituents should be taken into your confidence and made familiar with the arguments on an issue to which they may initially lie strongly opposed. You should always ensure that your constituents know the reason you support a cause, which may at the time be unpopular. After tea we toured the orchards, with Lloyd George in a flowing cloak and with a shepherd’s crook, looking every inch the Old Testament prophet.

  Lord Hankey had been in both War Cabinets and lived in our village, Limpsfield. On the strength of his experiences, I asked him which of the two was the greater war leader, Lloyd George or Churchill. He replied that only fifty years after their deaths would a balanced objective view be possible. He, himself, had had a row with Churchill and therefore could be said to be prejudiced. They were both Olympian figures, but that in his opinion, Lloyd George would lead by a photo-finish. In support of Hankey’s view, it must be remembered that it was Lloyd George’s inspiration and drive which placed the country on a wartime footing, against the hostility from the Generals, and not without criticism from the House of Commons, as indeed was the case with Churchill. He transformed the output of munitions, created a general headquarters to coordinate the Allies and set up a war machine which had not existed before. It does not detract from Churchill’s superb leadership in the Second World War to point out that he adopted and adapted many of Lloyd George’s blueprints. Some time a book should be written comparing the methods and achievements of both war leaders.