In the Fall of 1973 I moved to New York City for the General Assembly Session of the United Nations (UNGA) as part of the U.S. delegation. As an assistant to two congressional delegates. I had an office in a nearby building, a secretary, and a mandate to keep the House members happy. From the beginning things went badly.
Henry Kissinger had just been named U.S. Secretary of State, having successfully undermined the incumbent, William Rogers, with President Nixon. Kissinger was anxious to be part of the U.S. delegation at the opening ceremonies of the General Assembly. Since his confirmation was still pending in the Senate, his status was still unofficial and as a result he was assigned to the periphery of the U.S. retinue.
Henry ended up seated next to one of the congressmen, the Honorable Robert Nix of Pennsylvania, an elderly African-American gentleman and longtime member of the House of Representatives and chairman of the Subcommittee on Africa. The United States delegation was seated alphabetically right next to the folks from Upper Volta and their sign was not far from Nix’s elbow. Kissinger leaned over to Nix as the Assembly was coming to order and inquired in a friendly fashion: “How are things going in your country?”
Highly insulted and disdaining to explain, Nix walked out and could not be found later for the delegation photograph or to accept Henry’s apology. Although an official member of the delegation, I had not been invited to the opening session and was in my office when the frantic calls came in from the State Department. When I stopped laughing, I began to look for Nix and finally found Nix at the fancy Beekman Towers apartment the US/UN Embassy had rented for him.
“Tell ‘em to go to hell,” he growled. Although he continued to occupy the Beekman and take the New York per diem, Nix never showed at another UN meeting or social function for the entire four months.
The plus side of Nix’s absence was his willingness to let me program his $800 representation allowance. Bradford Morse, a former Massachusetts congressman who now headed the United Nations Development Program, proposed that the U.S. congressional contingent host an event for all the parliamentarians in the various delegations. John Buchanan, the other House member, was willing so we arranged a catered lunch in one of the UN Headquarters dining rooms.
At issue was alcohol. Buchanan was a Baptist minister and at least theoretically a teetotaler. After I pointed out that a glass of wine was appropriate -- for toasts and the like at international gatherings -- he agreed but seemed reluctant.
The response to our invitation was huge. It seemed that virtually every country in the world had 1) one or more parliamentarian delegate, 2) delegates who once had been parliamentarians, or 3) perhaps my imagination -- people who would like to be thought of as parliamentarians and thereby nab a free lunch.
The banquet table seemed to stretch the length of the building. “It will take a while to prepare meals for this many. There will be a short delay until we can serve,” the maitre d' whispered to me. “May we offer some mixed drinks before lunch?”
I went to Buchanan with the problem, and he promptly tossed the decision back to me. “Serve ‘em up,” I told the maitre d'. The short delay turned into over hour -- a period during which the alcohol flowed like water, with notable effects on our guests. During the meal a Dutch delegate -- a stocky gentleman with one arm -- rose majestically and roared,”I propose a toast.” Everyone raised a glass and a long silence ensued. “I drunk,” the Dutchman concluded. “I sit down.”
Shortly after that an African gentleman from Niger, who was elegantly dressed in an embroidered gown and wearing a tall conical hat, slid out of his seat and under the table. As I left, clutching a bill that was more than double the estimate, Brad Morse, our guest of honor, was waltzing enthusiastically with a gray-haired waitress.
Lest it be thought that the United Nations is solely a party animal, serious things were happening there as well. The 1973 October War broke out in the Middle East during the session and the UN Security Council began to meet early and late to obtain a ceasefire. The crisis occurred during a high boiling point in the Sino-Soviet rift.
While these events of some magnitude swirled around me, my role was minimal. Although I was accredited to the United States delegation and bore all necessary credentials, State Department officers apparently were frightened that I might someday be embolden to speak during one of the committee session I regularly attended. On one occasion when I momentarily was left alone as the sole American representative at a meeting, the Embassy dispatched a 23-year-old secretary to replace me in the American chair.
In the final analysis, I found the United Nations -- essential as it is -- too much talk and too little action. By comparison, the UN made the Congress of the United States look like a dynamo of action. When the General Assembly session ended, I returned to Capitol Hill with not a little relief.
No comments:
Post a Comment