The Foreign Service Journal, November 2012

THE FOREIGN SERVICE JOURNAL | NOVEMBER 2012 61 General Assembly. But since his confirmation was still pending in the Senate, his status was still unofficial. As a result, he was assigned to the periphery of the U.S. delegation in the General Assembly hall for the session. Henry Gets Nixed Kissinger ended up seated next to one of the congressmen in the delegation, the Honorable Robert Nix of Pennsylva- nia. An elderly African-American gentleman and a longtime member of the House, Representative Nix was chairman of the Africa Subcommittee. The United States delegation was seated alphabetically right next to the folks from Upper Volta (now Burkina Faso), 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, Rep. Nix walked out and could not be found later for the delegation photograph or to accept Kissinger’s apology. I had not been invited to the opening session and was in my office when frantic calls began coming in from the State Department. After a long search, I finally found Nix at the fancy Beekman Towers apartment the U.S. mission had rented for him. “Tell ’em to go to hell,” he growled. The much-delayed photo op went on without him. Although he continued to occupy the Beekman apartment from time to time and take the New York per diem, Nix never showed at another U.N. meeting or social function for the entire four months. Social Lubricants to the Rescue The plus side of Nix’s absence was his willingness to let me draw upon his $800 representation allowance. Bradford Morse, a former Massachusetts congressman who then headed the United Nations Development Program, proposed that the U.S. congressional contingent host an event for parliamentarians in the various delegations. John Buchanan, a Republican con- gressman from Alabama who was taking his responsibilities seriously as a delegate, was willing, so we arranged a catered lunch in one of the U.N. headquarters dining rooms. There was just one hitch: alcohol. Buchanan was a Baptist minister and, at least theoretically, a teetotaler. But once I pointed out that a glass of wine was traditional and appropriate for toasts and the like at international gatherings, he agreed to its being served, albeit a bit reluctantly. The response to our invitation was huge. It seemed that virtually every country in the world had at least one parlia- mentarian delegate, at least one delegate who had once been a parliamentarian, or—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 build- ing. “It will take a while to prepare meals for this many people. There will be a short delay until we can serve,” the maitre d’ whispered to me. “Can we serve some cocktails before lunch?” I went to Buchanan with the problem, and he promptly tossed the decision back to me. Faced with managing a thirsty horde of milling delegates, the answer was easy. “Serve ’em up,” I told the maitre d’. The short delay turned into over an hour—a period during which the alcohol flowed like water, with notable effects on our guests. During the meal the Dutch delegate—a stocky gentleman who had lost an arm in World War II—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 a gentleman from Niger, elegantly dressed in an embroidered gown and wearing a tall conical hat, slid out of his seat and disappeared 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. A Classy Establishment Lest it be thought that the United Nations is solely a gather- ing place for party animals, I should note that some serious things were happening there, as well. The 1973 October War broke out in the Middle East during the session, and the U.N. Security Council began to meet at all hours to negotiate a ceasefire. And as if that weren’t enough drama, this occurred When I was momentarily left alone as the sole American representative at a meeting, the mission dispatched a 23-year-old secretary to replace me in the U.S. chair.