Egypt 1954-1955
End of a Kingdom
While serving as an Instructor & Foreign Affairs Advisor at the U.S. Naval War College in Newport, RI, Dad was promoted to admiral rank. By August of 1953 he was assigned to Alexandria, Egypt as American Consul General reporting to Ambassador Jefferson Caffrey, a former colleague. He and Dad had served together in Cuba in the mid-1930s. Cuba at that time had been in revolutionary mode not unlike that of Egypt in the early 1950s. One suspects Ambassador Caffrey may have requested his new consul general for the job at hand.
That summer, my parents, Heather, Tom and our two dogs, departed New York aboard the S.S. Excambion bound for Egypt. My brother, Jock, remained in Florida at a military prep school as I completed my junior year at Severn School.
Egypt had become a heady diplomatic assignment. King Farouk I had been forced to abdicate in the face of Egypt’s 1952 Revolution. His son, King Fuad II, would succeed his father until 1953 when he, too, would be forced out as the last king of the ruling Muhammad Ali dynasty of Egypt and Sudan and Levant.
The nation’s constitutional monarchy was dissolved later in 1953. General Muhammad Naguib became first president of the new republic. A year later, as the British ended its military occupation of the country, General Naguib was forced to resign in favor of Colonel Gamal Abdel Nasser. The young Arab republic was soon to become one of the world’s political hotbeds. It was the beginning of the Arab Cold War.
During this period the Israeli-Egypt Suez crisis erupted and British and French forces sought to regain the Suez Canal. Spotting an opportunity in the Middle East, the Soviets began to provide military armaments to Egypt as the French, the British, and the Israelis directed military pressure on Egypt. The Soviet’s Chairman Khrushchev even threatened nuclear action. To gain their influence in Egypt, a newly-independent Middle Eastern nation, the Soviets agreed to construct Egypt’s massive Aswan Dam on the Nile. Previously, America’s Secretary of State, John Foster Dulles, had declined to finance that project. Suddenly, Egypt had become a new world “hotspot”, an interesting situation given Dad’s previous experience.
It was with this backdrop that I spent the summers of 1954 and 1955 with my family in Egypt.
New Home
Throughout the centuries, Alexandria had long been considered one of the most charming, if not intriguing, cities along the Mediterranean. It was founded by Alexander the Great in the 4thc BC, and it was there Julius Caesar dallied with Cleopatra. She subsequently married Mark Antony.
The Consul General’s official house in Alexandria was imposing. It was a stuccoed, three-story, British colonial style building. Set in a large garden, the house faced onto one of the city’s major thoroughfares. The property was surrounded by tall palm trees and extensive gardens and were enclosed by a high wall topped with glass shards. Egyptian soldiers guarded its gated entrances around the clock.
Inside, a staff of nine to ten male servants attended to the needs of our household and the hundreds of visiting official guests each year. Formal dinners were held regularly.
Some of our household staff in Alexandria. 1954-55. Photo: A. Edgar
Among the staff was a Nubian named Ali, from Egypt’s Lower Sudan. Three distinctive scars on his temples identified his proud heritage. His black skin appeared almost purple.
Dad’s official driver, Abdul, a strapping, no-nonsense stalwart, was said to have served as driver to Field Marshal Viscount Montgomery in 1942 during the Second Battle of El Alamein. In stark contrast to Abdul, our family driver, Hassan, was diminutive and congenial. He was upbeat, helpful, and always sported a smile. A third, on-call driver/bodyguard, Farouk, was attached to the Consulate General office. Like many of our help, the men wore reddish colored fezzes, a throwback to the Ottoman Empire.
Dad’s car in Alexandria, Egypt. Driver/bodyguard Fuad on the left. c.1954. Photo: A. Edgar
Near the end of my junior and Jock’s senior years of high-school, our parents encouraged both of us to join the family in Egypt that summer. Unfortunately, Jock suffered a case of shingles only to be quarantined in total darkness for an extended period. Most of his senior year and eventual graduation had to be deferred. Surprising all of the family, Jock then decided to quit The Bolles School in Florida and enlist in the Air Force. For that reason he was unable to join the family that summer. Even in Jock’s absence, I was thrilled to visit the family if only for a couple of months.
Diplomatic Etiquette
Continually learning to become “young gentlemen” was part of bringing up three boys in a diplomatic family. Heather was in her own training camp. By definition, basic graces included speaking, reading, and writing good English, studying a second language, conversing intelligently with and being comfortable among adults, and knowing how to ballroom dance. Proper manners, along with appropriate dress as to when and how, constituted the bedrock of grace in diplomatic circles. The process of learning and practising etiquette never ended whether at home or abroad.
First Transatlantic Flight
The 1954 transatlantic trip to Egypt was my first commercial flight. The first and the last time I had ever flown was in 1948-49 on a Navy DC-3 from Shanghai to Taipei.
Lockheed Constellation (image source)
The sleek, Lockheed airliner I ticketed was a grand, four engine, Trans World Airline Constellation (“Connie”). It was among the fastest, most advanced, propeller-driven commercial airplanes introduced following World War II. The plane was exquisitely appointed, comfortable, and rich in amenities. I recall only one class of seatings, perhaps 70 in total, arranged two seats on either side of a wide center aisle. TWA provided a high level of service. Cocktails, champagne and elegant meals were cooked on and served from meal carts that shuttled back and forth among the passengers. Movies were not yet being shown on flights. It was wonderful when stopping at through-airports such as Dublin, Paris, Rome, Athens. With only a passport in hand, a through-passenger could disembark, enter any airport lounge and return to the plane as desired. At that time, commercial flying was a wondrous adventure. It would be the first of my three trips to and from the land of the Pyramids.
I was met at the airport in Cairo by the family driver and we then set off on a long drive across the blistering desert to Alexandria.
Domestic Spies
Upon arriving at my parents’ home, I was greeted by my mother who then introduced me to our staff. The staff, all professionals, appeared committed to the family. All understood their responsibilities and expectations. Other than the drivers and the occasional low-profile bodyguards, the eight or so house staff were managed and overseen by Mom. From the start, one could only like these people. However, Dad was quick to remind me that in every diplomatic household one must expect some servants will be informants serving outside interested parties. While the servants were employed by the U.S. Government, they also might be on the payroll of another country -- or even of the host country itself. Dad made it abundantly clear that none of the staff was to be trusted with any private or confidential information.
Sleuths and “Bugs”
From time to time and unannounced, on any given Saturday, Dad would rise from the breakfast table inviting one of us children to accompany him to surreptitiously poke about our house from top to bottom. His purpose was to locate hidden listening devices that might have been installed throughout the house. The most obvious location was the dining room, an area where a lot of conversation took place as our house hosted numerous political/diplomatic dinner/cocktail functions. Another rich location was the master bedroom. New-found devices were never removed by any of us. But, Dad was interested in identifying their locations, types, and, if at all possible, the identification of the perpetrators. It was not particularly difficult to find some of these devices.
The “game” of gathering diplomatic information worked both ways. At one point, I was invited to join Dad and Mom in their bedroom. For whatever reasons, most Asian and Arab male servants were uneasy entering “boudoirs.” Master bedrooms were seen as sanctuaries. Recognizing this early in his career, each evening on returning home, Dad would place his briefcases in the master bedroom out of sight.
Once while in Alexandria, he showed me his favorite, zippered, leather folio placed inconspicuously in the bedroom. I admired its leathery smell, well-worn and stained case. I saw nothing unusual about the briefcase until Dad pointed to the zipper. Just behind its pull was a single filament of cotton thread. It encircled the zipper. Its color matched the leather. If the briefcase were violated, the filament would be severed. Over the years, he found this simple detection technique remarkably telling.
College Discussions
During my two summers in Egypt, the topic of college choices was always at the front and center of family discussion. My chances of obtaining a political appointment to the Naval Academy were not promising. By 1954, Dad had become aware of my new and growing interest in the petroleum industry.
Egyptian American Oil Company
Clever man that he was, Dad arranged an introduction for me with members of the Egyptian American Oil Company (EGAMOCO). The company was in the process of exploring for oil deposits in the Western (Libyan) Desert just north of the Great Sand Sea. Shortly after my arrival in Alexandria, Dad and I packed up and flew out to EGAMOCO’s Siwa Oasis exploratory site in the company’s DC-6. There we spent several days with the company’s geophysical team. Siwa Oasis lay well inland from the Mediterranean Sea, several hundred miles from Alexandria, and just 30 miles from the Libyan border. In the end, our time spent together in the field proved invaluable to me. While Dad continued to espouse the advantages of Ivy League colleges, my new-found intrigue with the petroleum industry only grew.
Siwa Oasis
Located 400 miles west of Cairo and deep in the Great Sand Sea, Siwa Oasis’ history can be traced back to the Paleolithic Period. Its people are Berbers. Names such as the Greek historian Herodotus (5thC) and Cleopatra personally visited this remote spot. Today the distinctive hair-style worn by Siwa women is not unlike that of Cleopatra more than 2,200 years ago. Many of the women display exquisitely-crafted, multi-strand, ornate silver necklaces considered to be their dowries.
1955. Two girls in Siwa wearing their ornate silver necklaces. Photo: A. Edgar
The oasis had ten or more deep, cistern-like, spring-fed, circular wells, each 40 feet or so in diameter. These fresh water pools appeared pristine. Date palms grew around them in vast numbers.
Siwa oasis as seen from our helicopter. 1955. Photo: A. Edgar
Over the centuries, the ancient town of Siwa has been referred to as mud-city. As one would expect, rainfall is infrequent. However, when rain does occur, say every fifty years or so, the deluges typically destroy much of the town. Following those rare events, much of Siwa has to be rebuilt with mud on top of the previous town.
The village was perched on a massive mound of hard-packed, reddish mud. The statuesque-like minarets, also constructed of mud, stood starkly against the clear evening sky. Prayer calls could be heard for miles in the clear air. It was surprising for us to learn that in this ancient, isolated Islamic community, male homosexuality was socially condoned. Historically, and up through the early 1950’s, few tourists had visited this remote site.
Work hours at the exploration camp began at first light. Night temperatures were cool in contrast to the 120+/- degrees of mid-day. Work ceased for several hours at mid-day only to restart later in the afternoon. During the hottest part of the day workers enjoyed time-off to read, watch movies, sleep, eat and drink, all within air-conditioned Quonset huts scattered about the camp. Television was not yet available.
Helicopter Flying
Each day the head geologist would review with Dad and me where and why we would spend the day. We were flown on the company’s vintage, post-Korean War, Bell helicopter to visit the desert areas being surveyed. We were well aware that the design of this particular ‘copter had an iffy reputation. Each time before boarding, Dad and I would look over at one another with raised eyebrows as we settled into the rickety contraption.
Dad walking from our helicopter atop mesa with caves. 1955. Photo: A. Edgar
Cave Dwellers
On one occasion, we flew west close to the Libyan border. Earlier, a mapping crew had come across a small group of indigenous natives living in caves high on the side of a mesa some distance from our camp. Out of interest, we opted to visit the top of that mesa by helicopter. Having landed and disembarked, we were able to peer over the edge while remaining near the running helicopter. We were able to see a number of natives milling about some one hundred feet below. From a distance they appeared to be from a different time in history. They were dark-skinned, had long black hair, and were scantily clothed in what looked like animal skins. Our pilot did not want to overstay our visit. He knew that if spotted, the cave-dwellers would scamper up the side of the mesa towards us. For safety and political reasons, contact with them was to be avoided. And in fact, as we got back into the helicopter and departed I noticed that several natives were already coming over the lip of the mesa.
World War II Remnants
World War II had ended only ten years earlier. Given the extremely dry desert conditions, military equipment and ordnances had not deteriorated much in the intervening years. Shortly before our arrival, one of the exploratory teams quite by chance came across a Nazi motorcycle with sidecar and machine gun. The motorcycle was brought back to the camp. Over time mechanics were able to replace its tires and a few other vital components. They even bragged that they were now able to drive the motorcycle around camp. Indeed, the motorcycle looked pretty good.
In the early 1940’s, Field Marshal Rommel’s Afrika Korps and its Panzer Divisions placed thousands of antitank and personnel mines throughout the desert in anticipation of the Allied forces during and after the battles of El Alamein. Rommel’s forces lost, yet many of their mines remained buried and active.
Minesweeping
Each time an oil survey team flew into the desert by helicopter, minesweeping became an integral part of the trip. Anytime a helicopter was to land outside the previously designated safety zones, the area first had to be swept, a very dangerous undertaking. As the aircraft hovered a few feet over the intended landing area, a strapped-in team member dangled outside the ‘copter towards the desert floor with a handheld minesweeping device. The object was to clear the area of ordnances before landing. Once landed, the crew member would then sweep the entire work area. Though infrequent, active mines were found on occasion.
Years later, I learned that even after EGAMOCO’s extensive geophysical exploration in the Siwa area, no commercial oil prospects had been discovered.
The Siwa Oasis excursion only strengthened my interest in petroleum engineering.
Remarkable Discovery
Some time before my arrival in Egypt that first summer, an exploratory archaeological dig on the south side of the Great Pyramid had revealed an extraordinary find deep in the Giza bedrock. The Great Pyramid was built for Khufu (King Cheops) in the 26thC BC. Only recently, however, archaeologists had located what was believed to be the world’s oldest ship still intact. Inside the buried sarcophagus was a full-sized, 140-foot vessel dating back to the 26thC BC It was in remarkable condition. I recall the ship was dubbed “moon boat,” only to be re-designated later as “a pharaonic solar ship.” Its purpose had been to convey Cheops’ body into the afterlife. Over the years, the ship would be disassembled and ultimately displayed in a museum built at the base of the Great Pyramid.
By the time of my arrival in Alexandria, Dad had been invited by Egypt’s new government to a ceremonial opening at the base of the Great Pyramid. After the requisite speeches, several guests, including Dad, were given the opportunity to experience the 5,000 year old fragrances still evident in the newly-discovered sarcophagus. It was said that during finds such as these, archaeologists are careful to preserve any fragrances associated with the discovery. On that day, however, the sarcophagus was purposely breached only for a short time. Dad’s assessment of the released fragrance was of “sweetness.” Later, a more scientific study would define the fragrance as Lebanon cedarwood (Cedars of Lebanon), a type of timber often used in ancient ship construction. Though I was invited to the site much later that summer, I was unable to identify any of the rare fragrances Dad had experienced.
Anti-Americanism
Since its founding, America and much of what it represents, has been attacked in many different ways by foreign adversaries. Specific to my childhood recollections include several dangerous and frightening confrontations aimed at one or more of our family. Such events occurred most often while our family was posted in various diplomatic hotspots around the world.
Dangerous Times
In the mid-1950s, Egypt’s internal political state was reaching the boiling point. Serious international pressures were beginning to impact the young Republic. Building the Aswan Dam, negotiations between the Soviet Union and the United States would become an Egyptian stone around the neck of the United States.
President Naguib and Prime Minister Gamal Abdel Nasser were vying for the presidency of Egypt. In late 1954, shortly after I had left Egypt that first summer, an assassination attempt was made against Nasser in Alexandria, his own hometown. By mid-1956, he managed to usurp Egypt’s presidency. A Socialist, he proclaimed Egypt a Muslim country and proceeded to abolish all civil liberties which led to mass arrests throughout the country. Nasser then crushed Egypt’s Islamist Muslim Brotherhood. By 1956, his government was confronted by the Suez Crisis which led to the second Israeli-Arab War.
In the end, confronted by pressure from the U.S., Soviets, and the United Nations, the governments of Great Britain, France, and Israel were forced to withdraw from their attack on the Canal. At one point the Soviet’s Chairman Khrushchev even threatened nuclear action. On the other hand, President Eisenhower’s foreign policy remained in place to align the U. S. with Egypt’s Arab nationalist movement at almost any cost. Eventually, historians would interpret the Suez Crisis a debacle as having contributed significantly to Great Britain’s decline as a world power. As a direct result of the Crisis, Prime Minister Anthony Eden resigned in 1957 -- and Nasser became the Arab world’s new hero.
Attack On America
It was during this period, an attack on the U. S. Consulate General offices in Alexandria took place during my first summer, 1954.
During both summers in Egypt, I saw that as my parents moved about Alexandria, whether on foot or by car, their modus operandi changed. It included avoiding scheduled appointments, regular personal habits, and the family’s travel patterns in Alexandria. For example, when getting into his car, Dad always instructed his driver to take different routes to and from various destinations. Any time someone in our family was to be driven to the beach, different roads would be taken. It was comforting that our driver also served as a bodyguard. Over six feet tall, Abdul’s formidable girth and years of experience gave the family considerable comfort.
Often Dad would come home from his office for lunch. Purposefully, he would arrive late and, conversely, return late to his office. One day he finished lunch and in the usual manner returned late to his office. That day, he decided to stop along the way. By the time he arrived at the consulate, he found Egyptian military/police officers swarming in front of the building. In accordance with international law, the Consulate General building was considered American property, thus prohibiting local officials from entering the consulate without proper authority.
Dad’s office had been firebombed by a timing device. Somehow, the office had been breached and a bomb planted nearby. While the office had not been totally destroyed, his desk and everything around it had been incinerated. Fortunately, his secretary, Magda, was only slightly hurt.
The patterns of not adhering to fixed schedules fortuitously delayed Dad’s return to the office that day. Returning home that evening, the worse for wear and shakened, he still remained immaculately dressed. At times of crisis such as occurred that day, my father would take Mom out of the house for a long walk. Being away from the house by themselves provided maximum privacy. During those rare interludes life could be shared and the pressures of their diplomatic teamwork alleviated. Mom was stalwart. Rarely did I ever see her lose her cool. Despite many unanswered questions, the horrendous event of that afternoon was never discussed in the family.
Looking back now, I believe this event may have been part of the July 14th bombings in a failed Israeli covert operation that has since been termed the “Lavon Affair.”
Diplomatic Pecking Order
As a youngster attending official events with my parents, I was amused by the diplomatic pecking order among various national functions. For instance, seniority was predicated on the importance of a diplomat’s time-in-grade within the nation in question. Typically, the seating at official dinners was arranged according to the seniority (time and grade). In some cases, posturing was based on the amount of financial assistance extended to, or favors being sought by, the host country. In Egypt, this pecking order always played an important role. Where a diplomat stood or was seated, vis a vis his/her hosts, one could always discern important, if not interesting, implications.
Just A Warm-up
By 1953 a newly established Republic of Egypt had brought its Colonial Era to an end. In the summer of 1954 after my arrival in Egypt, our family was invited to a revolutionary government’s celebration in Alexandria. Alexandria’s diplomatic corp was in attendance along with numerous political dignitaries. Several military bands provided an evening of music followed by politically-laced speeches. The evening was to celebrate Alexandria’s first official visit by the new Republic’s first president, General Mohamed Naguib. Inside the stadium a large contingent of armed soldiers made their presence known.
Dad, Mom, Heather, Tom, and I were driven to the stadium in our official car. In keeping with such occasions, both the American and the consul general’s flags were displayed at the front and on either side of the car. Once recognized, our car was guided through closely-guarded gates and into a large stadium. Honored guests were seated in several rows on the playing field in front of the grandstand. Our assigned seats were near the very back of the group. It became apparent that President Naguib had intended to snub the West, specifically the United States.
Not far beyond our assigned seats were a good number of unfilled rows of chairs. With some concern, Dad noticed that the public assigned to stadium seats was relocating onto the playing field and into the reserved section not far from the diplomatic section.
That evening I noticed President General Naguib and his wife seated in the front row of the reserved section. Seated immediately to their right was the most honored guest, the consul general of a non-western nation. I was told by Dad that the key seating criteria for this particular event favored diplomatic longevity.
However, it was never determined whether Egypt’s president had inadvertently snubbed Egypt’s newest, and soon-to-be, most important western ally -- namely, America. Clearly, America’s new consul general had been relegated to the back benches. It was later determined that the new president simply did not have a sufficient grasp of his new Republic’s political situation vis-a-vis the more influential nations of interest.
By that time few in Egypt had little idea of the potentially explosive developments, both national and international, facing their new Republic. Egypt’s independence had created a geopolitical vacuum. The consequences would become earthshaking. Little did one know that in October of 1954 an assassination attempt would be made on Nasser’s life as he visited Alexandria.
However, that first summer night, much of the stadium was filled with fired-up, revolution-minded citizens of Alexandria. Stadium lights were turned on as the sun began to set. Various national anthems were played as the military and its guests saluted and many civilians respectfully placed their hands over their hearts. Collectively, the audience joined in singing the various anthems. The crowd had barely settled down as the music struck up a rousing overture. Almost immediately, a number of thuds could be heard in the area where the diplomatic corp was seated. Suddenly it became apparent that our group, seated not far from President Naguib, was being pelted with stones thrown from the stadium. As we tried to dodge the hail of rocks, we could see over our shoulders that a small group carrying projectiles were climbing down from the stadium towards the diplomatic seating area on the playing field. We were instructed to pull chairs over our heads and fell to our knees in defense. Some projectiles found their targets. Before departing for a brief moment, Dad instructed us to remain in place. In time, a number of soldiers appeared out of nowhere to position themselves between the growing, hostile crowd and the defenseless guests. The soldiers threatened the crowd by pointing their rifles towards the gathering crowd. This provided sufficient time for the guests to return to their cars parked across the playing field.
That evening, the army was successful in holding at bay the angry demonstrators without further confrontation. As for the President’s well-being, it was safe to assume he and his family had already fled the scene well in advance of his guests and the potentially explosive situation.
Once we were in the car, our driver expertly navigated the family through the entanglement of vehicles trying to exit the stadium gate at the same time. One could only wonder what might have transpired had the demonstrators been able to commandeer and secure the stadium gates in advance of their attack.
Later an official investigation of the incident concluded the attack had actually been carried out from within the government itself thereby embarrassing Naguib’s administration in front of the world. Happily, there appears to have been no intention of harming any members of the Diplomatic Corps.
As a sympathizer of the outlawed Muslim Brotherhood, President Naguib was blamed, in part, for Egypt’s growing problems. He was removed from office before the end of the year. Not long after, President Naguib’s successor, General Gamal Abdel Nasser, would also suffer national pressure with the imminent Suez Crisis.
House Staff
We children were never informed of Dad’s involvement with U.S. intelligence. In the early 1950s, in all likelihood American offices in Egypt, including our home, had become increasingly porous. By that time, Egypt’s interests had shifted away from Britain, France and Israel in favor of the United States and the Soviet Union. Understandably, Egypt needed to know more about its new allies.
In Egypt, with or without Dad being present, breakfast, lunch and dinner were served in the dining room. Mom selected all menus while Dad oversaw the wine cellar including the liquor requirements. All of our food was purchased in the local marketplace by our cook who, with his assistant, prepared most of the meals. Given the importance of his trade, the cook received the highest salary among all the servants. He was called on to prepare three meals a day and, on any day, prepare for a number of guests.
Once the food was prepared and presented, Muhammad, our “number- one-houseboy,” assisted by “number-two-houseboy,” Ali, a Nubian, brought the food from the kitchen, serving it attractively to each seated person. While Muhammad was not the highest paid staff member, he oversaw the entire house staff.
The two houseboys were sights to behold. Wearing red fezzes, their standard attire consisted of long sparkling white kaftans with wide red sashes wrapped about their waists. Formal attire included long, sashed, colored robes with gold piping. Fezes were replaced with gold-flecked turbans. Waiting between courses, “number-one” would stand to the side and a few steps back from my father who was seated at the head of the table. “Number-two” stood back and to the side of my mother. In every way, with the exception of dress, all meals at our house were served formally.
Dangerous Desserts
One evening after the five of us had finished the main course, Muhammad announced the dessert to my mother -- several choices of ice cream, unfortunately made from powdered milk. As choices were made, each dessert in China bowls was delivered individually from the kitchen. Everyone began to savor their particular flavors.
Suddenly, my sister, Heather, let out a loud yelp and began to cry hysterically. Her immediate reaction was spitting out a mouthful of her ice cream. Something clinked into her bowl. There, in the midst of the melting ice cream, something sinister sparkled. I looked at her and saw a trickle of blood coming from her mouth. At first, I thought she had bitten her tongue or cheek. Mom came forward to help. Quickly, it became apparent that at least a shard of glass had been mixed in with her dessert. My eleven year old brother, Tom, his mouth wide opened and face frozen in fear, burst into tears. Then, using his spoon gingerly, he moved some of the uneaten ice cream around in his bowl. He, too, found small chunks of glass in his bowl. All five of us were taken aback and rendered speechless for a moment. Dad then rose from the table and headed for the kitchen where he inquired of the cook. Soon, the two returned to the dining room. All three servants appeared incredulous. One had tears in his eyes. Questions were posed to each of the three servants by Dad. No fingers were pointed or accusations leveled. By whom, why and for what purpose was this act? Intimidation? And, directed at whom? Perhaps at Dad? There would have been horrible consequences had any one of us actually swallowed the glass. That evening, there were no concrete answers.
The requisite official reports were filed with the Embassy. Then, in a few days Dad made his decision. He concluded that had this event been initiated purposely, surely the glass would have been ground more finely, making it easier to swallow and more effective. In the end, he concluded the glass incident probably had occurred in the kitchen quite by accident. As the cook is directly responsible for the food he buys, prepares and serves to his employer, Dad made the only decision he could. The cook was dismissed.
Desert Getaway
Often on summer weekends, our family would leave Alexandria to escape the city’s heat. Air conditioning had not yet been introduced into Egypt. Therefore, Dad had located a cooler, desert getaway some 35 miles west of Alexandria, not far from the edge of the Great Sand Sea. Traveling there by car one had to drive on a rough, poorly maintained and little used tarmac road originally built to connect Alexandria with Libya’s eastern border. That summer day in 1954 as we drove to the family’s getaway, there were no buildings to speak of, few people, and little greenery or few trees along the entire way.
All of the area west of Alexandria reminded me of a no-man’s-land. The road paralleled long stretches of gorgeous, vacant Mediterranean beaches. A light northerly breeze off the sea was always welcomed. To the south and well off the road, we came across several fully-armed members of Egypt’s renowned mounted Camel Corp. patrolling across the desert on their regal, white camels.
Finally, we turned south on a more challenging side road luring us into an endless, barren desert. A number of miles ahead and some distance off the road, the town of Borg el Arab came into view. As we approached the stand-alone, fort-like, enclosure, we could see it had thick walls running 150 yards a side. For the benefit of the family, Dad recounted its brief history going back to the turn of the 19thC, during the Ottoman Period.
Denizen of the Desert
Near the end of the 1800s, a young, British military administrator, Wilfred Edgar Jennings-Bramly, a Scot, was hired as the private secretary to Ottoman Empire’s Tewfik Pasha, Khedive, ruler of Egypt and Sudan.
By the 1890s, the “remarkable” Bramly (referred to by some as a genius) had already founded and designed the then renown Cairo Zoo located in the palace gardens of Egypt’s Khedive Isma’il at Giza.
In time, the commanding officer W.E. Jennings-Bramly, MC was appointed Governor of the Western Desert Province of Egypt. Close to World War I, Bramly constructed “with great taste” the Western Desert Province’s “capital” town of Borg el Arab. The governor’s intent was to provide work for the women of the troublesome Senussi Bedouins who, for centuries had been disruptive in the vast desert area on both sides of the Egyptian-Libyan border. Though these nomads continued living in the desert, the new town was intended to provide them with a place for weaving carpets, trading, having access to a court, a mosque and a library. The Bedouins came to look upon Bramly Bey as their protector and friend, referring to him as “Father of the Sands.”
On the heels of World War I, the Ottoman Empire came to an end in 1922. Great Britain abolished its Protectorate over Egypt deposing its ruling Khedive in favor of an independent Kingdom of Egypt. Egypt’s growing nationalism proved disastrous for the nomadic Bedouins who eventually abandoned Borg el Arab.
Borg el-Arab
Approaching the desert town, we could see its damaged walls and buildings, including the mosque itself. By 1954, many of the limestone structures had fallen into disrepair, not from the ravages of World War II, but through years of neglect. Entering through the arched main gate, I recall images of a French Foreign Legion fort I had seen in the movies. In the center of the huge courtyard was a stone fountain that at one time had spouted cool water drawn from its oasis. That day, after more than 30 years of abandonment, the pool had become an empty, dusty ornament. None of the four, or so, original administrative apartments were occupied. There was no evidence of life seen anywhere nearby. Lizards scampered about here and there. Accidentally one might come across poisonous but small vipers slithering in and out of the walls, mostly at night. Vipers were rather prevalent across the desert landscape. Of greater concern to us, however, were the poisonous, two-inch scorpions that seemed to appear almost everywhere, even in our apartment. They scuttled about unafraid, unfortunately finding comfort in beds, within clothing, and in standing shoes.
Dad had arranged a lease on one of the few apartments. As the only livable space within the fortress, it had electricity sufficient for limited illumination, a ceiling fan or two, and a hot plate. Potable water and, of course, air-conditioning simply was not available. When traveling beyond metropolitan areas in the Near East, one always had to provide for his or her own drinking water for several days.
Our apartment in a corner of Borg el-Arab. c.1954. Photo: A. Edgar
On the roof of our apartment we enjoyed cool evenings looking out over the silent, endless desert to the southwest. Once the searing sun had set, we played games and chatted, savoring cool drinks before enjoying a light dinner prepared by Mom, an excellent chef in her own right. There was no staff at Borg el Arab.
In the summer, daytime temperatures of over 100 degrees were commonplace. In the cool evenings, the sky became crystal clear allowing for the identification of myriad constellations across the pitch black heavens. Our quaint getaway in many ways was charming, reasonably comfortable, and secure. For short periods, this remote spot provided the family a secluded resting place. We could be together, near “treasure trove” areas where, in the desert, one could find ancient brass coins and pottery fragments. At the same time, the Mediterranean Sea to the north with its empty beaches and cooler temperatures, all were within easy reach.
Tank Graveyard
Some distance to the northwest of our Borg el Arab retreat was El Alamein, an historic battleground where, only twelve years earlier, two key World War II North African campaigns had taken place. More than 1,500 tanks and 300,000 men had been engaged. In the end, the Allies triumphed over the Nazi and Italian forces despite the admittedly brilliant role played by the legendary German tank commander, “The Desert Fox,” Field Marshal Rommel.
Hundreds of destroyed tanks lay strewn across the desert. No buildings, trees or greenery could be seen anywhere as we wandered among the hundreds of tank carcasses. For a young man who loved military history, I was enthralled. Anyone was at liberty to walk at will among, climb on top of, and even enter the various types of vehicles. During my two summers in Egypt, unimpeded I was able to gather a number of war-related mementos at El Alamein. Thirty caliber tank machine-gun and cannon projectiles were everywhere. It was a lonely, silent, and eerie spot located in the middle of nowhere. On my visits during those summers, I never came across anyone else in the vast tank cemetery, the very location the Allies gained their first major success during World War II against the Axis.
Me sitting atop one of the many WWII tanks at El Alamein. 1954 or 1955. Photo: A. Edgar
Ancient Findings
My parents had an insatiable interest in all things Egyptian. Our family’s frequent explorations focused on the several, pre-Christian, Ptolemaic settlements once scattered along the western Mediterranean coast between Alexandria and the Libyan border. These settlements dated well before the time of Christ. In discussions with locals and wandering bedouins, Mom and Dad managed to locate small sites not far from our desert compound. With water and a picnic in hand, wearing broad-brimmed hats and long-sleeved shirts, and using sieves and sharp tools, we would spend a full day beneath a searing sun, digging at promising locations. All of us enjoyed visiting these areas in search of history. Long, hard work, stooped over or on bended knees, produced bronze coins of varying size and clarity and shards of all shapes and color. Occasionally, one of us would come across mosaic remnants. Once home, with reference books and using a vinegar-based solution, we soaked and buffed our newly-found treasures. The best results occurred when polishing the larger, green-encrusted, bronze coins. With elbow grease we were able to clean up numerous ancient coins. In some cases our efforts revealed remarkable details. I recall finding a number of coins featuring Alexander the Great’s magnificent profile. Days of long, hard work in the desert almost always produced something exciting. Many of the items were shared among all of us before taking the better pieces home to be researched.
Bramley Bey At Home
On one of our desert weekends in 1954 while at Borg el Arab, Dad suggested the five of us drive a short distance into the desert to meet his remarkable, elderly friend, Wilfred Edgar Jennings-Bramly, MBE, MC. While in the Middle East, Sir Bramly was referred to as “Bramly Bey.” We children were cued to use “Sir” or, if preferred, “Major.” In the case of his wife, Phyllis, she was to be referred to as “Lady Bramly.”
It was said that Bramly Bey understood and knew more about Egypt than most. Years earlier, various Arab rulers had conferred on him the title of “bey,” or “lord,” as an appellation of respect given his many accomplishments, services and reputation throughout the Middle East.
Later, Sir Jennings-Bramly had built for himself a grand, two story, Moorish-style home not far from Borg el Arab. As we approached his home by car, the castle-like limestone structure with its surrounding walls seemed to appear out of nowhere. In the desert there was no habitation to be seen. Driving through the opened gates and into the spacious courtyard, there stood Sir Bramly, erect and ready to greet us at his front door. He was shorter and older than I had expected. Wearing a safari jacket and a bright silk foulard, his piercing eyes, tousled white hair, bushy eyebrows, and moustache presented the look of the extraordinary character he was. In his early eighties, Bramly had a twinkle in his eye as he greeted Mom and Dad warmly while welcoming all of us to the home he referred to as “Windsor Castle.” I was quite taken by this gentleman.
Sir Bramly had spent most of his life in the Middle East dating back to the late 1800s. I sensed he and Dad knew one another quite well . As we were escorted to the living room for tea, I was struck by the Greek, Roman, and Egyptian antiquities found throughout the house. We were informed that most of the items had been discovered by him in northern Africa. Located throughout the house were Ptolemaic marble columns and capitals, small and large bronze and marble figurines, amphorae as well as contemporary objects such as tribal spears and shields. Many of the objects were far from perfect. All were fascinating. Most of the ancient artifacts lying on, or just beneath, the desert floor for thousands of years, had been subjected to varying damage before being discovered.
Alone, I walked through adjacent rooms as my parents and their hosts chatted in the living room. While poking around I came across a number of large fossils beautifully presented on shelves while many of the floors were strewn with magnificent oriental rugs.
We children were told that Sir Bramly had been knighted by the King of England for military gallantry in World War I. Though I met him only once, until then he was the most interesting, captivating man to whom I had ever been introduced. Before departing, he leaned forward as if to share a secret with me, “Tony, I understand you have visited the El Alamein battlefield not far from here.” Acknowledging I had on a couple of occasions, Sir Bramly went on, “And, did you also know that during the North African Campaign (World War II), Field Marshal Rommel personally visited me in this house and permitted Lady Bramly and me to remain here throughout the Campaign?” Our host was a marvelous conversationalist, even with youngsters.
Unique Gift
Years later I happened to be chatting with my father in his study in Washington. I spotted a number of fascinating artifacts scattered about the floor and in his bookcases, objects collected by him since the early 1930s. Some were associated with unusual people, special events, or had come from exotic places. An item caught my eye. It was a charming, marble, Ptolemaic corinthian capital, only a foot square perched in the corner of the study. Inquiring about its source, Dad shared a Bramly Bey story with me.
Many years previously, Bramly Bey had found that particular capital somewhere in northern Africa. Just before we left Egypt, he and his wife gifted the marble to Mom and Dad. It was a touching, meaningful reminder of a unique friendship.
Note: During the time of the Bramly Bey gift, Egyptian antiquities were permitted to be exchanged as personal gifts between individuals. They also could be owned and allowed to be taken out of the country. Since then, Egyptian laws regarding antiquities have been tightened substantially. The special Corinthian capital now graces Bea’s and my home.
In the late 1950s, the Republic of Egypt’s government opted to purge the country of “all colonial remnants,” including the British. After more than 60 years of committing himself to Egypt, the Jennings-Bramly family was compelled by the new government to leave their own desert home and the country they so loved. Together they relocated to Florence where Lady Bramly’s family (de Cosson) lived. So the Borg el Arab story came to an end, abruptly and on a sad note.
It was during that same conversation with my father that I realized some of our family’s treasures were no longer in our house. Were they missing? Why? Dad related an event that took place some years earlier. He told me that every time our family traveled to a different diplomatic post, or returned home, we had to transport our personal things by ship. On one occasion, as our family was returning from overseas, the freighter carrying our belongings simply disappeared at sea in a storm. All of our belongings were lost at sea -- toys, games, furniture, and some of our family’s special treasures. Only memories remain.
Summer Sports
After World War II, Egyptian athletes had become recognized world-wide as top-flight long distance swimmers and tennis players. Athletics played an important role in Egypt, and athletic clubs and sporting teams were concentrated in Alexandria and Cairo.
When I first arrived in Egypt, Dad provided me with a temporary membership to the Alexandria Sporting Club allowing me to continue with my tennis game. Unfortunately, my last competitive tennis year had been at St. George's School in Newport several years earlier.
In Egypt, my coach had been that country’s top tennis player prior to the war. He was an elegant professional probably in his fifties, an astute coach and an unrelenting taskmaster. He, as did most tennis players in the 1950s, always dressed in whites, including long trousers. Colored tennis clothing had not yet been introduced to the tennis world.
Through the American Embassy in Cairo, our family had access to Cairo’s Gezira Sporting Club located on Gezira Island in the middle of the Nile River. There, too, I was always able to find a competitive tennis game. Afterwards, in the evening a few of us, usually Americans, would head off for dinner at the popular Mena House in Giza not far from the pyramids.
Alexandria’s famous “Corniche” east of the city was lined with numerous, scalloped beaches, many of which provided terraced, private bath houses facing the Mediterranean. On occasion, our family would enjoy lunch at a beautifully situated bath house. The only drawback to swimming too far from the shore were frequent, strong, rip tides that would claim several unsuspecting swimmers each year.
End of the Summer of ‘54
Most if not all TWA flights between Europe and the United States landed in Gander, Newfoundland to take on necessary fuel before proceeding to New York City. In 1954, on my first return flight from Egypt via Paris, one of the Constellation’s engines caught fire at night while flying through a rough storm over the Atlantic. Promptly the damaged propeller was feathered and the engine shut down allowing the three operating engines to carry on. Our pilot, in a calm voice, was remarkable while maintaining decorum among the distraught passengers. Arriving safely in Gander in the early morning, all of us were transferred to a new plane.
Jock and the Summer of ‘55
It was the summer of 1955 that Jock asked if he could visit the family in Alexandria for a couple of weeks. He had just completed his Air Force basic advanced training. I do not recall much of his visit. It may have been that Mom and Dad were introducing him to Egypt’s many treasures. It seemed that before he and I had managed to really reconnect, he returned to his new assignment in Maine with the U.S. Strategic Air Command (SAC) under General Curtis E. LeMay. Jock would serve three tours in Vietnam as a radio operator aboard refueling tankers.
Concealed Radio
It was while in Alexandria during the summer of 1955, that I first stumbled on an event suggesting that my father may have been functioning as more than just a U.S. diplomat in Egypt.
The attic of our Alexandria house served as the family’s storage for excess furniture, clothing, toys, doll houses, empty suitcases and the like. The attic was maintained meticulously. Everything was covered with white bed sheets as protection against both light and dust. Rarely anyone seemed to visit the attic. Its door was always kept secure.
One day I decided to visit the attic in search of several stored possessions. It was my first time in the attic. I was surprised to find its door unlocked. Opening the door quietly, I mounted the stairwell on tiptoe. At the top I stopped to gain my bearings in the dark. Somehow I sensed what seemed to be low voices coming from somewhere. Listening carefully while cocking my head, first left and then right, I attempted to locate the muffled sounds coming from across the attic floor. After a few moments of scanning the large room, I suddenly saw a head pop up in a far corner. It was a great surprise to me to find my father in the attic and, even more so, to see him with earphones. He signaled me to remain where I was as his head again disappeared below a sheet for a brief moment. Judging from the unusual chatter, it seemed Dad was conversing with someone far from the house. I was somewhat familiar with such sounds as I, too, had often operated my own personal shortwave Halliburton radio.
Several minutes had passed when Dad finally rose and approached me with a stern look as he passed me at the head of the stairs. As he walked by, his only statement was, “I ask that you don’t ever recall seeing me up here.” Not until the late 1970s did I discuss that unusual encounter with anyone. It was well after Dad’s death when Tom shared a similar event with me. Likewise, back in the early 1950s, he too had come across Dad transmitting from a radio in the attic.
Ancient Luxor
During my second visit to Egypt in 1955, my parents arranged a special trip for me to the temples of Luxor 300 miles up the Nile River from Cairo. There, on the east bank of the river, lies Egypt’s ancient city of Thebes dating from 2,000 B.C. Thebes was also known as the city of Amon, the universal god of all gods.
After spending a few weeks with the family in Alexandria, it was time for me to visit Luxor before the dog days of August set in. Dad had assigned a pleasant, unobtrusive guide to accompany me on the trip. He also had guided my parents, Heather and Tom to Luxor earlier that year. At that time, and serving also as embassy liaison, Dad was charged with overseeing the film, Valley of the Kings, starring Robert Taylor and Eleanor Parker.
Leaving for Luxor, I was told that my guide also was to serve as a body-guard. That was appropriate, given Egypt’s political turmoil. My guide decided that the safest method of travel south, up the Nile was by rail from Cairo.
On arriving there, I stayed at an old British hotel not far from the grand Luxor Temple complex constructed more than 3,300 years ago. While visiting, I dressed in khakis, white ducks or searsucker trousers, long-sleeved cotton or polo shirts and comfortable walking shoes or white bucks. At dinner I would dress in a white linen suit, a buttoned-down shirt, a colorful, but not garish, necktie, and polished black leather shoes. By the mid-1950s, not many tourists had visited Luxor.
My guide settled into a local hotel. For six days, he and I rose early each day in order to beat the midday heat. We walked everywhere using cabs and ferries only as needed. Everyday we returned to the hotel for lunch followed by my request of a “quiet hour” before heading out again for late afternoon explorations.
On leaving Alexandria for Cairo on the way to Luxor, Mom suggested I visit a particular, musty but reputable shop in Luxor. Keenly interested in things Egyptian, Dad had once purchased from its owner a number of tomb related items: bronzes of Osiris, Isis, and their son, Horus, with the head of a falcon, god of the sky. Typically, Dad’s sources were found to be impeccably honest. With a purchase in mind, I kept my fingers crossed as I entered the tiny shop.
My first acquisition was a handsome, bronze Egyptian tomb statuette of Ptah, a figure from the late Ptolemaic Period (c. 600-100 BCE). This god was believed to be the creator of the universe and patron of craftsmen. He is identified by his skull cap and false beard. To this day, he remains one of my favorite treasures.
Before leaving Egypt late in their assignment, my parents purchased an exquisite, ancient figurine from their favorite “musty shop.” A few years later, that item was gifted to the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston.
My hotel was not far away from the two great cult temples: Luxor and Karnak. The Temple of Luxor is thought to have been where many of Egypt’s pharaohs were crowned. Nearby were numerous, colossal statues of Ramesses II. Parts of the huge temple were added to by various pharaohs such as Tutankhamun and Amenhotep III.
Abutting the Temple of Luxor is the great Temple of Karnak, a huge complex of temples and chapels with its several splendid obelisks. During Egypt’s 18th followed by the 19th dynasties, it served as the primary area of worship focussing on Amon-Re, the Egyptian deity revered as the king of the gods. Had I not visited these vast temples of Nubian Sandstone, I never would have believed the enormity of these vast complexes.
On the Nile’s west bank are the ancient Egyptian mortuary temples: pharaohs in the Valley of the Kings and pharaohs’ wives in the Valley of the Queens. The most recognized tombs are those of Tutankhamun: Howard Carter’s world-famous “King Tut” discovered in 1922 and Hatshepsut’s, an important 1400 B.C. female pharaoh’s stunningly beautiful mortuary temple. To date, more than 60 tombs and chambers, mostly royal, have been excavated on the west bank. My exploration of both banks of the Nile barely scratched the surface of Egypt’s spectacular “New Kingdom” findings.
After many years, the fascinating experience of my Luxor excursion still remains with me. Once back in Cairo, I extended a grateful thanks and bid farewell to my wonderful guide who served me so well and faithfully. Dad had arranged a car and driver to meet me at the Cairo train station. The long, hot, trip to Alexandria covered more than 200 kilometers across a torrid desert. As there was no air conditioning in cars at that time, the trip was grueling.
Half way between the two cities, most responsible drivers would stop and refill their car radiators. A number of them who opted not to, failed to reach their destinations due to seized engines. Many could be seen standing alongside their stalled car awaiting tow trucks.
Occasionally, forceful desert sandstorms enveloped much of the fragile highway. Traveling vehicles could be quickly covered by a sandstorm, many were stripped bare of their paint and their windows pitted by the fierce, wind-driven sand.
Museum of Cairo
Wherever our family lived, our parents assiduously exposed us children to new places, things, and ideas. Ancient Egypt was near the top of that list. What better place to start than at the fabulous Museum of Cairo, now known as The Museum of Egyptian Antiquities. The collection was stored in a massive, red stone, early 20thC. building in Tahrir Square.
I had graduated from Severn School in the spring of 1955, and joined my family in Egypt for the summer months. While visiting friends in Cairo that summer, Mom recommended that a few friends and I visit Egypt’s huge museum. The Museum of Cairo’s collection had a world reputation.
Arriving at the museum one morning, we were surprised to find that all of its doors were open. Only a mess of fencing and barbed wire strewn around the building presented any form of entry. A few disinterested, armed soldiers lolled about outside smoking. Working our way through the wire, we discovered that no admission tickets were required.
Inside there were no guards. We saw no one in the museum that afternoon. Sandy dust covered the floors and most of the exhibitions. Also, as lighting was nonexistent, the museum’s collection depended on indirect lighting from outside. Even in the mid-1950s in the midst of the new republic’s revolution, we were stunned to find a museum of its reputation in such shambles. This could have been attributed to the recent shift of power from British to Egyptian rule.
Once inside, we found ancient Egyptian antiquities stuffed into every nook and cranny -- busts, mummies, statues, and sarcophagi everywhere; many made of pure gold. As we wandered through the museum, we saw likenesses of ancient kings like Tutankhamun and Akhenaten along with a number of chariots made of solid gold. Many of the artifacts had been recovered from the Valley of the Kings far up the Nile near Luxor. There was nothing to prevent a visitor from touching, climbing on, or even stealing objects from the museum. Fascinated, yet without really thinking, I was lured up on one of the large pedestals in the center of the museum’s floor. Resting on it was a large, gold chariot. I was intrigued by the touch of solid gold and its intricate detail.
Though the museum lay in abyssmal condition, its contents were eye-popping. Many of the museum’s more than 100,000 items dated back 3,500 years. Yet many of its Pharaonic items still appeared brand new.
Without question, the Museum of Cairo of the mid-1950s, while dysfunctional and lying in total disarray, stands out in my mind today as the most stunning collection I have ever visited.
Abu Qir
My parents knew that I was a budding, passionate fisherman. One summer they received an invitation to go deep sea fishing out of Abu Qir. The remote fishing town is located on the west side of the Nile Delta, not far from Alexandria. It sits at the west end of a huge bay open to the Mediterranean Sea.
In the 1950s, deep sea fishing off the Nile Delta typically called for carrying semi-automatic weapons as a deterrent against sharks. I can only guess that neither of my parents, particularly Dad, was keen on being in the presence of such weapons. They asked their host whether I might join the fishing group in place of themselves.
A few days later, and well before daybreak, I was driven to Abu Qir. While I no longer recall the names of my hosts, I did not forget their remarkably well-equipped deep sea fishing vessel. On board was a captain, a first mate, and two assistants. Once at sea and having been offered a beer, at the appropriate time, we guests were invited to be belted into swivel seats and handed baited rods. Out of sight of land we prepared to troll the Mediteranean’s choppy seas.
Not long after my line was dropped over the stern, I experienced a good strike. I had hooked a good-sized Bonito, a delicious eating fish. As I was reeling it in, suddenly gunfire erupted high up and behind me. There was commotion among the crew. Shouting, my guide pointed to the Bonito acting erratically some thirty feet off the stern. Trailing behind we saw two sharks looking for an easy meal. A crewman in the rigging was firing at the sharks with an army carbine. It proved effective. And so, throughout the morning and afternoon, almost every catch had to be protected in this fashion. The fishing was superb that day although the odor of gunpowder lay everywhere.
Like so many places in Egypt, Abu Qir Bay had its own fascinating history. On a later occasion, several acquaintances of the family told us of diving in Abu Qir Bay to collect 18thC cannonballs. In 1798, just west of the Rosetta Mouth of the Nile, the Battle of the Nile took place between Admiral Lord Nelson’s fleet and a French expeditionary force. Having recently departed Egypt, Napoleon left behind a military force to secure Egypt for France. It was not to happen.
Much of Abu Qir Bay is relatively shallow -- not much more than 30 feet. In the 1950s one could see evidence where the great battle actually took place. Even today, thousands of cannonballs from that battle can be seen strewn across the seafloor. Back then, those historic momentos were readily accessible to anyone interested in history -- that is to those who could dive down 30 feet.
Khufu Celebration
In early 1955, America’s distinguished career ambassador to Egypt, Jefferson Caffrey, retired and was replaced by Henry Byrode. It was his first ambassadorship. The assignment would last 18 months.
That summer, Ambassador Byrode took full advantage of his recent arrival to host the embassy’s annual Fourth of July celebration. It was not the typical, run-of-the-mill, often staid, diplomatic affair. That year’s celebration took place on the Giza Plateau at the outskirts of Cairo, just west of the Nile. The black-tie dinner entertained over 100 high-profile guests and their spouses including top government officials, ministers, religious leaders, and most of Cairo’s foreign ambassadors.
The unique affair took place out-of-doors at the base of the Great Pyramid of Giza, the oldest of the Seven Wonders of the World. Years later, I found that rarely had such functions been held near the Pyramid of Khufu. And, in the 1950s, during troubled times in Egypt, there were serious security concerns.
In anticipation of this affair, our family stayed with friends in Cairo. I was the only young adult invited to the gala. Even my new Cairo girlfriend, Deedee, could not attend.
The night of the festivities was spectacular. The moon and the stars were brilliant, hanging high in the jet black sky. To the east, the faint reflections of Cairo’s city lights glittered as an evening breeze blew in from the desert. Looking west and south into the vast desert one could barely hear the low murmur of the guests’ conversations and the clinking of glasses. To the north within a stone’s throw, loomed the massive Khufu Pyramid built around 2,500 BC. The eerily silent, fascinating, desert diminished the importance of the evening’s gathering.
The seated dinner included tables of four and six configured in a large semi-circle facing an orchestra and dance floor. Immediately beyond lay the Khufu Pyramid. Serving stations were located well outside the circle and beyond the din of the guests. The entire affair rested directly on the desert floor. The staff was elegantly dressed, floating here and there in their long white kaftans, colorful turbans, and gold sashes. All were experts at their jobs. Everyone in high-dress appeared enlightened, honored to have been included at America’s Fourth of July event.
As the guests approached the Giza Plateau by car from Cairo, armed Egyptian army personnel appeared out of nowhere. Security control, while never in sight of the gala itself, seemed impenetrable. Every guest approaching the parking area could be identified by the flags mounted on the front of their cars, one flag representing the country, the other the office.
The evening began perfectly. Before dinner, a professional belly dancer performed before the sophisticated audience. Throughout the Middle East belly dancing is viewed both as an art form and entertainment. That evening, the dancer’s sensuous movements were graceful as her finger cymbals twirled and rang in the air. She undulated from table to table smiling at each person while keeping up with the music’s increasing tempo.
It was early into the party when I saw my father get up suddenly from the table and leave. As a senior American officer, Dad was always concerned with unruly disruptions. This time he was focusing on a commotion across the dance floor. With dispatch, and yet without attracting attention, he crossed the floor towards a table at which a high-profile government official was seated. The officer was under the weather and had pulled the belly dancer onto his lap. Arms flailed about. Clearly, the dancer was in distress. The lure of her dancing together with his drinking had been too much for the patron. The orchestra continued playing. With the exception of one or two embassy photographers on the scene, only a few guests in the large audience seemed to notice the embarrassing incident. Approaching the inebriated official’s table, Dad leaned towards a nearby bodyguard and whispered in his ear. Several men in black suits moved in to remove the dancer before hoisting the unsteady official to his feet. Unnoticed, the small group was quietly whisked away.
The few nearby society photographers who had been taking compromising photos had their films confiscated. Unnoticed, the dance troupe departed quietly as the orchestra played on. Without missing a beat, the gala carried on as though nothing untoward had taken place. Most importantly, neither an Egyptian nor an American guest had been compromised. The next day the gala received positive press reviews, providing a boost to Egypt’s/America’s delicate collaboration.
Unfortunately, the following year President Nasser’s socialistic nationalism led to the expulsion from Egypt of large numbers of its citizens/residents, (British, French, Jewish, Copts). The Suez Canal was nationalized only to be followed by the second Israeli-Arab War. Quite by surprise, the American/Egyptian political pendulum of accommodation suddenly reversed itself.
It was about this time that thousands of foreigners in Egypt, mostly Americans, had to be evacuated. Dad’s number two man, Nicholas Lakas, at the Consulate General was assigned the task of leading 36 citizens across the desert to the Libyan border.
End of Tour
As the end of summer 1955 approached, Mom left Egypt with Heather and Tom for their respective preparatory schools, Westover and Lawrenceville. Earlier I had left Alexandria for my freshman year at Colorado School of Mines.
Having completed a two-year assignment, Mom and Dad departed Egypt for New York in November, 1955, boarding the S.S. Independence out of Genoa. In early 1956, Dad would be assigned as Supervisory Consul General of the American Embassy in Rio de Janeiro, reporting to Ambassador Ellis O. Briggs, one of the Foreign Service’s top-ranking career diplomats.
Narrated video of Egypt 1954-55 (Part 1)
Narrated video of Egypt 1954-55 (Part 2)
