Now that we have finished with the Iron Curtain, there may be some small merit in a review of the trouble of a Libyan tour group in Heathrow and finally, a call to personally minister to the needs of a fine group of Overseas operators and executives in Pittsburgh.
We may as well start with London where Colonel Quadafi sent his stalwarts to take in the sights of beautiful women on stage, forbidden at home, and frightful amounts of alcohol, also forbidden in Libya. There is no need for a local Chapter of the Women’s Christian Temperance Union in downtown Tripoli or in Bizerti, either. Keep your minions at home in Evanston, Mrs. Tooze, and work on the misguided souls being lost in Chicago.
 
England
One day, we enplaned for Bahrain. It’s a long trip and not a very rewarding adventure. The plane made a stop at Heathrow, outside London where we were to spend the night leaving early the next morning for the trip to Bahrain. I rarely ever looked forward to visiting an Arab country. They are often grim places. They don’t enjoy the give and take of the Western world that would leaven the mix and make for a little laughter. And, for many of us, we are infidels. I don’t feel all that comfortable in an Arab city except for Cairo. But we did have a little to look forward to in Bahrain.
Saudi Arabia is among the most repressive places around except for the Taliaban in Afghanistan. Women don’t drive cars and they must stay at home. Ah, but on the weekend from Thursday through Friday, there is a stream of traffic over the new causeway bridge from Saudi Arabia to Bahrain. And lots of airplane flights. The attraction is alcohol, with maybe a few floorshows thrown in. There may be a little gambling. In any case, the confining chodor comes off as it hits the end of the bridge and doesn’t go back on until Friday night on the way home.
The bridge was new to us so we thought we’d like to see Arabs at play. Mostly men, they acted like school children out of school. They had their fill of alcohol and western food. And they chased girls.
And so we looked forward to seeing a loosened up Bahrain. It sure wasn’t Paris or Amsterdam. But that is what set our hearts to singing a little bit because we might see an Arab capital Manama, warts and all. It turned out that it wasn’t that good. Ah, but back to Heathrow.
Well after a bit of sleep, we step into the check out line at the hotel cashier. There is all the usual confusion as to whether we had breakfast followed by presentation of drachmas, liras, guilders and so forth. The fact is that it took time which we didn’t have with an airplane to catch.
Last night we were “entertained” by a group of Libyans who had a plenitude of alcohol to drink. It may be banned in Libya, but they made up for it in the United Kingdom. And so the next morning a hung over Libyan tried to sort of crash his way to the front of the line at the cashier’s desk. Most of us thought he had forgotten his manners and the clerk would send him back to the end of the line.
Cal Tuggle, Howard Pappert and I were at the front of the long line leading to the cashier cage. When he spoke, the Libyan’s English was pretty good. The problem was his friend on the Libyan tour plane, had not gotten up. He needed to make a call rather than running up several flights of stairs.
After he annoyed the cashier with his questions, he was told to go to the house phone near where we were standing. He couldn’t get it straight. He couldn’t understand that if he dialed 678, for example, his friend would answer. So we went back and forth with all of us becoming more annoyed at the Libyan. Eventually, the cashier put down his pen and said, “Sir, you go over to that phone and dial 678 and it’s all taken care of.” The Libyan still couldn’t believe that this was the way phones worked in a big hotel. Finally, the cashier said, “Sir, you can dial. You do not need to do more. All you do is when the phone answers, you say “Blah, Blah, Blah.” That’s all there is to it.”
As Cal Tuggle, Howard Pappert and I watched, the Libyan was armed with his new information that he had dragged from the cashier. He went to the phone and dialed 678. When the phone answered, he yelled “Blah, Blah, Blah.”
His companion was in no mood to hear “blah, blah, blah.” I think he hung up on him.
 
U S of A
Now that we have disposed of the Libyan tour group, let’s move on to a presentation to one of our five Overseas groups in Pittsburgh. It was an attempt to show them how they fit into the Overseas scheme of things from the initial advertising to eventual cable layout and settlements of accounts.
While I was out of the country, Dottie Giovi Campbell got some of my major exhibits together. When I came back to the office, I finished my preparation and stood ready to leave the following morning. During that afternoon, Dottie asked, as she always did, what would I need for my use the next day in Pittsburgh.
I told Dottie that she always made good arrangements for me. However, in an afterthought that I threw away, I mentioned that it would be nice to have a watermelon in my room. I was kidding and Dottie knew that. I think she did. But she still told the Traffic Manager in Pittsburgh. Apparently, he thought she was serious or else he decided to find a suitable watermelon. I’m sure that he had his tongue firmly in place, but he was a good guy who would show this apple knocker from New York what Pittsburgh was about.
I forgot to mention that this presentation was being made late in January, a small detail, but very significant for our little story.
I carried a large briefcase to this meeting because I had quite a bit with slides and other materials for use in the meeting. This is the sort of briefcase that lawyers call an exhibit case. It plays a prominent part in the story.
When I checked into the hotel, the Bell Captain cautiously inquired of me if I had any unusual request of the hotel. Then the Bell Captain asked bluntly, whether I always had a watermelon in my room. I almost answered without thinking but then, Dottie Giovi and the local traffic manager came into view. And I told him that “Yes, I always had a watermelon in my room. They more or less made a home for me away from home.” I think maybe he wanted to like me, but that New Yorkers were pretty odd.
Now comes a special call from Bob Christ, who is negotiating a contract in Nova Scotia. The Operator who took the call didn’t get it quite straight. She gave it to the same Bell Captain, who didn’t get it quite right, who brought it to me in the room. He announced that I had better get to this message because it “was from Christ.” It was from Bob Christ – not from any one but old Bob.
I never found out about where that watermelon came from in January but I knew I had to take it home. The watermelon was a round one. I took all the lining out of the large lawyer’s bag, and it fit perfectly. It was ungainly, but it fit and I could button the briefcase covers. When I reached the Pittsburgh airport, my bag was not out of my hands for an instant until a man called out he had a suspicious looking briefcase. Three or four fellows came and demanded that I unload the “Large Object.” I told them it was a watermelon. That only made them angrier. And so I unloaded the famous watermelon. One of the guards who did a little farming agreed that according to his estimate, I really had a watermelon.
I still joke with Dottie Giovi, but I don’t mention watermelons anymore. And let’s hear it for the men who produced that watermelon in the snows of January. Those fellows acted as though they always had watermelon for a guest. I never asked them about it.
E. E. CARR
December, 1997
Essay #3 (Old Format)
~~~
I actually found the first bit of this essay a little harder to follow than usual. I think in the early essays Pop was mainly writing for his own theraputic benefit more than writing for an audience, so he tended to move quite quickly. Not a bad thing, but I do find myself wondering if other essays will shed more light on these traveling companions, the timeframe in which we’re operating, etc.
EDIT: Judy contacted Dottie Giovi herself! Apparently the watermelon incident took place around 1975-6, when she and Pop worked together at the #5 World Trade Center building.