New York
I read in the New York Times that one of the four persons who apparently operated the escort service that undid Eliot Spitzer, the ex-governor of the state of New York, was one Cecil Suwal, 23, ‘a graduate of an élite New Jersey prep school’. Bad news travels fast and I was informed of the fact that Cecil — a girl, incidentally — and I had attended the same élite institution, Blair Academy, from more than one old friend. Mind you, we were 45 years apart, and when I went to Blair the place was not co-ed. I have the fondest memories of Blair. It took me in after I had been thrown out of Lawrenceville school for being recalcitrant, and I ended up captain of sports and won some other honours, which seemed very important at the time.
Blair was and is the country’s greatest wrestling school. We have not lost a contest in something like 25 years, despite the fact we compete above our league, mostly against universities or other élite wrestling academies. One day that I clearly remember is 5 March 1953, the day Stalin croaked. We were wrestling against a military school, and my opponent at 141 pounds turned out to be not only an albino, but also blind. I quickly took him down and began trying to pin him. He was not strong and seemed to be confused. So I let up a bit. Prep-school wrestling matches are comprised of three periods of two minutes. In the first period both wrestlers start from the standing position; then one starts on top, and in the final one he starts from the bottom. Actually, it is the same format as Olympic wrestling, just lasting a shorter time. After the first period, my coach, Mr Dallings, called time out and in no uncertain terms told me that if I didn’t pin my opponent I was off the team. Eventually I did, but to this day I regret it. Holding down a helpless opponent who can’t even see you was not my idea of a victory. I should have let him pin me instead — it would have given the poor kid some confidence — but I was very young, eager to be a star in school, and kids are cruel anyway.
I am writing this on Monday, and tomorrow, Tuesday, 8 April, I am going back to Blair to address the student body. My speech is mostly about the evils of the press, but knowing me I will have to bring up Ms Cecil Suwal. And Max Mosley. The latter’s problems gave me as much grief as Spitzer’s downfall gave me pleasure. I have never met Mosley but knew his late brother, a gentleman of the old school. And although I no longer indulge in the world’s oldest profession — why pay when it’s mostly free, up to a point, that is — the two cases are totally different.
Spitzer led a much-publicised campaign against prostitution and then got caught in the most egregious hypocritical manner possible. Mosley did nothing of the sort. Whatever he did was private, and I don’t for a moment believe what that rag wrote about a Nazi connection to the orgy. It is typical of scumbag journalism. Invent a Nazi connection and presto. Had Mosley spoken to a Russian hooker in Russian, would that have made him a communist? As far as I know, German is still a language we are permitted to speak, even to prostitutes.
This mess is good for my speech. Here’s a man who will most likely lose his job because of a big lie by the pimp-reporters who set him up. And, of course, this was either a set-up or a payback. The worst was the reaction of the so-called Crown Prince of Bahrain, Salman Bin Hamad Al-Khalifa. He asked Mosley to stay away from last Sunday’s Grand Prix. I am writing to the prince in turn, asking him to stay away from Europe. This is what it has come down to. Despots of the Gulf and Arabia giving us lessons in manners. The next thing will be Spitzer advising us not to indulge. The other outrage are the various Jewish organisations crying foul about Mosley and the Holocaust. Just because a rag writes it doesn’t necessarily make it true. I feel very bad for Max, whose mother was a great beauty and who was sent to prison unfairly, as she and her husband Sir Oswald were as likely to betray Britain as I am to take out Saudi citizenship and become a suicide bomber.
This is the bad news. Even worse news is the fact that, although a rag can ruin one’s life and reputation through a lie, when the truth needs to be told intrepid reporters take the easy way out. As in hate speech, or whatever law the EU has rammed down our throats in order to stifle free speech.
This morning my friend Paul Belien, a brave writer from Belgium, came to see me and we discussed how even in America the First Amendment ain’t what it used to be. If a writer were to make the ultimate satirical remark about Islam’s increasing presence in America, and say something like, ‘And soon they’ll be having the call to prayer in Harvard Square…’ the remark would hardly be satirical. They are now broadcasting prayers by a muezzin in Harvard Yard and three of the largest gyms on campus have given in to Muslim demands to segregate the sexes and have ‘women only’ at special hours. Workout clothes, it seems, violate the prescription that both sexes wear modest dress in shared environments. Allahu Akhbar!
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