To London
As I flew back to Los Angeles next morning at least a possible solution to the family Christmas dilemma began to take shape. Reaching the Union Bank building in downtown LA by mid-afternoon, I called Harry Volk to make my report.
“Mr. Volk, I’ll do my best to accomplish this --- but I really don’t want to be away from my family over Christmas. Since the bank has an apartment at the Grosvenor House in London, I’d like to use it, if it is available.”
After a call to Lee Swett confirmed the apartment was indeed available through the first week of 1972, I drove home to tell my wife not to buy a tree -- just get out the suitcases and start packing.
“Darling, how would you like to spend Christmas and New Years in London? Owen and Erin will come with us too, of course.” My English wife had lived and worked in London before we met, so I was fairly confident her response would be positive.
“When do we leave? Who is paying for this?” She said, with alacrity and practical British thrift.
“We leave just as soon as you’re ready. The bank will be covering the cost, and we can use Swett & Crawford’s apartment at the Grosvenor House.” Two days later, we boarded a Pan Am flight to London, wearing winter clothing and ready for the chilly December weather ahead.
These events happened over thirty years ago, yet I can still recall as if it were yesterday.
While London has its share of fine hotels, the estimable Grosvenor House on Park Lane still reflected its earlier grand heyday. When Union Bank acquired a group of insurance companies, which included Swett & Crawford, one of the prize assets was an apartment in the Grosvenor House. These units are the height of luxury: a separate entrance from the street, room service around the clock, furnishings and décor which are the acme of quality. Initially downcast about leaving their friends at home at this time, our son and daughter soon laid claim to their own bedrooms (with six- inch-thick goose down comforters) and eagerly began devising their 'sees' and 'dos.' Quite sophisticated for their ages, Owen Trelawny had just-turned eleven and Erin Teleri nine-and-a-half, they had traveled abroad with us before.
Some good friends resided nearby on Mayfair’s Green Street, within walking distance. We spent Christmas Eve there before a candlelight service at the American Church, then after a morning walk in Hyde Park, a memorable Christmas Dinner. I had reached a decision; one that would have a totally unanticipated result.
“Bette dear, I’m leaving tomorrow to try and resolve this thing, and I’d like to take Owen along. He’d appreciate seeing Zurich. You and Erin enjoy a few days together --- see some plays, go shopping, just enjoy yourselves.”