Waves of Protest greet peace deal
The treaty ending 30 years of war between Egypt and Israel was signed by President Sadat and Mr Begin on the White House lawn yesterday against a background of Arab anger with Egypt, and warnings that even tougher negotiations lie ahead on the Palestinians issue.
As waves of protests swept the Arab world, a leading moderate, King Hussein, joined the hard-line Presidents of Syria and Iraq in calling a summit conference of opponents of the treaty and the Palestinian leader Yasser Arafat threatened that President Sadat would be “eliminated” as a traitor.
The Washington signing ceremony was described by Mr Sadat and Mr Begin as an “historic turning point,” and Mr Sadat paid particular tribute to the role of President Carter, hailing him as “the man that performed the miracle.”
Haggling over the timetable for Israel’s evacuation of the Sinai oilfields and the coastal town of El Arish went on almost to the last minute, and it was apparent that Egypt and Israel still have serious differences over the extent to which Arabs in the Gaza Strip and on the West Bank will have self rule.
The Queen, for once, just the mother worrying if everything was perfect
The national state of emergency was briefly shelved yesterday was the Queen, and some 50 million others, watched her only daughter being wed. It was coincidence of course, but the stunning sights and sounds, and the tangible happiness, in Westminster Abbey smacked of the British genius of sounding a flourish when times look black or, at any rate, dim. It was above all else, a happy wedding. It was, you might say, a damned close run thing, but whatever passing, political trivialities were going on outside, they failed to seep into the Abbey.
The happiness kept breaking out all over. Princess and and Capt Mark Phillips were away on a cloud of their own making. They could hardly stop talking to each other once the Archbishop had tied the knot and the final prayers had been said. It was the primates 69th birthday. It was Prince Charles 25th birthday. There were moments, waiting for the bride, when he looked thoughtfully at the rose damask faldstools (freshly vacuumed by Mrs Gwen Henderson, of Clapham) in the knowledge that he, the future King, would probably be the next and only member of his family to kneel there this century.
But his sense of fun Bubbling over any shared it with the Queen Mother. She in turn, leaned over Prince Philip’s empty chair to try and bring a smile to the face of a daughter, the Queen. And the Queen tried to smile. Heavens, how she tried, but here was a moderate noted, among other things, for her composure and her private sense of humour, visibly running short of both. Of course it was not just another family wedding will stop but the Queen, for once in a life, was just another mother, worried to know that it would go without a hitch.
Her almost legendary calm went out of the nearest high window. Unlike most people in the Abbey, she did not have a TV monitor screen to watch her daughter’s smooth passage to the Abbey, Prince Philip’s reassuring pat on the arm at the West door, Anne’s look of determination.
She craned forward, impatient for the first sites other daughter. Unlike 500 million TV viewers, she couldn’t see the Princess glide serenely up the nave, her train no more than a wisp of mist on the blue river of carpet. It was not until Princess Anne and her father came into view through the arch of the choir screen that Queens saw that all was well. And she permitted herself an almost audible sigh of relief. She sighed again, a huge, happy side, when the couple had said most firmly, “I will.” She sang all the hymns without, incidentally, having to read the words.
For a time, she was every bit wedding day mother, alternately apprehensive and happy. The cloak of monarchy returned only when the National Anthem began.
It was a rare moment, almost the entire Royal family, including the husband at her right-hand sang in God save the Queen. Herself apart, the only other person in the Abbey not singing was the Queen Mother who stood, her eyes closed, looking quite blissful.
It was, in many strange ways, a unique wedding. No other bride, on her wedding eve, has had four Alsatians sniffing through the church for explosives.
While Capt Phillips was asleep in the Cavalry Club, with a new ceremonial sword presented by the makers of my razor blades, six special Branch officers were cat napping in camp beds in the transepts. While doubtless trusting in the protection of the Almighty, they made doubly certain by closing the major part of the Abbey Church for nine days during which it was search vaulted roof to crypt. They were discreetly present yesterday, made an anonymous buyer Moss Bros for the trifling sum of £6-£20 a head. They were the only ones who moved when, at 12:15 PM a door banged.
Nothing else marred the flawless royal tapestry which was woven with threads of scarlet and gold, white plumes, and glittering mitres.
Chief among the reigning guests was Prince Rainier of Monaco, with Princess Grace all in white, looking as serene and beautiful as she did when she rained on the screen. Ex-King Constantine of Greece and his Queen sat among Hanovarian princes, princesses, moregraves, and moregravines who are distant cousins of the Royal family.
Mr Peter Phillips and his wife Anne led their family group to the north side of the sacrarium. Alongside them, facing the Royal family, were Capt Phillips sister, Sarah, his aunt Flavia, and his grandmother, Mrs Evelyn Tiarks. First take her seat on the bright side was 90-year-old Princess Alice, one of Queen Victoria’s two surviving grandchildren. Then came the Kents, the Ogilvy’s, the Gloucester’s.
Princess Margaret and Lord Snowdon sat with their son, Viscount Linley, very much on his best behaviour between them. Almost unnoticed, Capt Phillips and his best man Capt Eric Grounds, entered through a cloistered door from the deanery, where they had changed into their regimental number 1 uniforms. They chatted together until the flourish of trumpets announced the arrival of the bride will stop the Queen caught the grooms eye, and gave him the closest thing to a Royal wink.
Then came their bride, and all the pomp and the colour paled against the dignity and a transparent happiness will stop in about K of lilies was tapped a sprig of White Heather in Scotland, the place where she would most like to live.
Yesterday was her day and she led all the way, with beauty and grace.
As the Dean of Westminster, Dr Eric Abbott, says “the special character of any wedding service is given to it by the bride and bridegroom themselves.” And that became obvious from the moment Prince Philip will his daughter to the groom’s side. A shy man, he gave a shy smile as the last words of the hymn ‘Glorious Things Of Thee Are Spoken’ died away.
Prince Philip put his daughter’s right-hand into that of Mark Phillips. Ting Grounds slipped the wedding ring from the little finger of his right hand, the homeless safe place and are no pockets in his dress uniform. As with the Queen’s ring, it was made from a nugget of Welsh gold, mined at Dolgellau. As it lay on the prayer book, Princess following the Archbishop plighted her troth.
In the hushed Abbey, she spoke firmly “I, and Elizabeth Alice Louise, take the, Mark Anthony Peter to my wedded husband.” And with the final words “and thereto I give thee my troth,” she turned and looked her husband full in the face. The Archbishop pronounced them man and wife.
After the national anthem, the bride and groom went to sign the register, or, rather, four registers. One, the royal marriage register, which is kept by the Lord Chamberlain’s office, two Abbey registers, and the Abbey’s own distinguished visitors book. Then, all tension gone, the Queen looked down at Prince Edward, the page, and Lady Sarah Armstrong Jones, who had been left at the altar steps and looked a bit uncertain about the next move. She gave a little sideways nod to tell them to follow the newlyweds.
Then, as is the way with all weddings, the couple wed look so young and vulnerable a few minutes earlier, he merged to face their families, the sea of faces, the whole world with the happiness they could scarcely contain.
President Nixon faced 75 Republican congressmen over breakfast yesterday to try and convince his own party that he is genuine in his desire to clear up the Watergate scandal. The meeting was the second of a series of three planned to rally a doubting Congress. By Friday he hopes to have talked to all the 234 Republican members.
During breakfast in the White House state dining room, the republican congressman questioned President Nixon about his handling of the scandal. The atmosphere was informal and the congressmen did not wrap up the questions they threw. But just at the time when Mr Nixon is trying to gain credibility, his own right hand man Chief of Staff, General Alexander Haig, has become involved in contradictory statements over the missing tapes.
American intelligence sources claim the Soviet Union is perfecting a new naval missile that can hit war ships more than 400 miles away. The Russians recently resumed testing their longest range ship fired missile in far northern waters after a seven month lapse.
Analysts estimate the new missile identified as the SSNX-13 will probably be ready for Soviet naval vessels in about a year. That would increase the threat to an American fleet already vulnerable to missile attack.
A senior US Navy research official has told congress that our most critical threat is presented by the anti- ship missile. The Soviet navy already has at least 5 types of anti-ship missile, but none of them are as far ranging or as sophisticated as the new version which can change direction to follow target ships if they try to escape.
Princess and and a husband today fly off for a West Indies in the sunshine honeymoon after spending their first night of marriage together above a stable
After their wedding pageantry that Keep a 30 million British TV viewers and a well TV audience of 550 million, the couple last evening said goodbye to their parents and drove off together. But it was only an 8 mile chauffeur driven journey that took them to the home of Princess Alexandra and husband Mr Angus Ogilvy at Thatched Lodge House at Richmond Park after they had said be our guests.
The bedroom above and overlooking the stable block of the 17th-century white painted house in Royal Parkland, with flowers waiting to greet the bride, had been prepared. They are, they shared their first moments of privacy after a day of Royal ceremonial, solemn moments at Westminster Abbey, and then the toast and good wishes at the wedding breakfast at Buckingham Palace.
Princess and, radiant in a white, regal wedding gown, and Capt Mark Phillips, handsome in his Dragoon Guards dress uniform, have captured the hearts of the viewers and procession route crowds.
Today, with all the worries and tensions of the public wedding behind them, they drive for 30 min to Heathrow airport, London, to travel first class on British Airways flight 695 to Barbados and the waiting yacht Britannia.
The multi-millionaire who said it with £250,000 went to the High Court yesterday to ask for his love gifts back from London society beauty Mrs Patricia Wolfson
They were bought, said 53 year old Ralph Stolkin, American oil tycoon worth £100 Million during an eight month jet-set romance around the world’s capitals with 32-year-old Mrs Wolfson, former wife of a nephew of Sir Isaac Wolfson.
The presents, Mr Stolkin declared, were conditional on their being married.
“I told her I enjoyed giving her these things” said Mr Stolkin “and as long as we were going to be married everything I had was hers anyway”
But he told the judge, Mrs Wolfson broke off the engagement. Now he is seekin the return of gifts worth £250,000, including the Knightsbridge flat.
£4m Art haul found at Euston
A Man and a woman were charged in London last night with dis-honestly handling four stolen paintings.
Gian Carlo Molo, a 28-year -old barman,and Miss Franca Bakaeva, a 24-year-old interpreter,both of Cliff Court,Cliff Road,Camden Town, will appear at Bow Street court today.
Earlier yesterday four art masterpieces said to be worth an estimated £4 million were found in the left luggage office at Euston Station.
A Transport Police spokesman at Euston said last night “The paintings were wrapped up in a carpet.
“They were left in the left luggage office on Wednesday. They had to be left there because they were far to big to go in any of the lockers”
Chief Detective Inspector Stanley Pitaway. Who is in charge of the Interpol office of Scotland Yard, is in touch with the police in Rome in an effort to identify the paintings.
After the paintings were found three art squad detectives went to an address in Camden Town.
The art squad has been responsible for the recovery of many paintings – including two belonging to the Queen -in recent weeks following the discovery of many paintings stolen from the home counties in a Belgian art shop.
Magazine caused him “mental pain”
by Philip Finn
Retired singer Frank Sinatra is seeking £2 million damages from a New York weekly over an allegation that he had secretly remarried and was soon to be a father again.
The action was brought today in Manhattan Federal Court.
Sinatra’s lawyers claimed also that he suffered “great mental pain and disturbance”
Over another article in the weekly “Midnight” which alleged that he had cancer.
The court was told that the headline in Midnight dated November 1st – already on sale on the news stands -says “Sinatra married -he’ll be a daddy in March”
The first article in the complaint was alleged to have been published on May 10 bearing a headline saying “Frank Sinatra has cancer”
Sinatra charges that the article “Falsely stated” that he had been forced to retire because he suffered from cancer of the throat and within a year would be forced to be confined to a hospital to await death.
The defendants named in the case have 20 days in which to file a reply.
John Vidar, editor of Midnight said today : “Of course we shall defend the action, and I don’t think we have anything to fear”
Sinatra, who is 56, retired earlier this year.
Mr Geoffrey Jackson British ambassador to Uruguay, is on his way home.
Safely delivered from eight months incarceration by terrorists.
His ordeal and the sufferings of his family during the months following his kidnapping are impossible to imagine.
What is known is that Mr Jackson and his wife bore the terrible uncertainty of their enforced separation with a faith, dignity, and fortitude that few of us are ever called upon to display.
The British people rejoice in his safe return home.
“My Lovely World”
Portrait of a man back from the living dead, a happy man on his way home.
Geoffrey Jackson, British Ambassador to Uruguay, was “suspended in time and space for eight months” as captive of Tupamaros guerrillas.
“Suspended” was the description of his wife Evelyn, waiting in Sussex for him to fly in today.
Our man in Montevideo was set free at a church, and he stayed to say a thanksgiving prayer before going to hospital for a check-up.
He is not bitter about his ordeal. He tells local reporters in his fluent Spanish, that he is leaving, as his wife left, “still in love with your country in spite of everything.” And adds “You will see the Jacksons here again.”
But the lost months must leave their scars. For Mr Jackson time stopped still on January 8th and did not start again for 245 days and nights.
In solitary in a people’s prison he had scarily a clue of what was going on outside windowless walls. But in those eight suspended months Uruguay itself was in constant crisis, and the rest of the world duly made it’s history in a scatter of headlines: Moonflight, Ashes, Ulster, Decimals, All Blacks, Rolls Royce and Ulster again.
Geoffrey Jackson dozing in a jetliner on the way home last night had a lot of catching up to do.
Foreign secretary Sir Alec Douglas-Hume will probably head the reception committee at Gatwick. Mrs Jackson will of course be there and their banker son Anthony, “thrilled and delighted.” And the ambassadors twin brothers, Seymour and Frank, doubly pleased.
Geoffrey Jackson phoned his wife as soon as he was freed. Mrs Jackson confessed she did the talking and that he could hardly get a word in edgeways. She thanked the press for being “marvellous” and in Montevideo he repeated that.
Doctors said the 56 year old envoy, who has heart trouble was fit to travel. So in blazer and slacks and with a “V” sign, off he flew, via Buenos Aires, Rio de Janeiro and Madrid.
“One thing he was quite insistent on,” said his son at the family home on Chelsea’s Cadogan Square, “was that he would continue in the Foreigh Service.”
That is after a long rest in England and a slap up party.