Reporting for UPI

After Hattie, United Press International tracked me down and asked me to be their Belize stringer. Bucher was as pleased for me as I was excited. What nosy female could resist a ready-made excuse to talk to everyone in Government from the Premier on down? I did my best to file completely unbiased stories, occasionally was sent clippings of my stories from papers in far-off countries, and had a marvelous time with it for ten years.

From letter dated March 22, 1962

In late January, a bunch of Guatemalans “invaded” the colony, crossing the southern border. At first there was a real flurry of excitement about it, since the word was that they were Guatemalan soldiers. They tore down the Union Jack and burned it, burned a picture of the queen, proclaimed to the villagers that they had been “liberated” from Britain, and urged them to march to Belize City. British troops were rushed down, of course.

When the band was captured, a very different picture emerged. The police superintendent (one of our friends and one of my best news sources) said it was a comic opera performance. They were armed with .22’s and some revolvers, some with ammunition. One man had his revolver in two parts in different pants pockets because he had lost the screws out of it during the march into British Honduras. Aside from the leader and one young British Honduran who is a student in Guatemala, the rest were poor, illiterate Mayan chicleros (chicle gatherers) who thought they were on a mahogany-cutting expedition.

Well, things were wild around here for about a week, news-wise. I ran my legs off getting news, but it was fun. The Guatemalans are on trial now. I hope they let all the chicleros off and put the leader away for a good long time. His entire point, I gather now, was to get notoriety for himself to help his political career in Guatemala. He is a hero at home, since Guatemala has been more and more violent lately in her claims to sovereignty of B.H. But the fact that he has these poor chicleros on trial for using armed forces against the state and facing sentences that can be as high as life imprisonment doesn’t bother him at all.

 

The latest newsworthy event was the visit of Earl Mountbatten. As you probably remember, he was the first Governor-General of independent India, was one of Britain’s greatest naval heroes in World War II, is Admiral of the Fleet and Chief of the Defense Staff (equivalent of U.S. Joint Chief of Staff), and is uncle of Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh. I’ve admired him for years. When I heard he was coming for a three-hour visit at the end of a Caribbean tour, you can be sure I made arrangements to be on hand.

I went out to the airport with Rudy Castillo, who is head of radio news here, Chief Information Officer (a government post), and on the side is my competition as correspondent for Reuters.

Bucher, bless his heart, made me take our movie camera; I wouldn’t have thought of it. Rudy and I were standing under the overhang in front of the terminal when I realized that, to get pictures, I should be out on the runway. I told Rudy, really to get his permission, knowing that this had nothing to do with my job but was purely for our family pleasure. He told me to follow the government photographers, so I waltzed out onto the runway with one of them. I imagine that the sight of the two Creole men and me, high-heeled and feather-hatted, must have helped to make the occasion colorful.

When the plane landed, I was right at the foot of the steps taking pictures of the Admiral as he walked down. As a matter of fact, if I hadn’t recognized him, I might have waited for someone more impressive looking. He’s a handsome man, of course, but his entire manner is as relaxed and easy as anyone you’ve ever seen…not at all like an Earl and an Admiral. Furthermore, even on an admiral, tropical green uniforms look rumpled…although covered with battle ribbons half-way to the waist.

I got some excellent pictures (I hope) while the Earl accepted the salute of the honor guard of the B.H. Volunteer Guard and then inspected them. I got more in the army camp, where he inspected armaments and men.

Rudy had been told he could not arrange a press conference, but I kept heckling him and suggesting ways he could work it out. We ran by Government House just after the Earl arrived there for lunch and a meeting with the local heads of government and Rudy was turned down again.

I had let Alex stay out of school just to see the Earl when he left, and the two of us walked down to Government House (a few blocks from our house). While we were standing there, one of the radio announcers came dashing up, gasping that the press conference had been granted and saying that a car was waiting. They had gone by my house and when I wasn’t there, followed me to be sure I didn’t miss out. I think that was darned nice.

Anyway, we made it in time. The Earl was introduced to us, shook hands, and answered questions. He really is a very impressive man, warm and approachable, but with a great deal of authority when he speaks. We asked the usual questions involving British Honduras, and then I couldn’t resist throwing in a loaded one. I felt rude doing it, but often you can catch someone of his position off guard and get a really good quote.

I asked if he would comment on the announced resumption of nuclear testing by the U.S. He opened his mouth as if he were going to answer, did a double-take, took two quick paces backward, and then burst into a guffaw and a broad grin, crinkling up his bright eyes. “What?” he bellowed. “Are you trying to get me sacked? Don’t you know the military doesn’t dare comment on political matters?” I laughed and agreed that that was the answer I was afraid he’d give, and he chatted for a minute or two longer.

He seemed very pleased at the crowds who turned out to see him as he left the city, and I assumed our son was one of the mob. It was a big day for me. I loved it. Furthermore, it made a good rehearsal for Prince Philip’s visit. He’s coming on April 4th. I can hardly wait.