Ed was streaming a documentary about the Rockefellers and I was watching too. It reminded me of a connection to the family I experienced when I worked for the New York Times Syndication Sales. We had acquired the Kissinger memoirs for syndication and the manuscript had to be cut. Bruce Munn, a retired veteran United Press correspondent was working at the Syndicate several days a week doing editorial work. He was to cut the manuscript and I, with a reputation as the bionic typist, was to type it. This was in the mid-70s. Personal computers were not in common use then.
There was some confidentiality involved so Kissinger’s buddy, David Rockefeller, chairman of the Chase Manhattan bank in lower Manhattan, offered us a suite to do the work in privacy. So every day for about a week, Bruce and I met up at the bank and worked on the book. Rockefeller invited Bruce to lunch and, and I was, of course, not included. To David, I was invisible. Bruce came down from the lunch, held in the company’s corporate dining room, white faced. “They don’t serve liquor,†he gasped. Journalists in those days, and probably still, lived on martinis and scotch.
Kissinger was receiving the manuscript as it was taking shape and was so impressed with Bruce’s skill that he called to tell him so. Bruce walked over to me after the call, extended his hand and said, “You may kiss my ring.†To celebrate the end of the project, Bruce and I went to lunch on the expense account. We hied ourselves to Harry’s of Hanover Square and started lunch properly with martinis. What a time.
I was designated to deliver the final manuscript to Kissinger’s apartment located at the River House on the upper East Side. Oh boy, I thought, maybe I’ll get to see him. No, not a chance. The concierge took the manuscript and bid me good day. Hey, I got to see the lobby.
For a time, Jill St. John, the actress who was celebrated for having a very high IQ, dated Kissinger She reported, “Henry’s idea of romance is to slow the car down to 15 mph when he drops you off.â€
xx, Teal