Colonel Qadhafi

Thirty years ago tensions between the United States and Libya were near the boiling point. In December, 1981, President Ronald Reagan ordered the approximately 1,500 American citizens living in Libya to leave or face legal action. That's when CBS News decided to dispatch me to Tripoli along with a reporter and a camera crew.

I was assigned to temporary duty in the London bureau of CBS News at the time. It's not bad work if you can get it. Shortly following the White House announcement I was off to Gatwick airport, about 25 miles south of London, where a charter Lear jet was on standby. Thankfully I had enough time to run next door to the Hyde Park Hotel and pack.

We loaded up the charter with camera gear and luggage and awaited clearance to take off on a snowy cold night. But we had one major problem--we were not cleared to land in Libya! And we didn't have the required visas either. After much consternation and consultation the CBS News foreign desk told us to fly on to Nice, France, where we could refuel.

Even at midnight Nice was very nice. Temperatures were in the mid 60's and the breeze off the Mediterranean Sea, which ran along the south side of the airport, was very refreshing. As our plane refueled, I continued to await word from New York that we had been cleared to land in Tripoli. Following a two hour wait the foreign desk decided that we should take off for Libya while they continued their efforts to get permission for us to land.

Into the darkness we headed for the 800-mile flight to Tripoli. I remember the nervous laughter in the cabin as we flew beneath the stars and a bright moon over the pitch-black sea. Periodically our pilots updated us on our landing status--still no clearance. Nearly half way on our journey we decided to attempt a landing even though we did not have permission. Believe me, there were plenty of jokes about returning to the French Riviera.

There it was in the distance, Tripoli. I could see the mass of lights straddling the North African coastline. Tripoli is Libya's capitol and most populous city and it appeared to be floating surrounded by nothing on either side. Through my porthole sized window I immediately scanned the nighttime horizon for signs of Libyan fighters. There were none. I asked the pilots whether they had heard any radio traffic. At first they could not raise the airport tower. But after a few minutes we were cleared to land. Whew.

When our plane touched down in the predawn hours, we were directed to a parking area quite some distance from the terminal. After we had been parked for a half hour, we decided to disembark. Standing on the runway I could feel the warm moist air but no signs of life. The airport was quiet.

A small transport bus arrived nearly an hour after we arrived and security shuttled us on board for a ride to the terminal. As we got to the terminal our passports were taken from us and we were assigned to a holding area. There our gracious hosts served us pear juice and crackers.

We were then taken by bus to a hotel on the coast. I believe the name of the hotel was The Beach, but it sure wasn't the Four Seasons! We entered the darkened lobby and found the front desk unmanned. Men were sleeping in the chairs that filled the lobby area. It took several minutes for security to find someone to check us in.

Remarkably, the hotel was pretty full. I was assigned a room in the basement. Although it was musty, the room appeared clean and I had a small cellar window from which I could see out toward the sea. I watched daylight slowly creep in that morning before falling asleep.

Over the next few days we waited to be summoned to meet with Libya's leader, Colonel Muammar Abu Minyar al-Qadhafi. It seems that he wanted to make a statement to the world's press, who were arriving by the droves.

Everyday, at about noon, anti-American and pro-Qadhafi demonstrators gathered outside our hotel bearing placards, written in Arabic and English, and making a whole lot of noise. We assumed they were government workers. They praised their leader and life in Libya.

One evening we visited the home of some Americans who had been ordered out of the country by their president. We ate lamb and drank vintage wine. While liquor was technically illegal in Libya it could be found in most private homes.

On our third day it was announced that the world's press would be taken to the People's Jamahiriya, the people's palace, for a press event. We assumed that Colonel Qadhafi was ready to speak to us. As we entered the building all of our equipment was confiscated. We were all left in a room with no clue what would happen next.

About thirty minutes later I heard the sound of a motorcade screeching to a halt outside. Several minutes passed before a man entered and slowly walked through the crowd of journalists. He then retraced his route and walked out the door. A couple minutes later several men, I assume security, came through the door followed by Colonel Qadhafi. He walked be me, nodded as he passed, and proceeded through a door on the other side of the room. A quiet sense of excitement filled our room as we awaited further instructions.

A few minutes later a man emerged with an announcement in broken English. "There will be no press conference, you go home." With that brief statement the man walked out. "What?" "No press conference?" We were confused, but security got the message. They gave us back our equipment and drove us back to our hotels. We later received clarification; we were to leave the country. That was it!

It turns out that as we awaited our press conference General Wojciech Jaruzelski declared martial law in Poland. That was December 13, 1981. Word reached us that Colonel Qadhafi, wanted to address the negative press coverage he had been receiving on the front pages of the world’s newspapers. Coverage of martial law in Poland would now dominate the front pages and the Libyan leader would be buried deep inside the newspaper.

At first the CBS News foreign desk did not want to pull us out. We waited a couple of days to see what would happen. After all, this was the man President Reagan called, "The mad dog of the Middle East."

But our hosts were growing increasingly impatient. We were among the last to leave. As we boarded our charter for a return trip to London, I wondered what life was really like for Libyans who lived under the absolute and whimsical control of an all-powerful dictator. And how long would they allow this tyrannical autocrat to lead their country.

French Holiday

France is especially beautiful this time of year and teeming with vacationers and tourists. But here it is easy to see the impact of the ongoing economic turmoil that is roiling Europe. This is not to say the French people are despondent, after all it is holiday time in France.

Paris is alive with energy and passion. The banks of the Seine are populated in the evenings with picnickers and young lovers. The sidewalks of Boulevard Saint Germain as well as the Avenue des Champs-Élysée are bustling, even though their stores are not. Boats laden with sightseers slowly make their way past the Ile de la Cite where the Cathédrale Notre Dame de Paris towers above an endless stream of tourists from around the world. There are also lengthy lines of visitors waiting to ascend to the top of the Eiffel Tower. The World Cup matches in South Africa have captivated the attention most Parisians. Tens of thousands of young men and women gather in a park to watch the matches on a huge television screen regardless of who is playing.

In the richly colorful Provence, with its uniquely blue skies, vibrant trees with varying shades of green and an abundance of pink, purple and yellow flowers, the crowds seem smaller than usual. Clothing and jewelry stores are not full and many display sale signs. Many of the restaurants are not doing well.

In the Cote d'Azur, also known as the French Riviera, carefree crowds fill the beaches from Nice to Monaco and romp in the cool sea. Nonetheless, this wealthy region is not immune to the economic downturn. Many hotels, stores and restaurants are struggling even though this is their most important season for business. Thank goodness for the Russians, they are everywhere. In fact, one hotel employee observed that his hotel is fully booked between June and the end of August and 40% of the bookings are Russians. But, he quickly noted with a smile, "The Americans are coming back!"

France is always wonderful to visit. But some things are a bit annoying. For instance, when are these people going to get the memo about smoking? To France's credit, many cities forbid smoking inside a restaurant, unless you are a star or celebrity. Why don't bathtubs have better drains? Perhaps it is because the local population does not as frequently use showers. Why does it take so many people to get anything done? At one hotel it appeared that a full time person was assigned only to staple documents together, like the final bill.

Of course, you should know that according French law the tip is built in to your restaurant or hotel bill. Yet on credit card receipts the word "tip" appears just below the subtotal. If one asks the waiter whether the tip is included the answer may very well be "no", or the waiter may act as if he has just forgotten his English. He may be thinking, “Thank God the Americans are coming back!”