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| That Damn Pause | Oct '06 |
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| By Cliff Robertson |
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Over the years, I've been invited by the U.S. State Department to act as a questionable ambassador of (questionable) good will to various (mostly Eastern bloc) countries. Just why, I'm not sure. It happened during both Republican and Democratic administrations—quite possibly because I've never joined any "Hollywood Bloc."
My political stripes are private—personal, and at times, meandering and middling. I certainly cannot lay claim to political punditry. As an actor and writer, perhaps our State Department felt I was "safe" because I was uncertain. Though I was certainly "certain" when I ventured into the Biafran Civil War in 1969, and some years later, when I went to Ethiopia during their tragic, horrendous starvation. These were non-public humanitarian ventures, and proved successful. Certainly they eased my Calvinist conscience. That I was non-political certainly helped. I had a few hairy incidents, but managed to escape. The Robertson luck and my conscience assuaged.
One assignment was positively fascinating: I was asked to go to Helsinki, ostensibly to help commemorate 300 years of friendship between America and that small, proud country. I was to speak at the University of Kuopio, as well as to the media in Helsinki. When asked by State Department officials in Washington, the following conversation transpired:
State Department Official: "Good morning, Mr. Robertson."
Cliff: "Good morning, sir."
SDO: "I hope I'm not calling at an inconvenient time."
Cliff: "Perfect time, sir.we're on the same time zone here in Long Island."
SDO: "Oh yes.of course. You received our invitation to fly to Helsinki, Mr. Robertson?"
Cliff: "Yes indeed.very kind of you."
SDO: "It's our pleasure, sir. Does the itinerary conflict in any way with yours?"
Cliff: "Not at all. I'm not filming at the present. But I do have one question."
SDO: "What is that, sir?"
Cliff: "Well, I was wondering if I might take a 19-year-old blond with me?"
SDO: "A.A what?"
Cliff: "A 19-year-old blond." (Another long pause)
SDO: "Well.well.I.I."
Cliff: "She shouldn't present a problem."
SDO: "Well.well.Mr. Robertson.I'm just not certain."
Cliff: "She's quite attractive, really."
SDO: "Oh, I'm sure she is.it's just that.that."
Cliff: "I'm quite willing to pay for her ticket and accommodations."
SDO: "I understand sir.it's just that."
Cliff: "Of course, if it's awkward."
SDO: "Well, it might be, in view of the fact you'll be staying in the American ambassador's residence in Helsinki."
Cliff: "Oh, I quite understand. My daughter is quite capable of taking care."
SDO (interrupting): "Excuse me, sir. Your daughter?"
Cliff: "Yes, her name is Heather. Heather Robertson."
SDO: "Of course. Heather. Yes, of course."
Cliff: "She's a college freshman at Georgetown and."
SDO: "Oh, of course. Well, under the circumstances, I don't see any problem—any problem at all with your daughter accompanying you on the trip. I'm sure she'll find it most interesting."
Cliff: "Oh yes. Heather is bright and quite independent."
SDO: "Yes, I'm sure.yes. Well then, it's all...shouldn't be any problem, Mr. Robertson. No problem at all."
And it wasn't—no problem at all—except in Europe, generally, where a certain cynical smile accompanied our introduction. To wit: "And this is Mr. Robertson of the United States, traveling with his.his daughter, Heather." And then that damn pause—that insinuating pause—that pause that separates the believing from the disbelieving.
One of the nicer things about my many friends in aviation, aside from their undying loyalty, is they do not afflict me with questionable pauses. When I was inducted last month into the Aviation Hall of Fame, certainly I had reason to not only pause, gasp for air, check my pulse and question why, why, why; but my dear aviation pals (many of whom are far more deserving than this addled actor/writer) certainly had reason for pause upon my nomination and induction. The worrisome thing about these ill-deserved awards is one cannot help but wonder if the giver has stumbled across some kind of medical biopsy report, and the thought has crossed their concerned brow that maybe—just maybe—old Cliff is preparing to check out to the large hangar upstairs.
Let me assure the reader that from all indications, I—according to my latest medical—show no signs of an "early retirement." As a matter of fact, I have just completed my 78th starring film, "Spider-Man 3," and have every intention of following the Calvinist work ethic that has hovered over my shoulders those many years.
No.Cliff is in fine fettle (for the fettle he's in) and intends to keep on acting, writing and certainly flying—be it in the 58 Baron, the SV-4 Stampe and his ever lovin', ever flyin' Grob Astir sailplane. Bless them all—all these wonderful birds of flight—and bless you readers all. And thanks for not pausing when introduced to my truly real, truly lovely, truly loving, truly legitimate daughter of mine.
Cliff's Note for Today: "Beware of the young doctor and the old barber." Benjamin Franklin
Academy Award and Emmy Award winning screen star Cliff Robertson has owned and flown a wide array of aircraft, including a Spitfire MK IX, a Messerschmitt ME-108, a French aerobatic Stampe SV4 biplane, a Grob Astir glider (in which he still holds a distance record) and a Beech Baron 58. A holder of single, multi, instrument and commercial licenses, as well as balloon, the pilot of many thousands of hours has accumulated many aviation awards, including EAA's highest Eagle award and the AOPA Sharples award. He was recently inducted into the National Aviation Hall of Fame, and the American Veteran Association has honored Cliff as Veteran of the Year. His columns will appear in his soon-to-be-published book. For information about Cliff, visit www.cliffrobertson.info.
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