From 1971 to 1974 the Robinsons lived in Kinshasa, Zaire, where Russell was working for Pan American doing technical assistance for Air Zaire, the national airline of Zaïre under President Mobutu. Marjorie had just left Kinshasa with Russell's mother to return the boys to school in England, and deliver Theresa Robinson to Napa, where she was going to live with her daughter Claire (husband James Gellinger). In these letters Russell describes some of the difficulties of working in a country run by an African dictator for an airline Mobutu considered his private airline! Russell was left tending to son Chris and daughter Laurie (Lou, or Louie) while Marjorie was gone for 3 weeks.
From Russell to Marjorie
From Kinshasa to California
October 4, 1972
My love,
Thought about you all day yesterday, transiting BRU arriving LON, finding the Kensington close, delivering the shopping cart, talking with our boys, etc. Today (it’s noon) you are getting ready to leave for Heathrow (knowing you, you probably left an hour ago!). Hope the 747 flight is pleasant and the Claire and Jim are there to meet you. I never did get an acknowledgment that SFO contacted them, but of course that doesn’t mean they didn’t. We shall see shall.
Much excitement of a dismal kind or just after we left you at the airplane. We were stopped by the military re-entering the terminal and I simply showed my QC pass and on being asked, said Laurie was my daughter. Got polite thank you in return. But François began to argue and shout when they question him, so they promptly arrested him and took him off somewhere. L and I found the car and waited by it.
Then I tried to get back on the tarmac to see if I could find out where they had taken François and what was happening to him, but everything was locked. Finally, after an hour we give up and took a taxi for 23.50. Good thing, too, because I found out in the morning (when to our surprise, he showed up on sked) that they held him until 1 o’clock, broken his glasses, torn his shirt and insisted he pay a “fine.”
Now he’s due back on Friday a.m. to go further into the fine bit. Poor guy! Yesterday was quiet—still no sentinel (night watchman -ed). I’ve asked Bruce to walk around the outside of the house before he goes to bed, carrying his machete, and looking properly fierce, and he has – and so far, no voleurs. But Frankie is looking for another sentinel today. I’m afraid Pierre minor is a writeoff.
Last evening Laurie and Bruce went off to the basketball game and Chris came out for what turned out to be a long and serious chat. We discussed his plans (he says now he regrets bitterly his casual attitude toward academics and is determined to do well in his levels, enter university and prepare for a teaching career); Geoffrey (he was amazed to hear that G thinks his chances of getting into a top-rated British university are nil, because Geoff had bragged to him that he could get into anything he pleased); his walking (he was very chastened when I told him it was apparent that Ralph has just about given up on him because of his own lack of interest and effort). He admitted it, but said he wasn’t sure he really wanted to walk again and didn’t know why he felt that way, but knew he did. Stop in between we talked about Lou and agreed that she was something else. Of course we discussed his students too; students he’s quite pleased with their progress. So!
Bob, Bill W, Jim and Bill Bath were all here yesterday to discuss schedules . . . but in spite of his (Bob’s) speech Monday morning about getting together Tuesday or latest Wednesday to discuss all my problems, which have the highest priority in the airline, etc. no time whatever fixed! So we drift. Alors!
I do hope Mom had a good trip and was not too tired. Please tell her all of us miss her very very much and send our love. Kat sits in my lap most of the time, but otherwise doesn’t seem to have combed the house searching for you. He’s fed, so ça va
Well, give your mother a hug and kiss (if you ever catch up with her!). I miss you werryy much but won’t feel it most until the weekend. I do adore you!
Your,
Russ
From Russell to Marjorie
From Kinshasa to California
October 6, 1972
My darling,
It’s a bright shiny day, Laurie’s in school, Chris is in bed, and I suppose Bruce too. Lou got 100% on her French test, and you probably know she got an “excellent” on her stereotype theme. Also, you got a letter from your mother, postmarked September 25! When you come back maybe you’ll find out where she went!
Did I tell you we have a gnu sentinel? Older than Pierre minor, bit rough looking, but apparently OK. He reported on Wednesday at 18:00, and who strolled in at the same time but Pierre! I never did find out why he did not come for five nights. He simply left without saying.
Small domestic tragedy last evening. Aida (who? -ed) ordered spaghetti, and when Laurie found out she asked to eat with me. Then, screams.
The sauce was awful, and we figured out that Pierre had simply put the hamburger into the remnants of Christopher’s soup. I finished mine somehow, but you can imagine what Lou did with her full plate. At least the plate is still intact.
Must Report on Pan Am changes. Regional VPs have disappeared. There are now five “Division VPs”: Erskine Rice, NYC; Walt L Sasser, the rest of the USA; “Judge” Barnette (yes) LAD; Ed Swofford still PAC; and Jim Montgomery Europe, Africa, ME and India! Vanished are Lloyd Wilson, Jack Lillis, Jerry O’Donnell, CC Moore and Bill Naylor – Kate talking at least for the moment. They may surface as sub Chiefs, who knows? JM finally got clobbered, but in a nice way, if it means as I would guess that his HQ will be LON. Some comedown!?
On the homefront (as you may have read) Nzuga, the Zaïrois Foreign Minister, is home in a huff, recalled by president Mobutu from Britain, where he was to pay a four-day state visit.
Seems he was invited by Douglas Home while they were at the UN; he accepted and later arrived to be met by a foreign service “functionary of the third rank”, taken to his hotel in London, where he was forced to wait for four hours before his room could be made up. Meanwhile, the Whitehall type disappeared, and it wasn’t until 6 PM that home telephone to invite him to spend the weekend in the country. Too late – he already phoned the chief, who declared publicly “it is time Britain learned that this is no longer the 19th century. Empires are finished”. Poor Mark Allen! All his good work undone.
Meanwhile, odd things are happening here. The government had pledged to repair four airports in the interior to enable them to accept the Caravelle, on the basis of which Bob signed the option to buy a Caravelle (we have been leasing them up to now). Then the government found out that the work would cost at least 3 to 4 million Zaïre, if not more, so activity, the minister of transport, phoned Fokker in Holland, called their man down, and proposed to buy two F-28s this year, two more in ‘73 and two more in ‘74. All this without a word to Air Zaïre We found out from our American friends in the FAA. Yesterday Bob and I went to see the chef du Cabinet of the minister (who dodged us himself) to ask that our advice be sought before any decision is made. Oh yes, we were assured. Then Bob began looking for ambassador Vance and there the chapter ends.
Don’t forget some latches for the doors, OK? And would you get me a can of shaving cream? The electric razor is pretty bad. And a small (medium?) plastic bottle of Vitalis for traveling.
Bless you. You’re finally at your mother's, I guess, it being Friday. Have a loverly weekend. All is well here (I think!) Oh, and we miss you. Floyd misses you. Give grandmother our love. I love you so much.
Russ
From Russell to Marjorie
From Kinshasa to California
October 9, 1972
My love,
Yesterday I redeemed the family honor by winning seven Zaïre from the three O’Neals. I would have won more except that for the last hour or so they complained whenever I dropped out of a hand, so I tended to stay with bad cards. The remarkable part of the performance was that I was Not Well.
That floating tooth of mine became infected, and simultaneously a problem developed on the other side of my mouth. Result was that both lymph glands were working furiously, and my jaw was swollen. Stephen, bless his heart, came back with two penicillin capsules after the game, and they worked wonders. Nonetheless, I better have that silly tooth out. It’s nothing but grief.
I’m sorry to add that Floyd is covered with mango worms on his tummy. He must have 20! So this morning Laurie (who has a holiday) is going to take him to a vet. Poor thing. He doesn’t seem to hurt but he’s very subdued, lies on the dining room chair all day and meows weakly. It didn’t help, of course, when yesterday morning he ran under my feet as I was striding down the hall and I stepped hard on his paw. Oh dear!
Laurie’s science project is television, and we spent a lot of time on that Saturday and Sunday.
Bruce is still with us. Chris gave 20 Zaïre to somebody to buy that gadget (I cannot ever remember its name, but it does something to the guitar sound) and was broken again, because I held back 15 Zaïre of the 35 he had coming, and said I’d continue to do that in order to save some money for him. He agreed 100% and said “only give me some if I tell you I need it urgently”.
So Saturday noon he came out with a small army of friends, and asked for five days a year to have lunch at the Intercontinental and I said “no”. He and Lou took it surprisingly well. In fact they’re a bit cold, because I’ve come down on them hard this week. Sunday morning I found an unbelievable mess in the kitchen where they cooked, messed things up, left peanut butter and jam jars out open, bread sitting around etc.
When Laurie finally got up I told her that was it, and from now on when I went to bed I was going to lock the kitchen and take the keys with me. So last evening they asked me, before leaving for the movies, if they should eat then or could they wait until they came home. I couldn’t understand the question until they reminded me that I threatened to lock them out of the kitchen. So I said OK, wait, and they did. This morning everything was in the sink, sort of rinsed and the kitchen looked quite decent. Maybe there’s hope.
The president left for Addis Ababa, Dar-es-Saalam, and Nairobi Saturday morning, and Bill Wallace went with him, it having been decided that either he or Bob must go on every presidential trip. The DC-8 was scheduled to go to Addis and return that p.m., laying over here on till Monday, but at the last minute the president decided the plane must stay with him. So there was Bill, standing on the tarmac with nothing but a briefcase, leaving on a six day trip! What to do? He left.
Friday the government resigned. All the ministers are out until Mobutu returns, when presumably he’ll keep some, fire the others, shuffle them around etc. Have you ever?
We followed you this weekend, but you never seemed to be up. At noon you certainly weren’t. When the O’Neals arrived it seemed most unlikely, it being 7 a.m. your time. So you slept all day and we never did get to talk to you, but we thought about you. Did you sleep well?
Thank you for your postcard. Glad to find you were on schedule and the boys are fine. It took five days for the card to arrive, so I guess we better open a service to London. Today is the 9th, which means there are 11 days before you arrive and 18 until the boys come home. I hope we can avoid complete disaster during that time. I gave the new sentinel one Zaïre for the bus, and lent François ten Zaïre to pay his fine to the military. But I still have money. Do you? Hope so. I’m writing to G and L today. We miss you too much. I do love you. All of us send kisses and hugs. Will you write to us?
Your,
Russ
From Marjorie to Russell
From California to Kinshasa
October 10, 1972
Dearest ones,
Tuesday already. My reservations are made for next Wednesday. I’ll have to look out on BEA, but I have all day after all. I will be home on QC 311 Friday morning, 20th at 5:25. Happy anniversary!
Last Saturday we drove up to San Rafael for dinner with the Barlow’s. Very pleasant evening and lovely dinner. It was so nice to see them. Dick is in Algeria, but Linda hasn’t been able to join him because there is no place to live yet. She’s teaching school in North Carolina.
Sunday we went to Napa and had a simply marvelous lunch and visit. Mom and mother got along famously and it was thoroughly enjoyable. Jim very sweetly guided us back out of town onto the freeway. We got home just before dark. They are coming here Sunday p.m. and stay for dinner. They’ve called every evening and we chat. Mom goes to the doctor today about her arm.
I started with the doctor yesterday p.m. So far he can only suggest a little high blood pressure, cut down on salt. I’ve had x-rays, blood tests and cardiogram so far. One more test Thursday and a final appointment on Friday for a verdict. There isn’t anything wrong, but I might as well know that.
Company last night for dinner. Alta Williams. Haven’t seen her for 30 years. Tonight people in for dessert. We’re going shopping shortly. Did a little yesterday. Julie has called several times. She really is not as happy as she sometimes thinks. She has lots of friends.
It promised rain yesterday but today is bright so far. I’ve been away a week. We think and talk about you all the time. It’s been so much fun to be with Claire and Jim. I can tell you all about it when I get home. Just wanted you to know I’m thinking of you and I will probably be home almost as soon as you’ve read this.
I love you very much,
Marjorie mother
From Russell to Marjorie
From Kinshasa to California
October 11, 1972
Dearest one,
OK yesterday Joe Gott's secretary called to ask what I wanted done with my Telex to SFO since it seemed a bit outdated. Which telex? I asked. The one advising Gellinger of your arrival. She claims it arrived in her office October 9, some 10 to 12 days after I sent it over! I wonder what happened when you got to SFO? Guess you had to phone Claire and wait. No point in even asking my hapless secretary what she did with the envelope, I’m sure. Poor you.
We are surviving. Laurie has beaucoup homework—a book report, a history report and this morning a history test, for which she was not well prepared since she (and I) started studying the three chapters only last night! She half wanted to stay home today but I said no and she wasn’t really serious anyway. The other night she and I worked together on her book report, which is based on Bury my Heart at Wounded Knee, and after a couple of hours of conversation she said “you know, I can hardly remember the last time we had a talk”. She was quite right, probably not since New York or the early days here. I was touched.
Chris was off at 8:15 with Floyd to the vet, to get rid of more worms, of which he still has a few. Then he’ll pick up Eleanor to go to the library. Bruce went with Lou, so he’ll already be there. I do hope between Eleanor and Chris I’ll get something to read!
Bob is busy flipping back-and-forth from airport to town and finally Monday afternoon we caught him and obliged him to approve the winter schedule, which was virtually identical to the ones submitted to him last July 1. So tonight we’re having to send a man to LON to hand carry the schedule so as to make sure it’s in the hands of the ABC ginde before the October 15 deadline. The other day (Mon. a.m.) Monsieur Isiaka came by, and while he was here one of my people reminded me that we have thousands of tickets stuck at the printers in Milan for one of Zaïre's government approval to import them . . .
And it was believed that Bob Bell had asked Isiaka over a month ago to get approval from the national bank for these and for more than $200,000 worth of Fokker spares, which have been desperately required here.
When I brought this up he exploded, saying that in August he’d had Bob sign just such a request, but on following up with the bank they admitted they had lost it, but said if a copy was sent over they’d approve it immediately. Isiaka said he told Bob that, and Bob said fine . . .
But this afternoon when I recounted that to Bob, leaving out the bit about Isiaka, having told him, it was Bob’s turn to explode. He’s never heard of it, he said, and somehow everyone was to blame. Meanwhile, however, no spare parts and no tickets for a month (well, tickets, but not very many). Is this anyway to run . . . ?
Well have you shopped, shopped, shopped? I should imagine. And partied? I’ll bet. Are you going to make any little two or three day trips to someplace like Tahoe? How is your weather?
Today’s is overcast here, and the other night it rained. It seems to me that there should be a letter from you by now, may be arriving today on Pan Am from New York. If you’ve written, that is. But considering that your mother’s letter was postmarked September 25 and reached me October 3, I don’t know.
John Fitzgerald of Boeing is back, disappointed that you didn’t stop in Rome, but I told him you were afraid the Colosseum would collapse on you. You have read about all that. I got the Tribs very late now so I’m about a week behind on any news and it’s killing me, because the Red Sox and the Tigers were in their final series for the pennant last week and I still don’t know who won. Do you watch TV at all? I think you’ll miss the World Series, it’s very late this year. Let’s see, you’ll leave SFO on the 18th or the 19th? Didn’t you say you’d come straight through? Then it's the 19th. But don't miss connects! Have a lovely time. We all think of you and send you all our love.
Your,
Russ
From Geoff to parents
From Berkeley to Montreal
November 16, 1976
Here’s the famous novelist sitting down at the typewriter and pounding out a new novel at the incredible speed of . . . Wait for it. . . Eight words per minute. The onlookers gas with amazement and admiration as his hands skim effortlessly over the keys, producing a flawless copy every time . . . Well . . . er . . . Not quite perfect exactly but still, unbelievably fast . . . wellllllllll, not that fast, but pretty fast, or, at least, faster than some although a bit slow compared to others, in fact, slowish by any standards but still . . . Well, rather slow actually, miserably slow, depressingly slow . . . An aging snail could do better . . . An arthritic and could beat him easily . . . Never in the history of the typewriter has anyone been so SLOW . . . (I’ll practice)
I’m sitting at the table with 11 books in front of me—the readings for this week! Well, just selections of each but a sizable amount nonetheless. My first oral report was well received; I’m due to give another next week. Despite the fact that our class meets on what would be Thursday of Thanksgiving, the professor has artfully managed to persuade us to meet earlier in the week. He is unprincipled. I’m going to the gallon jurors on the 24th for fowl.
The other day we went down to San Jose to see Christine's friends from Germany. The last time we saw them, their little baby was still in the crib. Now it walks around and talks in a mixture of German and English, just as we must have done. We brought her a fluffy dog, and she had fun wrapping and unwrapping it for hours. So there is something to Bill Cosby’s observation that when you buy kids hundreds of dollars worth of toys, they invariably playing with the boxes.
I don’t remember if I told you that, earlier in the quarter, Cindy called me from Colorado. She called again yesterday. She’s probably called you by now; I forgot to give you her number in the first time. Here is (303) 444-7344. I was thinking of going out to see her at Thanksgiving but the Gallenger is persuaded me to come there and go at the end of the quarter instead. I still may, but Christine and others say it’s a difficult drive if the weather is anything but good. If I did, I would then come home about 20 December. I was trying to get her to come to Montreal but I don’t think she can afford it. (editor’s note – Montreal? We were not living there until 1976 – did Geoff mistype the year?)
Berkeley has a program called Cal in the capital which place is about 75 students in federal and private summer jobs in Washington each year. I’ve been thinking of applying for this summer, trying to get along or diplomacy related position. Last week they held the Pacific pre-law conference here at Berkeley in which deans and admissions people from law schools all over the country, and talked interested students. I talked to about 10 of them, including Harvard and Yale. Their main criterion for admission appears to be performance on the LSAT, so I’ll have to work hard preparing to take it (probably in September of next year). My English prof from last Porter is encouraging me to go on to get a PhD in English; he says my manner and resources are exactly those needed! But the job prospects and academia look very depressing; supply doubles command. Still, it’s a possibility which I’ll keep in mind
I better get back to Cicero. Christine’s going out dancing, leaving me to slave away alone. Oh well, we’ll see who gets in where when application time comes around: the grasshopper or the slow typist.
I love you,
Geoffrey
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