Lacy Wright I WAS last month in London, still a city of fascination for Jamaicans and Americans alike. My mission was to attend the funeral of Sir Philip Powell, whom The Times' .obituary called 'an architect of rare distinction.'
Sir Philip and his wife Lady Philippa were our guests in Kingston in 1994, when we invited Jamaica's most prominent architects to meet them at our house in Stony Hill. Life-long socialist, relentless source of humour, beloved fixture at Britain's Royal Academy of Arts, and erstwhile landlord to a young American diplomat who arrived on his doorstep in the fall of 1970, Philip Powell was a man for whom simplicity was a passion. His Museum of London, his Queen Elizabeth II Conference Centre on Parliament Square, his hospitals and his houses were all designed not as monuments but on a human scale, meant to welcome and give pleasure to the people who used them. His modesty belied his immense talent and powers of concentration, and helped him win an army of admirers, of whom I was one of the most unabashed.
RICH APPEAR TO
BE GETTING RICHER
The London I knew in 1970 has of course, changed. The rich appear to be getting richer, judging from the Porsches, Maseratis, Lotuses and other luxury cars that abound in South Kensington. Immigrants appeared more in evidence than before, many from other parts of the European Union. Class distinctions, all-pervasive in the England of the early '70s, have abated but not disappeared. Given human nature, they won't, either not in Britain or the United States or anywhere else.
I noted that London motorists' disdain for pedestrians remains intact. In most situations, drivers simply expect people on foot to get out of the way, comportment that would not be tolerated in California, where the pedestrian is king, or even New York City.
Conversely, I was impressed by the good manners of British airport security operatives. Although they were just as intrusive and poorly focused as their American counterparts (one lowered the risk of terrorism in England by having this graying traveller remove his shoes), their courtesy made them hard to resent. They unfailingly addressed passengers as 'sir' or 'madam', a welcome contrast to the Americans, many of whom seem unable to rise above 'you guys'.
There are still plenty of Jamaicans in London, and I ran into two who were friends of the Powell family. Both smartly-dressed working women, they were happy to reminisce about Jamaica and discuss characters we knew in common.
AMERICAN
DIPLOMATIC MISSIONS
I could not visit London without dropping by my old workplace, the US embassy on Grosvenor Square. Of course, one does not 'drop by' American diplomatic missions any more; gaining entrance now requires a major effort. Some things, however, don't change. Camped directly in front of the embassy were several groups protesting one or another US policy. A British colleague at the embassy (one of only two left who remember me) said one recent group played a drum all day, driving embassy employees within earshot to distraction.
No one complained, however, because to do so would have provoked continued drumming, while silence was meant to create the impression that the noise was having no effect and dampen the protesters' spirits. He thought it had worked.
I was amused to see that the British have not escaped the loonier extremes of political correctness. A well-known portrait painter and Royal Academy member told me he had stopped teaching some years ago when school authorities renamed his classes. 'Drawing' became "Mark-making with Intent," while 'Outdoor Drawing' was transformed into 'Environmental Design'.
I am sorry Sir Philip was not with us to hear that one. He would have loved it.
Lacy Wright was Deputy Chief of Mission at the US Embassy in Kingston and acted as Ambassador in 1993-1994. He can be reached at LacyWright@cox.net
