octopus on coral, Kenneth Jay Lane;
chambered nautilus, designer unknown.
PHOTOGRAPHER CREDIT UNKNOWN
Processing to Palm Sunday services in Tobago, April 1998. I didn’t have a donkey or burro pin for the occasion, so I wore my circular horse.
I used to think rings were not worth buying because people have only ten fingers; I have to admit now to possessing more pins than any human could reasonably have occasion to wear. Of these, I bought many, but a goodly number more were gifts. Like the emperors of old India, I have become a collector and hoarder; still, most of my pins remain of the costume variety, hardly suitable for a royal procession. As is typical with a collector, I am attracted both to similarity and to diversity. It is always interesting to find a piece that is different from any other but also fun adding to categories I already have.
Leopard head, other designers unknown.
DIANA WALKER/TIME
Nothing inspired me more than visiting American troops overseas. This pin was a gift from Barbara and Bill Richardson during his time as U.S. Ambassador to the United Nations. Celebration of Freedom, designer unknown.
Pin embossed with the Seal of the President of the United States, the White House. President Clinton’s signature is on the back.
The center of my collection remains the Americana group, which has been filled out with flags, bows, ribbons, freedom torches, and even brooch-size replicas of the Statue of Liberty. One standout is a pin given to me by President and Mrs. Clinton that depicts the Seal of the President of the United States; another is a composition of emblems representing our various armed forces, accented with sparkling crystals and topped by an enameled American flag. This was a gift from Mary Jo Myers, whose husband, General Richard Myers, was my military adviser at the time and later chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff.
Ode to U.S. Armed Forces, Mina Lyles.
STEVE MUNDINGER/THELONIOUS MONK INSTITUTE OF JAZZ
The Thelonious Monk Institute of Jazz celebrates one of America’s distinctive art forms by educating young people and sending musical ambassadors around the world. Colin Powell and I served as cochairs for the Institute’s twentieth anniversary celebration, at which Quincy Jones (left) and Herbie Hancock (center) presented a lifetime achievement award to Stevie Wonder. It’s hard to tell from the picture, but I managed to get an entire jazz band onto my jacket. Opposite page, amber musical instruments, Keith Lipert Gallery; other designers unknown.
Santa Fe eagles, Carol Sarkisian.
Eagle, Joseff of Hollywood.
Over the years, enough eagles have flown into my collection to comprise a small flock. One of the most interesting was produced by Joseff of Hollywood, who was famed for designing the jewelry in such films as Gone With the Wind, The Wizard of Oz, and the 1938 version of Marie Antoinette. Unlike the official U.S. eagle, this golden specimen clutches an olive branch on each side; its breast bears a shield garnished with red, white, and blue stones.
My most ingenious piece of Americana is a contemporary silver Liberty brooch. It shows the head of Lady Liberty, her eyes formed by two watch faces, one of which is upside down. The idea is that I can look down at the brooch to see when it is time for an appointment to end, while my visitor can look across at the pin for the same purpose. Dating from 1997, this design was made for “Brooching It Diplomatically,” an exhibition inspired by my pins and organized by Helen W. Drutt English. The event drew contributions from dozens of international artists who were invited to create pins that transmitted a message, often a moral lesson about peace, justice, human rights, or some other uplifting goal.
Helen W. Drutt English, an authority on modern and contemporary crafts and a curatorial consultant, was intrigued when she read that I had an unusual strategy for sending a political message. She invited jewelers from around the world to create pins that would send messages of their own. More than sixty artists from sixteen countries responded. Their imaginative contributions were displayed in “Brooching It Diplomatically: A Tribute to Madeleine Albright.” This unique exhibit opened in Philadelphia, toured Europe, and was hosted by the Museum of Arts and Design in New York in 1999. Two of the pieces are now in my collection. On this page is an untitled leaf, which Helen Shirk, an American, created to illustrate the organic nature of negotiations. Opposite is Liberty, a pin designed by Gijs Bakker of the Netherlands. The clocks are arranged so that I, looking down, and a visitor, looking across, will each be able to tell when the time for our meeting is up.
KHALED AL HARIRI/REUTERS
Meeting the press in Damascus, 1999. Is Syria ready to make peace? Not yet.
KHALED AL HARIRI/REUTERS
This snake is far more beautiful than anything that slithers through the gardens of my farm in Virginia. Snake, Kenneth Jay Lane.
While in government, I thought first when selecting a pin about the utility it might have in diplomacy. This is because some figures are laden with meaning. The lion, for example, has been linked to power and the sun since the days of ancient Greece. Thus, Syria’s formidable President Hafez al-Assad took considerable pride in the fact that his name means “lion” in Arabic. For our first meeting, I wore a lion pin, thinking it might put Assad in a forthcoming mood; it didn’t.
The serpent, connected in my mind to Saddam Hussein, is often portrayed alongside a tree or, as on my pin, a branch. Together, the serpent and tree are considered symbols of life, fertility, and (because the snake sheds its skin) renewal and rebirth. The association has cultural and religious connotations dating all the way back to the Garden of Eden—the concept of which can be traced to Mesopotamia, or modern-day Iraq.
Lion, Kenneth Jay Lane.
Two chicks, Tiffany & Co.
The dragon, meanwhile, has long symbolized China, as the bear has Russia, the koala Australia, and the mighty kiwi New Zealand. The Andean region is proud of its condor, Arabs of the peregrine falcon, Guatemala of the resplendent quetzal, Belize of the toucan, and the Bahamas of its flamingo. The United States may have a patent on the bald eagle, but other eagle species are claimed by a dozen lands, including Mexico’s golden variety, Poland’s white-tailed, Panama’s harpy, and the African fish eagle of Zimbabwe and Zambia. The ubiquity of the great bird of prey is what prompted Benjamin Franklin to suggest for America a national symbol all its own: the turkey.
Out of government, I have less need to concern myself with such associations. I am free instead to indulge my own preferences, which include, in addition to patriotic symbols, such intriguing creatures as butterflies, frogs, songbirds, winged insects, and an infinite variety of bugs—especially big ones, the kind that seem poised to leap from my jacket. As with the lion and serpent, many of these species come with a past.
Shaman Bear, Carolyn Morris Bach.
The dragonfly is an extraordinary species, with large eyes, two sets of powerful wings, an athletic body, and a healthy appetite for mosquitoes (center pin) and other pests. Known to the English as the “devil’s darning needle,” the insect is associated by the Japanese with courage, happiness, and strength. Artists find dragonflies fascinating; so do I. En tremblant dragonfly with pearl, Heidi Daus; turquoise enamel dragonfly, Ciner; yellow dragonfly, Swarovski; other designers unknown.
Spider Walia stickpin, Jewelry 10; green and silver spider, E. Spence; other designers unknown.
Crouching green and gold frog, Kenneth Jay Lane; other designers unknown.
The frog, for instance, is associated in many cultures with the creation myth, although I think of it more in the context of Moses and the second plague of Egypt (“The Nile will teem with frogs. They will come up into your palace and your bedroom and onto your beds.”). As for the spider, it has been renowned since ancient times for its patience, wile, and predatory attitude. I wear my spider pin—complete with web and fly—when I am feeling devious; if you see it on any day except Halloween, beware.
The butterfly, emerging from the chrysalis, was considered by the Greeks to be a symbol of the s
oul. In the art nouveau period, around the end of the nineteenth century, a popular jewelry design showed the body of a woman with the wings of a butterfly. This symbolized the liberation of women.
The liberation of a country was commemorated by the Cartier company when, in 1944, Nazi occupiers were driven from France. The brooch showed an open cage and a bird singing. Two years earlier, when the storm troopers seized Paris, the company had produced a similar piece, except with the birds locked up.
COURTESY OF THE CARTIER ARCHIVES/ © CARTIER
Archival drawing of Oiseaux en Cage, courtesy of Cartier.
N. WELSH/CARTIER COLLECTION/ © CARTIER
L’Oiseau Libéré, 1944, courtesy of Cartier.
Moonstone Dandelion Puff, Mauboussin.
Flowers, too, are abundant in my collection. Like animals and bugs, various species of flora have acquired a distinctive meaning in literature and lore. The pansy is supposed to indicate thoughtfulness; ivy signifies fidelity; the lotus and the orchid were representative of the supposedly lethargic East; and the forget-me-not is a plea, well, not to forget. Flowers are usually for happier times, yet the lily has mournful connotations as well.
It would be inaccurate to suggest that I spend my spare time carefully arranging my brooches according to their affinity for one another. I am conscious, though, of the varieties that I have collected and am pleased to add to certain groups on occasion. There are, however, some unusual pin ideas that must be considered on their own.
Rose de Noël, Van Cleef & Arpels.
Vegetable man and spring onion, designers unknown.
Apple, designer unknown;
gold leaf with red berries, Cécile et Jeanne;
two cherries, MV;
red grapes, designer unknown;
pomegranate, Cilça;
three cherries, I. Chase;
black cherries, Cilça;
cluster of grapes, Bettina von Walhof.
The smaller mushrooms represent Israel, Syria, and the Palestinian Authority; the larger is the United States. The pin was made from Syrian, Palestinian, Israeli, and American coins. Mushrooms, Mary Ehlers.
On my sixty-fifth birthday, Elaine Shocas, my State Department chief of staff, gave me sixty-five pins, each costing less than three dollars. One of the gifts was in the shape of a high-heeled shoe. This was in commemoration of a comment I made when I was designated by Bill Clinton as the successor to Secretary of State Warren Christopher: “I only hope my heels can fill his shoes.”
During Middle East peace talks, I was constantly besieged by the press. Journalists clamored to know everything about our meetings, even though the negotiators were pledged to secrecy. To deflect questions, I told reporters that peace talks were comparable to mushrooms, thriving only in the dark. My diplomatic security team soon surprised me with a custom-made pin depicting a tiny field of mushrooms. From then on, the mushrooms were a tip-off to the media that I had nothing revealing to say.
One set of pins that I bought for myself consists of a trio of brilliant enamels, each showing a ship at sea. Those familiar with history have asked me whether the ships represent the Niña, Pinta, and Santa María. I reply with a smile, for people should think what they want. In reality, I bought the pins with my three daughters in mind; the ships are beautiful, graceful, and moving along at full sail, having long since left home port.
High-heeled shoe, designer unknown. Opposite page: Sailing ships, designer unknown.
I love spending time with children. Here, the Girl Scouts are sporting merit badges; I’m wearing a fish. Bejeweled Mickey, Disney Enterprises, Inc.
U.S. DEPARTMENT OF STATE
THE SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION NATIONAL MUSEUM OF NATURAL HISTORY.
Speaking at the Smithsonian Institution National Museum of Natural History, Earth Day, 1998. On the opposite page is a group of environmental advocates.
Grasshopper, Landau;
cicada, Iradj Moini;
fly with pearl, Iradj Moini, green ladybug, Sandor;
two blue horseflies, designer unknown;
green, purple, and blue beetle, Kenneth Jay Lane.
In 2008, I was invited to participate in an excursion to the Arctic along with an eclectic boatload of scientists, academics, businesspeople, philanthropists, musicians, and my grandson David. The sponsors were the National Geographic Society and the Aspen Institute. The theme was climate change; the scenery included melting ice and worried polar bears. Although others brought back photos and T-shirts, I returned with a pin. The gift of Stefan Rahmstorf, a professor of ocean physics, and his wife, Stefanie, a jewelry maker, the pin is shaped like a C with a white pearl attached at the top and bottom. The letter represents carbon; the round pearls are O for oxygen. Together, they symbolize carbon dioxide, a major cause of global warming. With each pin sold, the Rahmstorfs are able to buy and retire a ton of CO2 from the European Union Emissions Trading System, thus reducing global emissions by that amount.
There is one other pin that is in a category by itself.
In the fall of 2006, I spoke at the D-Day Museum in New Orleans, at an event delayed for a year because of Hurricane Katrina. This gave me an opportunity to look around the city, large parts of which remained in ruins. I was saddened by the contrast between the museum—which celebrated America at its best—and the shabby treatment accorded to the residents of one of our country’s most beautiful and historic cities.
At the reception following my speech, a young man bearing a small box approached me. Inside the box was a pin. “My mother loved you,” he explained, “and she knew that you liked and wore pins. My father gave her this one for their fiftieth wedding anniversary. She died as a result of Katrina, and my father and I think she would have wanted you to have it. It would be an honor to her if you would accept it.” I am not often speechless, nor am I quick to tear up, but this gift pushed me to the brink. The young man’s father, I discovered, had earned two Purple Hearts fighting the Nazis in France, having suffered a bayonet wound and still carrying shrapnel in his left calf. His name is J.J. Witmeyer Jr.; he and his wife, Thais Audrey, were married for sixty-two years.
CO2, Stefanie Rahmstorf; polar bear, Lea Stein.
Katrina pin, designer unknown.
I call it the Katrina pin, a flower composed of amethysts and diamonds. I wear it as a reminder that jewelry’s greatest value comes not from intrinsic materials or brilliant designs but from the emotions we invest. The most cherished attributes are not those that dazzle the eye but those that recall to the mind the face and spirit of a loved one.
Wrapping Up Bow, designer unknown.
As these pages illustrate, pins are inherently expressive. Elegant or plain, they reveal much about who we are and how we hope to be perceived. Styles have changed through the years, as has jewelry’s role in relations between the genders and in the affairs of state. I was fortunate to serve at a time and in a place that allowed me to experiment by using pins to communicate a diplomatic message. One might scoff and say that my pins didn’t exactly shake the world. To that I can reply only that shaking the world is precisely the opposite of what diplomats are placed on Earth to do.
Black-eyed Susan, Sandor;
dandelion diamond puff
dandelion, McTeigue & McClelland;
lily of the valley, designer unknown;
tulip, designer unknown;
seed pearl flower, designer unknown;
sunflower, Carolee;
pearl flowers, JJ;
gold and aqua flower, designer unknown.
PINDEX
Frontmatter: THE GREAT SEAL OF THE UNITED STATES BOOK LOCKET AND PIN, 1990. ANN HAND, USA. 18KT YELLOW GOLD–PLATED BASE METAL. 1.4" X 1.4" (3.5CM X 3.5CM).
Frontmatter: THE UNITED STATES CAPITOL, CIRCA 1970. MONET, USA. YELLOW GOLD–PLATED BASE METAL, RHINESTONES. 2" X 1.6" (5CM X 4CM).
Frontmatter: ASYMMETRICAL GOLD HEART, 1996. ERWIN PEARL, USA. YELLOW GOLD–PLATED BASE METAL, GRANULATED FINISH. 2.8" X 2.2" (7.2CM X 5.6CM).
Frontmatter: RED HEART AND BOW, 1996. ANN HAND, USA. YELLOW GOLD–PLATED BASE METAL, RHINESTONES. 2.5" X 1.3" (5.5CM X 3.5CM).
Frontmatter: BEJEWELED HEART, CIRCA 1999. DESIGNER UNKNOWN, USA. OXIDIZED RHODIUM–FINISHED BASE METAL, RHINESTONES. 2.2" X 2" (5.6CM X 5CM).
Frontmatter: SPARKLING RED HEART, 1998. ANN HAND, USA. YELLOW GOLD–PLATED BASE METAL, RHINESTONES. 1.8" X 2" (4.5CM X 5CM).
Frontmatter: INTERLOCKING HEARTS, 1991. SWAROVSKI, AUSTRIA. YELLOW GOLD–PLATED BASE METAL, SWAROVSKI CRYSTALS. 2.8" X 1.9" (7CM X 4.8CM).
Frontmatter: PURPLE HEART, CIRCA 1980. D.M. LEE, USA. STERLING SILVER WITH SUGILITE, AGATE, CORAL CABOCHONS. 1.3" X 1.2" (3.3CM X 3CM).
Frontmatter: HAMMERED METAL HEART, CIRCA 2007. OMEGA, SWEDEN. HAMMERED AND OXIDIZED STERLING SILVER, GOLD. 4.1" X 1.5" (10.4CM X 3.9CM).
Frontmatter: RHINESTONE BOMBÉ HEART, CIRCA 1997. DESIGNER UNKNOWN, ACQUIRED IN ARGENTINA. RHODIUM-PLATED BASE METAL, RHINESTONES. 2" X 1.8" (5.2CM X 4.5CM).
Frontmatter: GOLD GINKGO LEAF, 2000. DESIGNER UNKNOWN, USA. GOLD-TONE BASE METAL, OXIDIZED STERLING SILVER, MARCASITES. 4.1" X 2.4" (10.4CM X 6.2CM).
Read My Pins: Stories from a Diplomat's Jewel Box Page 6
