Frustrated at times by the response, though not at all surprised, we in the Household could do little but allow ourselves to be mildly amused by what we read. If anything, the ridicule only spurred us on to make the project work.
I had served five years as Press Secretary to the Prince and Princess of Wales, but their split inevitably necessitated an adjustment in my responsibilities. In February 1993, I accompanied Charles on a trip to Mexico. The previous November, just prior to the recce for that tour, I’d received a call from Diana’s private secretary, asking if I could accompany him on a recce to Paris, for the Princess’s tour, scheduled for the same time as the Mexico trip. As I couldn’t be in two places at once, a decision had to be made.
The circumstance would mark the end of my formal association with Diana, as I was left in charge of press management for the Prince alone.
Even before the issue with the tour schedules arose, I had discerned that some sort of change was imminent. It had been known for some time that the Prince wanted to break away from Buckingham Palace and create his own press office at St James’s Palace, a move he planned to fund with revenues from the Duchy of Cornwall. His separation from the Princess presented him with the ideal opportunity to make the change sooner rather than later. The plan had actually been in the works just prior to the Windsor fire, and I knew that several members of staff would be involved in the reorganization. By the time they were redeployed, most had gone away satisfied with their new positions, or at the least, very grateful to still be in a job.
‘His Royal Highness would like for you to continue working for him,’ said the Prince’s private secretary, Richard Aylard, when it came time for me to get the call.
There was just one snag. The move would mean my transferring from the Queen’s Household, my current employer, to Charles’s.
As soon as the offer came, I knew I didn’t want to accept. Soon after beginning my career at the Palace, someone told me to ‘never forget whose household you’re in.’ I had taken the advice to heart. I was a member of the Queen’s Household, and felt tremendous loyalty to Her Majesty.
While I had nothing but respect for the heir to the throne, I declined his offer.
In theory, I was now out of a job. While the position hadn’t been proposed as a ‘go with the Prince or hop’ offer, I had been left in the balance so to speak. A place needed to be found for me. That place would prove to be The Royal Collection.
As the department responsible for the care and maintenance of all the works of art under royal stewardship, as well as visitor management for Windsor Castle, it could not have been a more opportune time to join The Royal Collection. Following the fire, the department had suddenly found itself working in overdrive.
The summer opening of Buckingham Palace required an opening committee, which was duly assembled under the chairmanship of the Lord Chamberlain, Lord Airlie. Within that committee was the need for a new member of staff to oversee media relations, in short the committee’s own dedicated press secretary. Enter yours truly.
In many ways it was a dream position. The Royal Collection had never had a designated press secretary, so I was able to create the role for myself with a blank canvas. As I saw it, there were three aspects to my new job. First, I would promote Royal Collection exhibitions in the Queen’s Gallery at Buckingham Palace, as well as the exhibitions at Windsor Castle and the Palace of Holyrood House in Edinburgh.
Secondly, I would manage press interests in the Windsor Castle restoration. This entailed seeing to it that every element of rebuilding was recorded on film, both for archival purposes, and for the eventual production of a television documentary to be aired once the project was complete.
My final role would be to media-manage the Palace’s summer opening. Following the emotional highs and lows of the past couple of years, not to mention the constant travelling, my new position was a welcome opportunity.
The first meeting of the summer opening committee took place in April. The Palace would open its doors to the public on 3rd August, immediately after the Queen’s departure to Balmoral. There was much to be done within a short space of time.
Clearly, Buckingham Palace had not been designed to be a tourist attraction, so some strategic planning had to be implemented. It was decided that visitors would be permitted to see all of the State Rooms, which presented the logistical challenge of routing them in such a way as to avoid congestion and prevent them from having to retrace their steps. There was also the key business of making sure they were forced to exit by way of the yet-to-be-built gift shop. Then there were the peripheral matters: ticketing, public loos, souvenirs etc.
Naturally, security was also a major concern. At the outset, we knew we’d need a bag check and scanning equipment at the entrance. We would also need a marquee for the Ambassadors’ Entrance on Buckingham Palace Road. Lastly, a small army of temporary wardens would need to be hired.
As a tour through the State Rooms presented an enormous amount of information for visitors to absorb, I suggested that we produce a half-hour video that would highlight the rooms’ various features, and which could be purchased at the end of the tour.
Video production does not come cheap. I sought quotes from both British Ceremonial Arts (BCA) – the Palace’s resident TV production company – as well as a number of out-of-house companies. The quotes ranged from £25,000 to £80,000.
‘Ludicrous!’ thundered one of the committee members who’d worked in television his entire life…only as an accountant rather than a producer. ‘It’s ridiculous to spend so much for something like this.’
He went on to suggest that I rent a hand-held video camera and film the various rooms myself.
‘That’s like asking an odd-job man to rebuild Windsor Castle!’ I replied, offended by the suggestion. I emphatically declined.
The meeting room went silent. My gaze met that of the Lord Chamberlain, who was clearly stifling a smile.
I got my way.
The committee accepted BCA’s quote of £25,000, and I duly produced the State Rooms documentary. I could only hope that my instinct would prove correct, and that sales would more than offset the cost.
Merchandising did not fall under my job detail, but the final selection of items to be sold in the gift shop would include bone china mugs and pill boxes, engraved glasses, coasters, commemorative plates and coins, Buckingham Palace-themed tea, biscuits and chocolate…and the inevitable guide book among other souvenirs.
By late spring, all that was left was to send out a press notice inviting reporters to a dedicated press day, which I felt would be the best way to reach out to the UK media as a whole. As a press office of one, it was a busy time for me.
I put together a comprehensive advisory that included all pertinent information about the project. It was sent to all of our contacts, as well as the Press Association – the UK’s major news agency – under the assumption that through them it would also be picked up by the foreign news agencies.
We received more than 600 requests to attend. I personally answered each one with a hand written invitation. To my knowledge every one of them attended the press day, and experienced the inaugural tour of the magnificent State Rooms.
Joining some of the tours, I was stunned by the positive response from so many hardened, often cynical, journalists. Their approval became even more noticeable in the souvenir shop. Having laughed at our efforts earlier in the year, they proceeded to clear most of the shop’s inventory. Panicked, we placed a much larger order of stock in preparation for opening to the general public. Our optimism was not displaced. The first year’s summer opening was a phenomenal success, with over 400,000 visitors passing through the Palace gate. Our ‘tacky’ souvenirs sold like hotcakes, exceeding everyone’s modest expectations.
In the years to come, our guidebook would go on to be printed in several languages. Even a simple Buckingham Palace carrier bag became a highly prized commodity. Personally, I was most thrilled to realise that we sold 15,0
00 copies of the documentary video at £10 per copy. It was £25,000 well spent.
With the first season of the Palace summer opening under my belt, there would soon be another royal residence preparing to admit visitors. In February 1994, my wife, daughter and I were offered the opportunity to move into a grace-and-favour apartment at Kensington Palace. Based in the Old Barracks, we were to live next door to the Queen’s Private Secretary, Sir Robert Fellowes and his wife, Lady Jane – Diana’s sister. Upstairs lived Brigadier Miles Hunt-Davis, Private Secretary to the Duke of Edinburgh, and his wife Gay, and Paul Burrell, Diana’s infamous butler, shared the apartment opposite with his family. Ours was a cosy two-bedroom flat with ample space for the three of us. At first it was strange to live so close to where I worked, but it was also incredibly convenient. My previous 45-minute slog through heavy traffic had become a ten-minute drive or a half-hour leisurely stroll on foot to Buckingham Palace.
Diana may not have been my boss any longer, but living just down the road from her gave me the opportunity to continue to see her on a regular basis.
CHAPTER 14
Smiling for the Cameras
June 1994
By the end of 1992, the public’s perception of Prince Charles could not have been worse. He was increasingly portrayed as the villain, while Diana – thanks largely to the Andrew Morton memoir (which she continued to deny having had anything to do with) – was generally viewed as the victim. Charles could do nothing but keep his head down and continue with his responsibilities as heir to the throne.
In 1993, he agreed to do a televised interview for an ITV documentary detailing the various achievements of his exceedingly successful charity, The Prince’s Trust. I thought the program would serve as an ideal vehicle in which to shift focus away from his personal life and back to more worthy matters.
As so often happens with best-laid schemes, things quickly went awry. What was supposed to be a straightforward, strictly work-related interview turned into something much more personal, as Charles was coaxed into baring his soul on the issue of his failed marriage to Diana.
Filmed in part in the choir stalls of St George’s Chapel, Windsor, the interview proved excruciating at times, as the Prince openly confessed to his extramarital affair with Camilla Parker Bowles. Perhaps equally damaging was the Prince’s contention that, while he was not considering divorce at the time, he did not believe that it would present a barrier to his becoming King. Once he ascended the throne, Charles would serve as Supreme Governor of the Church of England and Defender of the Faith, and this was at a time when divorce was still a highly contentious issue in many religious quarters.
I have no doubt that Richard Aylard, the Prince’s Private Secretary, had persuaded Charles to answer the questions. Interviewer Jonathan Dimbleby would have certainly provided additional influence. Whatever the case, the piece aired in June 1994, just shy of the 25th anniversary of his investiture as Prince of Wales. Charles was met with a firestorm of commentary from armchair pundits and faced criticism across the board. Regrettably, nearly all mention of The Prince’s Trust – a fine institution, and the overriding subject of the documentary as it was originally proposed – was lost in the scandal.
Combustible as the Morton book and Dimbleby interview had been, down in the press office, we couldn’t help but believe that all of Charles and Diana’s ‘dirty laundry’ had finally been aired, and that some sense of normality could one again be established within the Royal Household. We could not have been more wrong.
On 20th November, 1995 (the Queen and Prince Philip’s 48th wedding anniversary), Diana – ever eager to have the last word – fired a final shot, appearing in a televised tell-all interview with Martin Bashir for the BBC’s news magazine programme Panorama.
As was the Princess’s intention, neither the Press Office nor the Royal Household at large knew anything about the interview prior to its airing. Only Patrick Jephson, the Princess’s private secretary, had received any hint. Diana had indicated to him that she had done the interview, but revealed nothing about its contents, telling him only, ‘Don’t worry, everything will be all right.’
The BBC was positively covert in keeping the programme under wraps, which only served to ensure a vast viewing audience. Not even Lord Hussey, chairman of the BBC Governors, knew anything about the interview beforehand. Perhaps producers had kept him in the dark because his wife, Lady Susan, served as a Lady-in-Waiting to the Queen.
Bracing for the worst, we in the press office crowded around the television in Charles Anson’s office to watch the broadcast. Most of the press and private secretaries were there, around six of us in total. With the exception of the occasional sharp intake of breath, we watched the interview unfold with silent, rapt attention.
Diana withheld nothing.
‘There were three of us in this marriage,’ she told Bashir, ‘so it was a bit crowded.’ She went on to admit that she’d been in love with James Hewitt, and confirmed that she had been unfaithful to the Prince.
Diana would later confide to friends that she regretted doing the interview. The consequences were entirely as I had expected. The media simply couldn’t get enough of it, splashing her face on magazine covers around the world and filling airwaves with provocative sound bites. Through it all, Diana somehow managed to conduct business as usual. Three days after the Panorama interview aired, she left without a backward glance for an official visit to Argentina with her private secretary. The inevitable fallout was left for those back home to deal with…although not all of them did.
Geoff Crawford, Diana’s press secretary, resigned immediately. Her Private Secretary, Patrick Jephson, followed soon after, handing in his notice upon their return from South America. Both men cited a lack of trust as the basis for their resignation, claiming that if she couldn’t take them into her confidence, then there was no point in continuing a working relationship that necessitated a close, personal level of communication.
Admittedly, I too was displeased by Diana’s actions, believing that in many respects it reflected a monumental lack of judgment. I was also dismayed that people who perhaps didn’t have her best interests at heart had managed to talk her into doing something so damning.
And it wasn’t just she who had been affected. The institution of the Monarchy, her extended family and, most importantly, her children, were also made to answer for the Princess’s transgressions. Indeed, as one reporter put it, her interview had, ‘plunged the Monarchy into the greatest crisis since the Abdication.’
It must be said that I was also deeply saddened by what I saw and heard in the Panorama piece. I knew from experience how difficult a crumbling marriage could be. It is something I can’t imagine having to endure under a global spotlight. Granted, Diana delivered a masterful performance, but I also couldn’t help but be moved by the authentic vulnerability and pain exhibited throughout the interview. At the end of the day, the woman who had sat down with Martin Bashir was a devoted young mother who had suffered the prolonged and heartbreaking disintegration of her marriage, and who now seemed to be, above all, lonely.
Meanwhile, much of my own attention was turned to the issues of the Palace’s non-human assets, which certainly made for a more harmonious workday. My main concern at the time was overseeing the filming of the on-going restoration at Windsor Castle, with the in-house television crew gathering footage several times a week to document the progress.
I also kept a close eye on the restoration itself, conferring with the specialists involved to ensure that the project continued to run smoothly. As chairman of the restoration committee, the Duke of Edinburgh was a regular visitor to the work site, and we spoke frequently. Very much hands-on, Prince Philip was chiefly responsible for the design of the new stained glass window that was to be installed in the chapel.
I enjoyed being so involved in the Windsor restoration project, but other royal assets also commanded my attention. One such asset was the Royal Collection of fine art. Spread throughout
the various palaces, and having been amassed over centuries from artists spanning the globe, it is the largest and most famous private collection of artworks in the world.
There is estimated to be over a million separate items in the Royal Collection, and the Queen takes her role as its custodian very seriously. She has lived with it for 88 years, and as a result has a deep respect for every piece. While she is not an art historian, she is extremely well educated about a significant number of the items. In terms of inventory, she knows that there are 3,000 objects on permanent loan to museums and galleries in the UK; she knows where the majority of the paintings within the collection are on display, and if a particular painting is missing from its usual spot, she will notice immediately. She has a very good sense of what is included in the Royal Archives and the Royal Library at Windsor, and she could tell you all about the object that decorate the State Banquet table.
In terms of artistic theory and appreciation, Her Majesty can hold her own with anyone, possessing an almost encyclopedic knowledge about a number of different art forms and techniques.
Contrary to popular belief, the Queen does not own the Collection; she holds it in trust for her successors and the nation, which is why so much of it is on public display in all of the royal palaces, as well as in museums and galleries. Because she doesn’t own any of the pieces, she can’t sell any of them.
Towards the end of 1995, it was decided that a number of paintings from the collection would be sent on an overseas tour to New Zealand, Australia and Canada the following January. Some 30 paintings were chosen, all of them priceless, by such notable artists as Van Dyck, Rembrandt, Stubbs, Winterhalters and Agasse.
The National Gallery of Australia suggested that a knowledgeable representative accompany the paintings in order to speak about them while they were on display. It was agreed, as I had broadcast experience, and might therefore have the necessary tools to avoid boring the pants off of viewers with a slew of curatorial jargon, that I was the obvious choice to send.
On Duty With the Queen: My Time as a Buckingham Palace Press Secretary Page 12
