Abroad for Her Country: Tales of a Pioneer Woman Ambassador in the U.S. Foreign Service

Milan, Italy, 1949–51 (Vice Consul)

Four Milan, Italy, 1949–51 (Vice Consul) Having left Bogotá some months short of a full tour because of health problems, I returned to Washington for a full medical checkup, rest, and recuperation. It took less time than I’d feared, and before long I received the long-dreamed-of assignment—Europe. My new posting was to Milan, Italy’s financial and commercial capital, which fit well with the training and professional experience I had gained in my first two posts, especially Colombia. Milan was landlocked—subject only to blinding fogs in the damp winter months—with no maritime problems or riot potential to cope with as in Bogotá! The closest water was Lake Como, one of several beautiful northern Italian lakes with any number of adjacent recreational opportunities of which I soon availed myself, from golf to skiing. The Italian assignment required a language shift from Spanish to Italian, so I was detailed to training at the Foreign Service Institute in Washington before I could set sail for Europe and become conversational beyond the basics of classroom exchanges. For the first time in my life I boarded an ocean liner, the SS Saturnia, an Italian merchant ship. My mother came up to New York from Florida to see me off on my Atlantic crossing, a first in the family, though a cousin 71 had done “the big pond” to Ireland before I was born. My mother and I had a pleasant overnight at the Waldorf Astoria Hotel and some sightseeing before taxiing the next day over to the docks on New York’s West Side. The Saturnia was modest in size, accommodations hardly luxurious or even comfortable. Four women government employees bound for European assignments were crowded into one, closet-sized cabin with four bunk beds. Being tall, I was given one of the two uppers. Except for sleep I stayed far away from our tiny cabin as long as possible for fear of claustrophobia . We had to take turns changing clothes in the tight quarters. There were clearly tradeoffs to this prisonlike, shipboard existence. My first taste of “real” Italian food came aboard the Saturnia, and it was addiction at first tasting. Nor had I ever before been offered wine for both lunch and dinner. I tried to restrict my wine consumption to one small glass in the evening, as I was prone to vertigo and never had been a good sailor. Since my introduction to cucina Italiana, I have seldom been without garlic, tomatoes, and basil in my home, growing the basil in my kitchen window or on the apartment balcony. Another new experience offered on board the Saturnia was finding myself amid a heavy concentration of Italian males and learning to cope with the new cultural challenges they presented. I would not—I vowed— allow myself to be swept off my feet by the toothy smiles, affectionate glances, little pats, and soft words of endearment that never ceased. As a young American in her twenties, I probably should have been flattered. But being from the north woods of Wisconsin, it was not something with which I was really comfortable. I kept reminding myself that I had managed to hold my own in one Latin environment (Colombia) and could do it again—that is, unless and until something really touched my heart and mind and promised durability. I learned something else aboard the SS Saturnia. Although I was only a low-ranking U.S. vice consul at the time, it was customary for any U.S. government official to be treated with deference by ships’ captains at sea. Or at least it was in those days. I drew the captain’s table and, somewhat out of character, did little talking. I just smiled and enjoyed the food, which must have intrigued my host. On the second day at sea, as dinner was ending, the captain inquired if I would like to go up to his quarters for a digestivo, which when explained Milan, Italy, 1949–51 72 sounded quite harmless. But rather than take a chance, I quickly signaled to one of my cabin mates seated at the next table while simultaneously telling the captain that I knew one of my friends would also enjoy seeing his quarters. She was smiling sweetly at his side before he had time to answer. Rising to the occasion, he took both of us by the arm, gallantly...