The Ghost Goes West

Lord Inverchapel (pronounced, extraordinarily enough, in-ver-chapel) would never be taken for a precious, blue-veined Evelyn Waugh character. Inverchapel looks and acts like a real, red-blooded Scot.

As Britain's ambassador to Russia, he used to dictate reports in the Embassy backyard under Moscow's boiling summer sun, stripped to the waist. As ambassador to China, during the heaviest Japanese bombings of Chungking, he imperturbably remained in a patched-up bungalow on the blasted north bank of the Yangtze long after most other envoys had prudently moved. His combination of closemouthed diplomacy and forthright bluntness pleases (and somewhat tickles) Britons, who regard him as one of their ablest and most diligent diplomats.

Last week the remarkable Inverchapel landed at Halifax, on his way to Washington as Britain's new ambassador to the U.S. There the Scottish peer uncorked a characteristic shocker. "Cricket is a dull game," said Inverchapel gravely, "I prefer spilikins [jackstraws]." Baseball, peanuts, hot dogs and slang, he added, were more to his liking.

When he arrived in Washington, a newsman sought a pronouncement on world affairs. "You wouldn't want me to lose my job so soon, would you," countered the ambassador. "Just tell them I have a red face and a big nose. They always say that about me."

Outside the office of Secretary of State Byrnes, curious reporters made another try. Whimsically, Inverchapel explained that until he had presented his credentials to the President he was only "a ghost, an astral body." The solid ghost, with a red face and a big nose, then evaporated in the general direction of the solid and stately British Embassy on Massachusetts Avenue.

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