The Happy Ending

Few parents ever faced a more heartbreaking decision than that which last spring confronted Rumanian-born Valeriu Georgescu, a Standard Oil (N.J.) executive, and his wife in New York. For six years--ever since being banned from their native land by its Communist government --they had not seen their two sons. For two years the letters they hopefully addressed to the children back in Rumania had gone unanswered. But when one Christache Zambeti (TIME, June 8), first secretary of the Rumanian Popular Republic Legation in Washington, offered to release the boys if their father would become a Red spy, the Georgescus stoutly and honorably refused.

Another Kind of Fix. They also refused to give up hope. After the U.S. Government broadcast their story to the world, the Georgescus redoubled their efforts to rescue their sons. They had help. Ohio's Congresswoman Frances Bolton approached Russia's Andrei Vishinsky at a U.N. reception in New York. She got nowhere. "Oh," said Vishinsky, "Rumania is not my country." But she did not give up, took the Georgescus to see Under Secretary of State Bedell Smith. As a result, a personal letter from President Eisenhower was delivered to Rumanian Prime Minister Gheorghe Gheorghiu-Dej last February.

Back in Rumania the two boys, Constantin, now 19, and Peter, 15, were rounding out seven years of uncertain and increasingly dreary existence. They had been left with their grandparents in the village of Lipova back in 1947 when the Georgescus set out on what they believed would be a short business trip to New York. They were not molested for three years. But in 1950 their grandfather was carried off by the police. Ten months later the boys and their grandmother were put under house arrest in a dirt-floored, one-room hovel in a distant town.

As children of a "capitalist," they were refused further education, and set, under police supervision, to learning trades. In 1952 they were moved to another village, put to farm labor. But in March both the boys and their grandmother were freed and taken to Bucharest. Costa and Peter got travel certificates and were finally delivered to the U.S. legation.

"So Civilized." In little longer than the "twinkling of an eye" so popular in older fairy tales, they were in Munich, and Father Georgescu--who had been notified of their release while on a business trip to Ankara, Turkey, and had flown to meet them--was clasping them in his arms. Twenty-six hours later, after a transatlantic flight, they were hugging their pretty, 46-year-old mother in New York.

For days there was near-bedlam in the Georgescus' big, well-appointed New York apartment; the living room was banked with flowers sent by well-wishers, the telephone rang and rang, letters and telegrams poured in from all over the country. Father, mother and sons were whisked from one radio and TV station to another for guest appearances. None of them seemed to mind. The boys were amazed and delighted by New York: "So organized, so civilized." The parents were amazed and delighted by their big handsome sons.

"We want," beamed Mrs. Georgescu, "to share our joy with everyone."

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