REFLECTIONS

by Katie Butler Johnson

I had dinner with the King of England!

Well, that’s really stretching it a bit. He wasn’t technically “King” at the time - just heir apparent - Prince Charles Mountbatten-Windsor.

When Prince Charles crossed the Atlantic and arrived in Dallas to present Ross Perot with the Winston Churchill Award at a formal dinner in the Chantilly Ballroom of the Anatole Hotel on February 18th 1986, my husband and I were there, dressed to the nines and seated at table #96 - just within binocular range of His Royal Highness and Mister Perot.

When news of the event reached the Dallas papers, it caused a flurry of interest and questions of why Perot was being honored.

In 1979, two of Perot’s EDS employees were political prisoners being held in Iran’s Qasr Prison. The Iranian Government demanded millions for their release. When diplomacy didn’t work to free them, Perot secretly assembled a commando team to break them out. Then he snuck into Iran HIMSELF posing as an NBC newsman and talked his way into captive employees’ cell and told them about the plan. It’s a riveting tale. You can read about It in Ken Follett’s: “On Wings of Eagles.”

Perot’s actions showed how loyal he was to his employees and how tenacious he was to do everything in his power to rescue them. That caught the eye of the Churchill Foundation. They considered Perot a man whose mantra would be the same as Churchill’s who famously said: “Never give in. Never give in. Never, never, never.”

When the Churchill Event took place in 1986, my husband was an EDS Executive. General Motors had bought EDS several years before and he’d been tasked with cobbling together a world-wide communication network for GM. That meant a move to Michigan for us and lot of travel for him.

While he was in Europe negotiating with various governmental entities for use of their telephone lines, a formal written invitation to the Winston Churchill Event arrived in our mail box in Michigan. Then I got a personal call from EDS Headquarters instructing me to wear a long dress to the event - NOT a cocktail length one.

We’d had a “bonus baby” in 1982 - a precious little bundle that was quickly morphing into this exhausting turbo-charged, perpetually-in-motion little guy we’d named Zach. He was my full-time job.

While husband was abroad hob-knobbing with parliament members and the like, I was joining preschool mom groups. My wardrobe screamed harried pre-k mom. There wasn’t a whisper of suave socialite in any of it.

Not willing to spend a fortune for a formal I’d wear just once plus the thought that I might encounter someone else wearing the same store-bought dress at the event (and her looking way better in it) led to my decision to make my own. So, It was off to the fabric store to choose a pattern and fabric just like I used to do when my two now grown daughters needed prom dresses. I got out my trusty old Singer 503 sewing machine and got to work on my Katie Original!

With the event a few days out, we flew to Dallas with our preschooler in tow and settled into a hotel. Husband’s mom entertained that 4yr old while we went to the event.

At the event, Nancy Reagen welcomed all and introduced Prince Charles. As Charles began to speak, I looked around the room and saw a mix of celebrities, politicians and just plain folks all listening attentively to every word he had to say. It was a beautifully planned and well-orchestrated evening.

At the end, there was a receiving line where we gathered to congratulate Perot and thank him for including us. (Right behind us was the actress, Morgan Fairchild, waiting to do the same.)

That wasn’t the only time we needed to thank Perot for his thoughtfulness. Perot had a way of surprising one when you least expected it. Once, out of the blue, he arranged a meeting with and lecture from Stephen Hawking who was touring the U.S. We were living in Texas at the time and Perot included us. It was a small gathering of about 40 people. Trained as a high energy particle physicist, husband finally got to meet and talk with - Hawking - a superstar in his universe.

And this time, instead of being seated miles from the speaker, I was close enough that I could have counted the freckles on Hawking’s face.