That Old Magic

Paris taxi drivers had only one question for their U.S. passengers: "How is General Ike?" The people of Western Europe had awaited Ike's arrival half in dread, fearful that illness had drained his vitality and transformed the buoyant commander of World War II into a tired old man. But as the President of the U.S. plunged eagerly into a hectic round of private talks and public appearances, fear gave way to reassurance. "Ike's smile," reported Paris' Journal du Dimanche, "has again played its magic role."

Only on the first day of the meeting did Ike show any inclination to husband his energy. When the second of the day's two conference sessions ran past 8 o'clock, he begged off attending a black-tie dinner given by NATO Secretary-General Paul-Henri Spaak. Rumors that the President was ill promptly swept through the press corps. Grinned Ike: "Tell those gentlemen I am a 9:30 or 10 o'clock boy tonight."

Special Sickness. Next day, as if determined to convince the newsmen that their fears were groundless, Ike took on a jampacked schedule. In the morning he drove out to suburban Rocquencourt to visit SHAPE--the NATO military headquarters which he established in 1951. Ignoring the freezing wind, Ike stood at salute through the Marseillaise and The Star-Spangled Banner, then set off on a tour of the headquarters with U.S. General Lauris Norstad. the man who now holds his old job as SACEUR (Supreme Allied Commander Europe). After a quick look at the office that he left in 1952 to campaign for the presidency, Ike dropped into the officers' mess, sipped at a martini proffered by Norstad with the rueful comment: "It's been many a year since I had one."

As the time approached for his return to Paris, Ike's nostalgia bubbled over in an off-the-cuff speech to a small crowd of SHAPE personnel and their families. Said he: "I came out here because of a special kind of sickness, one that afflicts the aged and the young--homesickness. I must acknowledge that after 40 years of wearing a uniform it would be strange if I felt quite as natural with my civilian hat as I did with my military cap. And I want to indulge for just a moment this feeling of homesickness, the fun of going and seeing some of the people of SHAPE [who are] carrying the same mission, doing the same job that all of us started in 1951 ... To all of you, greetings, good wishes, good luck, and I hope that your homes are warm and nice, and the kids in good health and everything is going fine with all of you--from whatever nation you are."

Pleas in Private. But for most of his stay in Paris, the President was immersed in the problems of the present. He had already conferred privately with British Prime Minister Harold Macmillan. France's Felix Gaillard had called to tell the President that practically every Frenchman is convinced that the U.S. has covert designs on North Africa, particularly on the Sahara's oil. Shocked, Ike told Gaillard emphatically that the U.S. had no intention of supplanting French interests in North Africa, or of interfering in the war in Algeria.

Italy's Adone Zoli came to present a renewed plea for the Italian scheme to set up a U.S.-Western European economic-aid program for the Middle East (TIME, Dec. 16). Hot on Zoli's heels came West German Chancellor Konrad Adenauer. After 40 minutes alone with Ike, Adenauer emerged remarking on the President's appearance -- "He looks very healthy, very sturdy and very relaxed."

Just how crucial Ike's health was to NATO morale was demonstrated again that evening. Secretary Dulles had advised him that the evening session would be a routine drafting session, which most heads of government would probably skip, and Dulles suggested Ike could skip it too. But when the news reached the Palais de Chaillot that Ike was not coming, consternation swept the meeting. Quickly, Dulles put in a call to the U.S. residency, told Ike that the other heads of government were there, and that there was a feeling of deep concern. Without more ado, Ike clapped on his hat, climbed into his car, and with ten motorcycle policemen leading the way, sped to the Palais. Shortly after he arrived, 42 minutes late, he got the welcome news that the Atlas ICBM had been fired successfully.

Next day came yet another round of talks--this time with Greek Premier Constantine Karamanlis and Turkey's Adnan Menderes. Menderes. whose country is in serious economic straits, came away "very happy--very happy indeed" over what he interpreted as assurances that the Baghdad Pact countries, including Turkey, could count on increased military and economic assistance from the U.S. But neither in the talks with Ike nor in their subsequent luncheon with British Foreign Secretary Selwyn Lloyd and NATO's Paul-Henri Spaak did Menderes and Karamanlis come to grips with the Cyprus quarrel that has set their countries at daggers drawn, gravely damaged NATO's potential effectiveness in the eastern Mediterranean.

"Forever Glorious." Along with the political consultations came the inescapable demands of international conviviality. At the social climax of the conference, French President Rene Coty's dinner at the Elysee Palace, Ike appeared resplendent in midnight-blue tails, the red breast ribbon of the Legion of Honor and France's highest decoration for soldiers, the Medaille Militaire. Sitting next to Coty's English-speaking daughter Genevieve Egloff, the only woman among 167 men, Ike heard himself toasted as "a chief forever glorious," chatted with animation until nearly eleven o'clock. Shortly after noon the next day he showed up again at the palace for luncheon. This time, as he began to doff his coat in the chilly foyer, Coty admonished him: "No, no. Don't take your coat off here. It's cold." A determined smile came over the Eisenhower visage. "Thank you, Mr. President." said Ike, taking off his coat. "I'm all right."

"A Little Closer." On the last day, with the work of the conference over, Ike took time off to accept from the century-old French Farmers' Association a medal honoring him as "President of the U.S., liberator of French soil, and Gettysburg farmer" and to chat knowingly about the usefulness of Holstein cows in nursing black Aberdeen Angus calves. A few hours later, as the Paris dusk turned to dark, the President drove out to Orly Field. Along the route people stood two and three deep; passengers left their buses for a look and a farewell cheer.

At the airport, French and U.S. officialdom led by Coty and Norstad had assembled to say goodbye. Overcoat unbuttoned, hair windblown, Ike abandoned a prepared statement to declare simply that he always felt sadness when it came time to say goodbye to Paris and the French. "Over the past few days my associates and I have worked very hard for the ideal of peace ... I think we are just a little bit closer to that ideal, and I think this group has done a lot to make the chances of war a little more remote."

Deeply affected, Rene Coty wrung Ike's hand and said: "I thank you. I thank you very much." Then, as the raised sabers of France's Garde Republicaine flashed under the floodlights, the President of the U.S. threw his arms wide in farewell and embarked on the long flight home.

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