Anyone Can Be Lonely

In the London suburb of St. Albans one afternoon last week, a spry, retired accountant named Robert Turner, 70, tucked a notebook into his pocket and set out on a special call. In an hour's visit with Retired Clerk Leslie Wilson, Turner chatted about old times and admired the abstract paintings that Wilson does as a hobby. When he got home, Turner wrote a short report of the visit, mailed it off to the London offices of Unilever Ltd., for which both men once worked.

Ex-Accountant Turner is part of a modest but highly effective organization through which Unilever, the world's sixth largest industrial complex, strives to brighten the lives of 15,000 retired employees in Britain. Unilever's Pensioners' Welfare Organization grew accidentally out of Britain's withholding tax. Writing its retired employees in 1944 to explain the new tax, the company got back what one official describes as "a shoal of letters" that had little to do with taxes. An elderly lady wrote a four-page note that ended, "I don't know why I've written all this. I just wanted someone to talk to." Deciding that other retired employees or their widows might want someone to talk to, Unilever established a special department with a fulltime staff of six, and signed up 266 unpaid volunteer visitors from among its pensioners.

The visitors are mostly retired salesmen, since they are considered most experienced at making friendships. Volunteers try to visit from 15 to 20 people at least twice a year, often take their wives along on the theory that women can spot problems that a pensioner may be too shy to talk about. At a cost of about $11,000 a year, Unilever reimburses visitors for their travel expenses and for the modest birthday or anniversary presents that each visitor is encouraged to give to the pensioners on his list. The only gift barred is cash. "Money may give the impression of charity," says a Unilever executive, "which is an impression we very much want to avoid."

Most pensioners on the Unilever visiting list held modest jobs in their days with the company, but any retired employee is visited if he wants to be. One newly named visitor, a retired secretary, discovered with apprehension that on her list was the name of a former Unilever director. Bravely bearding her man in his London hotel suite, the visitor to her astonishment was warmly welcomed and persuaded to stay for lunch. Says Unilever Pensions Officer Philip Clemow: "Senior people frequently are just as pleased to have someone take notice of them as those who were in junior jobs. Anyone can be lonely."

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