The Trains Run Both Ways

Prior to the French National Assembly elections held on March 11, 1973, a Leftist coalition placed Honeywell Bull on its list of companies to be nationalized if it took power. Honeywell owned 66% of Honeywell Bull, headquartered in Paris. Honeywell's computer operations in European countries other than France were contained within wholly owned subsidiaries of Honeywell Bull. Clancy Spangle asked me how we might insulate these subsidiaries from the effects of a possible nationalization of their parent.

I arranged meetings with key European counsel to explore alternatives we might pursue to protect the subsidiaries from the reach of French nationalization. I was joined by Fred Gifford, a veteran auditor who came to Honeywell when it acquired GE's computer business in 1970. Fred was a highly competent and congenial colleague.

Dr. Westrick, German counsel, was on vacation in St. Moritz but had promised to take a day to meet me in Zurich. When I called from Zurich to confirm, he invited me to join him in St. Moritz, reasoning that "the trains run both ways" and that it was high season at St. Moritz.  I quickly accepted his invitation and took the train from Zurich to St. Moritz, accompanied by Fred.

I recall awakening the morning of our departure to a beautiful snowfall.  Fred and I wore our business suits and overcoats and were each carrying a briefcase. As the train made its way through the mountains to St. Moritz, we became the only passengers not dressed in ski attire.  Upon arrival, we were met by a Swiss gentleman in a long coat and fur hat driving a large Chrysler.  He informed us that Dr. Westrick was awaiting us for lunch.  Fred and I took our places in the rear of the Chrysler looking forward to dining at a local restaurant.

The Chrysler stopped and the driver opened the door and motioned for us to go through an entryway.  Still engrossed in our conversation, we stepped through a doorway onto a platform encased in glass.  Not being a skier, I had no idea where we were. The others on the platform all had skis.  We had our briefcases.

Suddenly the platform started to move and we realized that we were in a gondola headed for the slopes, which was no place for a couple of Americans in their business suits.  We exited the gondola at its first stop where we met Dr. Westrick who was awaiting us clothed in the finest ski apparel. He was youthful, spoke excellent English and looked at home in St. Moritz. He invited us to join him for an outdoor apres ski lunch among the skiers.  There was no one carrying a briefcase in either the buffet line or anywhere else in St. Moritz. 

Following our luncheon meeting, Fred and I allowed Dr. Westrick to return to his skiing, while we went to the Palace Hotel to view the local scene. We again were the only people in business attire.  The elite of Europe were present in full force.  While we were enjoying our drinks, the otherwise blasé staff became highly energized while heading towards the entryway to greet an arriving entourage.  The entourage was led by a beautiful woman, followed by her husband, the Shah of Iran. As they proceeded through the lobby, the staff walked backwards on either side of them, intermittently bowing.  The Shah was at the peak of his reign.  Six years later he would suffer a precipitous fall.

Dr. Westrick had graciously arranged for rooms for us at the Waldhaus Hotel where he was staying. Following the Palace cocktail hour, we met Dr. Westrick at the Waldhaus for further discussions followed by a very pleasant dinner.  Shortly after dessert, the band stopped playing and all the dinner guests engaged in various contests. By then I had gotten over my discomfort at not conforming to the dress code and enthusiastically joined in the amusement.  I received a round of good-natured applause and a small prize when I won an event that required sliding a plate toward a target across the dance floor. Though I visited Zurich again, I never had occasion to return to St. Moritz.