Prince Charles and the Final, but Best, Squeeze

I arrived at the office a little earlier than usual because Lyn and I had been invited to a reception that afternoon hosted by the Prince of Wales at Highgrove, his family residence (and, now, the home of the Duchess of Cornwall). I had barely settled at my desk when my phone rang. A woman from our law staff proceeded with what sounded like a recorded message. “I understand that you and Mrs. Groome will be meeting with His Royal Highness at an event for the Macmillan nurses today.”

I said we were.

“I’m sure it goes without saying that Mrs. Groome shouldn’t mention her profession to HRH.”

I assured her that Lyn had no intention of telling Prince Charles that she was a marriage and family therapist.

“Very good, sir. One other point, if I may. When you are introduced to HRH, you should address him as ‘Your Royal Highness.’ After that, you may address him as ‘Sir.’”

I said I appreciated the advice, that I’d pass it on to Lyn.

“Very good, sir, and enjoy the gardens. I’m told they’re smashing.”

Once through thorough security, Lyn and I joined the other guests who stood in a circle in knots of three or four. Because we didn’t know a soul, we stood off to one side. Finally, Prince Charles arrived, and his equerry presented each group to him, the introductions followed by a brief conversation. When our turn came, I was introduced as “Mr. Groome, from SmithKline Beecham” and Lyn as “Mrs. Groome.” After a formal greeting and handshake from me, HRH turned to Lyn and said, “Ah, yes, Mrs. Groome, the psychologist.”

Lyn and I were both “back footed,” as the Brits like to say, but I guess when you’re next in line to be the King of the United Kingdom and fifteen other Commonwealth realms, you know a lot of stuff that people wouldn’t think you’d know.

I struggled to change the subject and mentioned that I held HRH’s Royal Warrant for Macleans toothpaste.

A few words here about Royal Warrants. They are recognition for those who supply goods or services to the Households of The Queen, The Duke of Edinburgh, and The Prince of Wales. I had been granted two, the Macleans warrant and one from The Queen for Lucozade, originally an energy drink for the sick. I should make it very clear that they aren’t awarded to an individual on merit or influence. They are granted to a specified position in each company, and I happened to have been assigned to that job. With approximately 55,000 other jobs in SmithKline Beecham, it was like winning a lottery with 55,000 to one odds.

The warrant for Lucozade that sits on my desk as I write this should give you a pretty good idea of how seriously the monarchy takes the concept: This Warrant is granted to Harry Connelly Groome Esquire trading under the title stated above and empowers the holder to display the Royal Arms in connection with the Business but does not carry the right to make use of the Arms as a flag or trademark. The Warrant is strictly personal to the Holder and will become void and must be returned to the Lord Chamberlain in any of the circumstances specified when it is granted.

Given under my hand and Seal this Eighteenth day of May 1993 in the forty second Year of Her Majesty’s Reign.

Lord Chamberlain

But back to His Royal Highness. I reminded him that we stopped the manufacture of Macleans in plastic tubes once a year to run a small batch in aluminum tubes to satisfy his preference. He appeared embarrassed that I knew of this practice, and as a reward (I guess), he invited Lyn and me and three or four other attendees to tour his gardens.

As we strolled through the gardens, talk of psychologists and Royal Warrants was abandoned as HRH proudly discussed the effort he’d put into his gardens, and rightfully so. They were, as advertised in my morning call from the law department, smashing.

Shortly after a visit by our friends Anne and John Mullen, to whom I had described the meeting with Prince Charles in excruciating detail, a small package arrived from their address in Dallas. It was a sterling silver toothpaste tube roller-upper that Anne had discovered at Neiman Marcus, and in her note, she suggested that it would be a perfect gift for HRH.

My correspondence with Prince Charles follows:

TO HRH, THE PRINCE OF WALES

December 6, 1993

Sir,

As we discussed at Highgrove last May, when I had the honour of meeting you at the Macmillan Fund reception, I am the person who oversees your Royal Warrant for Macleans toothpaste and your special supply of aluminium tubes. As a result of our conversation, I thought of you when I came upon the enclosed. It is a sterling silver toothpaste tube “roller-upper” which is designed for metal tubes and which I think should enhance your daily oral care programme . . . and work perfectly with your Macleans aluminium tubes.

I hope you enjoy using it as much as I have enjoyed sending it to you.

With best wishes for a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.

I have the honour to remain, Sir, Your Royal Highness’s

most humble and obedient servant,

Harry Groome

Protocol required that closing wording. As I review it now, I think “As ever” would have sufficed.

Here’s the final exchange with Belinda Harley, the Assistant Private Secretary to HRH:

December 22, 1993

Dear Mr. Groome,

I am so pleased that you are able to join us for an informal lunch party on Tuesday, January 25 at 12.30 for 1 p.m. Entrance to St. James’s Palace is via the police barrier at Cleveland Row; do ring my secretary Julia Franks if you would like to bring your car to the Palace, and she will make the necessary arrangements.

HRH has asked me to tell you that he is grateful for your present, “which allows one to obtain that final, but best, squeeze!”

Yours,

Belinda

Of course, I thought I would be dining with HRH, but no such luck. Instead, his assistant private secretary (who had her own secretary!) had assembled a small group to have lunch at St. James Palace for what reason I’ll never know, but I guess it was a gesture of thanks for some good deed. The one takeaway from that visit was that there were pictures of Princess Diana everywhere, even though their separation had been announced in the House of Commons more than a year before.

There are two endings to this story: a surprise ending for me and a rather embarrassing one for Prince Charles.

The surprise ending took place at a black-tie dinner that Prince Charles hosted for the Atlantic Salmon Trust at Apsley House, also known as Number One London. Like the reception at Highgrove, where I didn’t know any of the guests, the same was true at Apsley House. And, like the Highgrove event, the invitees formed a loosely organized circle while waiting for HRH to arrive. I was sandwiched between two very large Englishmen who quizzed me about salmon fishing in Canada and Russia. As Prince Charles approached us, he reached between the Englishmen to shake my hand and said, “Why Mr. Groome. What a pleasure to see you.” That was all he said, but it was enough for one of the Englishmen to proclaim, “I’ve lived in London for over sixty years, and he doesn’t acknowledge me but seems to know the Yank. There is definitely something wrong with this picture.”

Perhaps, I thought, if only he’d sent HRH a sterling silver toothpaste tube roller-upper…

The less flattering ending for Prince Charles appeared in an exposé of sexual intrigue in Buckingham and St. James’s Palace in one of the tabloids circa 2003. When the journalist ran out stories concerning hanky-pank, he turned to little-known details in palace life designed to further embarrass the monarchy. He concluded with the fact that The Prince of Wales’s toothpaste was squeezed from the tube using a sterling silver toothpaste tube roller-upper.

It’s a harmless little item that serves a rudimentary function and a harmless bit of trivia. But it’s a reminder of how out of touch HRH, and his peers, are with their most humble and obedient servants.