The royals - Kitty Kelley [1]
We exchanged more letters as I traveled back and forth between Washington, D.C., and London to do research. In 1995 I was in England for the commemoration of V-E Day, May 8—the day in 1945 when the Allies announced the surrender of German forces in Europe. Again I contacted the Palace with more questions and renewed my request for interviews. On this visit I spoke with Mr. Anson on the phone.
We discussed the stirring ceremonies that had been staged to celebrate the fiftieth anniversary of victory over Nazi Germany. We talked about the moving scene of the previous day, when the ninety-five-year-old Queen Mother stepped onto the balcony of Buckingham Palace to wave to the fifty thousand people assembled below. Fifty years earlier she had stood in the same place to accept the tribute of a grateful nation. Then, as now, she was flanked by her two daughters. But missing from the historical tableau in 1995 were her husband, King George VI, and his Prime Minister, Winston Churchill, both of whom had stood beside her in 1945. Still, the sight of her on the balcony reminded everyone of Britain’s indomitable spirit during the war.
“These sorts of occasions,” the Queen’s press secretary told me, “are very unifying for the country…. They show that the monarchy is an arrangement that suits the British people….”
After I returned to Washington, D.C., to begin writing the book, Mr. Anson did not answer any more questions. He seemed concerned that I might be misinterpreting his cooperation so I could market my book as an authorized biography. He need not have worried. But he conveyed his anxiety to a reporter from the royal family’s favorite newspaper, the Daily Telegraph, which headlined its story “Palace Alarm over U.S. Book on the Queen.”
The Palace press secretary was quoted in the story as saying: “Ms. Kelley has not been given any special cooperation, nor will she be. We have answered one or two factual questions put to us, as we do with any author writing on the royal household. This does not denote any special access.”
Days later I received my last letter from Charles Anson. “I should emphasise at this point,” he wrote, “that if the limited help we have given is misrepresented in any way in future, we will consider taking appropriate action.“ This, too, was reported in the British press. The Guardian’s story—“Action Stations at the Palace”—ran under a cartoon of two corgis guarding the Buckingham Palace kennels. With bared teeth, one dog growled: “Kitty! Grrrr… Even the name makes me angry.”
Despite the well-publicized warning from the Queen’s press secretary, I have been able to interview several hundred people over the last four years, many of whom are current or former members of the royal household. Because I never pay for information, I gave no one money, but I did guarantee confidentiality to those who feared retaliation from the Palace. Most members of the royal household sign confidentiality agreements when they are hired, so I knew they took great risks in speaking to me. If identified, those in royal service could lose their jobs; those retired could lose their pensions. Charles Anson had made the point in one of his earlier letters to me: “We take very seriously here any breach of confidentiality or of the undertakings given, for example, by employees of the Royal Household concerning their employment with the Royal Family.”
Yet with the unattributed help of many people, including past and present employees, friends, and relatives, I was able to get an inside look at the British royal family and how they live. I started at Kensington Palace, a few miles from Buckingham Palace in the heart of London.
During a time when Princess Margaret was traveling abroad, a member of her staff, whom I already knew, offered me a