Robert and I hiked down to the entrance at Balmoral Road. It was a sunny afternoon in Scotland. Cattle were grazing in the fields. We could spot castle turrets down the road. We posted ourselves and waited. We kept a constant watch on the road coming from the South. (The Queen would travel from London to Edinburgh by train, then travel to the Castle in her Rolls Royce Limousine.) Her train had been in Edinburgh on schedule that beautiful May 1953 sunny afternoon. Near three o’clock we caught sight of two large black cars a mile away. The cars had to be the Queen’s. We kept our eyes on the vehicles, and our gazing paid dividends.
The black limousines approached the Balmoral Road. The first car turned in; it bore License Plate No. 1. Robert and I stepped as close to the passing vehicles as we considered appropriate. We did not want to arouse suspicion of us as either Paparazzi in disguise, or roadside bombers. The auto slowed down, the horn blew, and a lady wearing a hat started waving. The lady was Queen Elizabeth. We presumed that the woman beside her was either Princess Margaret or the Queen’s Lady-in-Waiting. Both Robert and I gestured politely, snapped as many photos as we could, snapping even after the Queen’s limousine had gone by and the second car approached, probably bearing Prince Philip or other members of the Royal family. We had concentrated so intently on the first limousine that the second one drove by before we had thoroughly investigated it. Thus, we could not identify the passengers. We speculated that one of them could have been Prince Philip. However, the Queen of Great Britain of the United Kingdom had greeted us!
When the cars had disappeared into the trees that surrounded the Castle and its environs, we left the scene, returned to the store for a cold soda and listened to some Royal anecdotes told by the Store operator. Both Robert and I had twice before seen the Queen: once before when she had come to Edinburgh for the marriage of the Earl of Dalkeith, along with several members of her family. The ceremony had taken place at St. Giles Cathedral. Rumor circulated that the Earl had once dated the Queen. We were amused at the Edinburgh folk who had carried ladders to the Church environs. When the royal and wedding parties were arriving, the ladders were opened and placed in polite locations. I said to myself, “The next time….”
After finishing our sodas, we headed back to the highway and stuck up our thumbs. Amazing hitchhiking luck complemented our excitement over our close-up encounter with the Queen. It proved to be the closest connection to Royalty that I had ever had, or would ever have. We felt privileged to have shot some close-up photos. We hoped that they would serve as proof that we had been at Balmoral and had seen the Queen. We could hardly contain ourselves with anticipation. Robert turned to me and asked, “Well, Vern, what does it feel like being a Paparazzo?” I responded: “Probably the same way it feels to you, Robert! Except you have the black hair to go with it!”
Once developed, the photos pasted a sheath of comedy on our experience. Since my days in Edinburgh were soon to end, I took the film with me to have it developed on the Continent. I located a fast but expensive developing service in Paris. Otherwise, the film could not be processed until I arrived back in the U.S.A., probably two months into the future. I was excited to see the results. I paid the price and had them developed. What a disappointment, considering how much the developing cost me! The shot with the car closest to Robert and me had been taken so fast that the camera had caught only the back end of the Rolls Royce, a faint glimpse of Queen Elizabeth, and five cows on the other side of the lane, their heads sticking through the fence. Well, after all, Elizabeth was their Queen, too. Like Ms. McGuigan’s comment about the Elgin Marbles, the cows were British, and Great Britain belongs to the United Nations, so “they belong to everyone.” Good Global logic, eh?
