HRH Prince William and Kate Middleton

Me and the Duke of Windsor

By: Charles Giuliano - Apr 24, 2011

OMG

Just days from the wedding of HRH Prince William and Kate Middleton.

So much to do in such little time.

What to wear. Or serve.

Hunkered down all day in front of the tellie.

Considered being there. Among the throngs of delirious well wishers.

Sucking up souvenirs. Priceless heirlooms to pass along to the grand children. Investments for their college education. Royal mugs one day bringing a fortune on E Bay.

Like Charles and Diana.

The Spencers, William’s Mom's family, will be seated with Kate’s, the Middletons, on one side of the choir in the Abbey. The Windsors, the family of William's Dad, on the other.

Actually, the Windsors are really Hanovers.

Germans.

Descended from George 1 of Hanover.

Invited by Parliament to be Monarch of The United Kingdom.

The Stuarts petered out without issue.

George, it seems, a petty prince of the city of Hanover, was sortah related to the Stuarts.

At the age of 54, after the death of Queen Anne of Great Britain, George ascended the British throne as the first monarch of the House of Hanover. Although over fifty Catholics bore closer blood relationships to Anne, the Act of Settlement 1701 prohibited Catholics from inheriting the British throne.

George, however, was Anne's closest living Protestant relative. In reaction, the Jacobites attempted to depose George and replace him with Anne's Catholic half-brother, James Francis Edward Stuart, but their attempts failed.

There had been William of the House of Orange somewhat earlier.

The Royals had problems popping out the kids.

Which will be main task of Kate and Willie once they are hitched.

If they haven’t started already. They have their work cut out for them.

Ms. Middleton, as she is known for the next few days, is viewed as fine British breeding stock. Healthy genes. Not like the hemophiliac Hapsburgs. Passed through the females.

Like Queen Victoria.

From whose blood line issued George V of Great Britain, Kaiser Wilhelm 1, of Germany and Czar Nicholas Alexander 1, of Russia. All cousins.

A bit of an embarrassment during WWI that the Brit Royals, the Hanovers, were at War with cousin Wilhelm. And what to do about cousin Nicky who eventually got offed by the Bolsheviks.

The  British Royals did the right thing and changed the family name to Windsor.

The peerage title Duke of Windsor was created in the Peerage of the United Kingdom in 1937 for Prince Edward, the former King of the United Kingdom and the Commonwealth realms, after he abdicated the throne. The dukedom takes its name from the town where Windsor Castle, a residence of English monarchs since the Norman Conquest, is situated. Windsor had been the surname of the Royal Family since 1917.

Which is where I come in.

My first ever interview was with the abdicated King. It was 1947 and I was just seven.

We were in New York for a few days, staying at the Waldorf Astoria. It was one of those glorious spring vacations with Mom, sister Josephine, and travel companion, Alice Moran. It was the first voyage of the S.S. Brazil after the War. We were headed for a cruise of the Caribbean.

But first a few nights of NY dining and theatre.

The evening started at Mama Leone’s then the most famous Italian restaurant in Manhattan.

The space was vast and for a little shaver the menu was huge.

Without even asking the waiter placed an enormous antipasto on the table, in a bed of ice, celery stalks, olives, cheese and salami.

You could have whatever you wanted. Mom was such a sport. It was always such fun to travel with her. Everything was first class.

On the menu I spotted Lobster Fra Diavolo. Didn’t know what it was. Just that I loved lobster. Still do.

A fatal mistake.

It came in a rich red sauce. Followed by a cannoli. Of course.

I said “Mom, I don’t feel so good.”

She grabbed my hand and we raced to the bathroom.

But not in time.

My projectile vomit wiped out a table of diners as we streaked by.

Later on the street I was all for calling it a night and heading back to the hotel.

Mom, a physician, insisted that I would be just fine and take deep breaths.

We had tickets, the best of course, for Brigadoon, the hit musical of the season. With men wearing skirts which I thought rather odd. And doing sword dances which the next day I drew into my scrap book using the free pen and ink the hotel provided.

As we settled into our seats Mom spotted them. Just across the aisle.

The Duke and Duchess of Windsor.

Mom gave me a pen and the playbill with the instructions “See that man over there? Take this and ask him for his autograph.”

Of course I didn’t want to do it. Hardly knew the guy. Perfect stranger.

But I always did what Mom asked.

With trepidation I approached.

He was a few seats in. I remember his tie had a big knot. There were women to the left and right of him. Gorgeous women in evening gowns. They looked so rich and thin. The women were all smiling and seemed to be amused and adore me. I was so sweet, innocent and cute.

The Duke, however, was not smiling.

“Please sir, may I have your autograph” I said thrusting forward the pen and program.

The ladies looked with curiosity for his royal response.

With a frosty, withering, imperious tone he said “If you wish to have my autograph come tomorrow to my suite at the Waldorf Astoria.”

It was disappointing but seemed to be a good plan.

We were staying at the same hotel.

When I returned empty handed Mom asked “What did he say?”

It’s simple I explained “I’m invited tomorrow to his suite in the Waldorf Astoria.”

There to have cookies and cake with a nice little chat surrounded by rich, thin women.

“No you’re not” she said. Not explaining why.

Of course I was terribly disappointed. I had been so excited at the prospect of hanging out with the Duke. He was, after all, the first ex King of England I had ever met.

There would be more royalty over the years.

Like hanging with Duke Ellington in his suite at the Hotel Eliot.

Now that was an audience with real royalty.

Of course, with time, the more we learned more about the Duke of Windsor and the “woman he loved” Wallis, Duchess of Windsor (born Bessie Wallis Warfield, later Spencer, then Simpson; (19 June 1896 – 24 April 1986), the less there is to like about them.

As was conveyed most vividly in the Oscar winning film The King’s Speech.

Oh well.

Truth is, here we go, the Duke of Windsor was a royal pain.