I'm not a special friend of pretension," Walter Scheel once said. Indeed he is not. He arrived in Moscow three weeks ago wearing a rumpled sports coat, striped shirt and red tie. He puffed on his Montecristo No. 1 cigars steadily throughout the twelve days of negotiations. One night he went on a tour of Moscow nightspots, ending up at the Slavyansky Bazar, a haunt of young Russians, where he danced exuberantly with bemused Russian girls. Certainly he represents a new school of diplomacy, whose members believe in direct and candid contact. To...
To continue reading:
or
Log-In
