As promised, here is the first leg of my nostalgic stroll down Memory Lane, focusing on my decade as personal assistant, keeper of the keys, guardian of the secrets, protocol officer, comic foil, and sometimes battering ram for a man named Walter Sterling Surrey.

I’ve made a list of recollections I consider interesting enough to share, and thus far I’m up to No. 42. (In fact, I’ve already written about a few of them in the early days of this blog, but I think they may bear repeating.) So here we go . . .

It was the hardest job I ever had — and the best. Imagine trying to keep up with someone who held degrees from Yale University and University of Virginia Law School; had served in the OSS (precursor to the CIA) in Sweden during World War II; then joined the Justice Department, later moving to the State Department where — still in his early 30s — he became the chief legal draftsman of both the Marshall Plan and the NATO Treaty before settling into the private practice of international transactional law.

And he had, on top of all of his accomplishments, the world’s most wicked, irreverent, irresistible sense of humor.

Every day was a new adventure — leaving me, when it was finally over around 6:30 or 7:00 p.m., somehow both exhausted and exhilarated.

Aside from keeping Walter’s professional life running smoothly, I had other responsibilities: I interacted with his banker, investment broker, insurance agent, doctors, dentist, barber, ex-wives (2), third and final wife, and countless others.

At some point between marriages, he had gotten into the habit of keeping his financial records in the office. I hadn’t been working with him for long when one day I noticed that his checking account balance was running low. I asked him which other account he wanted to draw from to replenish it, and I happened to joke, “Jeez, my mother has more money in the bank than you do.” Without hesitating, he said, “Really? What’s her phone number?” Wrongly assuming he was bluffing, I gave him her office number, then watched in horror as he picked up the phone and began punching buttons. When she answered, he said — to this woman he had never met — “Hello, Moneybags? This is Walter.”

Mother (somewhat annoyed at being disturbed at work by some lunatic): “Walter who?”

Walter: “Walter Surrey. Your daughter tells me you have more money than I do. Want to go to Vegas?”

Well, little did he know that he had hit her soft spot — she loved gambling, and she loved Vegas! To my great surprise, she never missed a beat, but jumped right in and replied, “Is tomorrow too soon?” And thus was born “Moneybags.”

I’m not sure he ever remembered her real name, because “Moneybags” was all he ever called her. Walter and Moneybags became fast friends, despite the fact that the Las Vegas trip never materialized.

And I had learned one of the most important rules of dealing with Walter Surrey: Never assume you know what he’ll say or do next. Because, as you will see from future installments, he was, among his many exceptional attributes, wonderfully unpredictable.

Until next time, then, I am

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
8/13/26