Not that I’m a name-dropper or anything, but the recent visit to Charleston by a number of Serbian judges to learn about our state and federal judicial systems recalled to me my visit with Crown Prince Alexander II of Serbia.
Serbia (officially “The Republic of Serbia”) is, as virtually every West Virginian knows, the crossroads of Central and Southeast Europe bordered by Hungary, Romania, Bulgaria, and a bunch of other countries. Its capital, Belgrade, lies at the confluence of the Danube and Save Rivers and is one of the oldest cities in Europe with a population of about 1.7 million people.
My wife, Amy, and I were on a boat trip down the Danube with our good friends, Roberta and Rhett McGregor. Roberta is an Anstead girl and a classmate of my wife’s from WVU School of Dentistry. She and her husband, Rhett, are good friends with whom we have traveled many places for many years.
When the boat put in at Belgrade for a day, one of the tours available was of the Royal Palace of the Serbian monarchy. Rhett and I decided to go while our wives (big shock coming here!) decided they would rather go shopping.
Rhett and I proceeded to the Royal Palace which was quite a place. It was surrounded by pergolas, park terraces, swimming pools, pavilions and platforms. There are magnificent views from almost any part of the Palace. The most impressive thing to me was that the Palace was built with the private funds of King Alexander I, the grandfather of the current Crown Prince. You have to hand it to the Serbs. In the U.S., the politicians build magnificent edifices to themselves and stick the taxpayers with the bill.
As Rhett and I wandered around viewing the medieval frescoes, the Renaissance style wood carved ceilings and bronze chandeliers, and the paintings of old masters under the watchful gaze of dark-suited bulky types wearing earpieces, a uniformed attendant slid unctuously up and said, “His Royal Highness is in residence and would like to meet you.” Rhett and I looked at each other and said, “OK”. (We didn’t want to appear snobbish.)
We were escorted into a large and lavishly appointed conference room and introduced to His Royal Highness, Crown Prince Alexander II, the next king of Serbia (if there is one) and his wife, Her Royal Highness, Princess Katherine. The Crown Prince was a handsome 60ish gentleman in an elegantly-tailored Saville Row suit and the Princess was an attractive lady of Greek extraction who met the Prince in, of all places, Washington, D.C. The Prince (no mean name-dropper himself) explained that he had just returned from London where he attended the Diamond Jubilee celebration for Queen Elizabeth who was, after all, his godmother, where he sat at the same banquet table with William and Kate. I later learned that he was born in London in 1945 in Suite 212 of Claridge’s Hotel after Winston Churchill had declared that suite part of Yugoslavia (which Serbia was then called) for a day so he might one day inherit the crown. He was baptized in Westminster Abbey under the proud eyes of his godfather, King George VI, and the future queen, Princess Elizabeth.
As we strode up to get our pictures taken with the Crown Prince and Princess, the Prince asked Rhett, where he was from. When Rhett replied, “Kentucky,” the Prince said, “Yes, the Kentucky Derby.”
When I rolled by, the Prince asked me where I was from. “I’m from Charleston, West Virginia,” I replied. “Ah, yes,” the Prince said, “Country Roads.”
Written by Stephen A. Weber, Esq.