My travels with Uta - Uta Ranke-Heinemann

Christian Century, April 19, 1995 by John D. Spalding

As I was taking the keys, Uta came rushing to the desk in hysterics, all packed and ready to leave. "John, John," she screamed, "Ve must leave now or else I go back to Germany. I heard ze doors bang!" Back upstairs, the deskman helped me move Uta to her new room, commenting grudgingly that there was no way he could rebook the room that day.

That night Uta slept well. So well, in fact, that she called me at 7 A.M. the next day inviting me to go for a walk.

"When?" I grumbled.

"I'm ready now," she chirped.

Later that evening I ran into the guy from the desk in the lobby. He gave me the best news I'd had all day. The director of booking had happened by earlier and the desk clerk had convinced him to move the woman taking Uta's suite the next day into another suite. Back in my room, I did a little dance.

The next thing I knew, it was 6:30 Monday morning, and my phone was ringing. It was Uta. She said she had blood poisoning.

"What do you mean, you've got blood poisoning?"

"Blood poisoning, John," she moaned. "My shoe cut my heel on our walk, and I'm going to have blood poisoning which my husband almost died of before I left Germany. They were going to have to operate, zen ze doctor gave him a prescription. You must call a doctor and get me some penicillin at once or else it vill spread up my leg and attack my heart."

What could I say? I rushed right over. Of course, it was just a small blister, and I told her so. I went downstairs and bought some Band-Aids and alcohol pads. This calmed her. Then she dropped the bomb. "John," she said, "ve must leave zis hotel immediately."

"Oh?" I inquired casually. "Why must we leave immediately?"

"Because of ze traffic," she explained. "It kept me up all night and now I am once again ruined. Back where I was in New York with ze banging of ze doors, no sleep, and my head completely in the fogs!"

I knew exactly what she was talking about. An author tour is hard on anyone. The planes, the cars, the new cities, the long hours--it was all beginning to catch up with me, too. So I gave in. Uta needed her rest, and I needed mine. The next morning, while Uta gave interviews, I phoned hotels. Miraculously, the Park Hyatt had an open suite, and when Uta returned to the Carlton at noon, I was waiting in the lobby with our luggage.

HANDS DOWN, Uta's best interview of the tour occurred the following day with Hollis Engley of Gannett News Service. Before Hollis arrived, I was with Uta in her room waiting for his call. The day before, we'd had the engineer up to take apart the bathroom phone. It lay in about seven different pieces on the bathroom floor.

When Hollis called, the only phone that rang was the one in the bathroom. I went down to the lobby to get Hollis. When we returned to the room, Uta was in hysterics about the phone and greeted the Gannett reporter with a lecture on the inefficiency of hotels. She told him about New York, the traffic, cutting the phone cords, and her sleeping pills. As she rattled on, Hollis shot me a bewildered glance. I shrugged my shoulders.