Version:1.0 StartHTML:0000000167 EndHTML:0000269480 StartFragment:0000000457 EndFragment:0000269464

A former freelance journalist who was in Jakarta, Indonesia, during

“the year of living dangerously” relates his close encounters

with two Indonesian presidents

Rubbing Shoulders With Two Presidents

CHAPTER 1

Playing President

It was January 1967. I think it was the 10th of the month. I was a freelance journalist writing for various foreign news media covering the aftermath of what the wire services dubbed the October 1965 abortive communist coup attempt in Jakarta, Indonesia. I was a stringer – that’s the term used to describe a non-staff reporter – for Time magazine, CBS News and the United Press International (UPI).

The UPI Bureau Chief for Indonesia, Dick Stone, asked me to cover the Halal Bihalal ceremony hosted by President Soekarno and Mrs. Hartini that evening in Bogor. Hartini, the first lady, was Soekarno’s second wife. Bogor, in West Java province, about 40 miles south of the Indonesian capital city of Jakarta, is where the presidential summer palace is located. The ceremony is traditionally held by Indonesian Moslems every year following their celebration of the Idul Fitri holy day marking the end of the Ramadhan fasting month. The ceremony provides an opportunity for them to forgive one another for any offenses committed during the previous year.

UPI had two staff reporters and a staff photographer, but none of them could go to cover the event. I had no invitation. Theoretically, I wouldn’t have been able to comply with Dick’s instruction. But I needed the money. Stringers were paid on a piecemeal basis, so no story no pay.

Elsie Sequiera, the smart and resourceful office manager, who had an invitation and wanted very much to go, said to me, “C’mon Tommy, just use Hartoyo’s invitation. Tell them he can’t make it and you replace him.” She was right. I wouldn’t have any problem convincing the presidential security guards I was filling in for Hartoyo, one of the two staff reporters. Since each invitation was good for a couple, I told Elsie I was going to take my new girlfriend with me.

I had met Grace in early December the year before. The beautiful, petite Eurasian-looking young lady hailed from Menado, North Sulawesi (Celebes). She was an announcer for the Televisi Republik Indonesia (TVRI), the only TV station at the time in Jakarta, in fact in Indonesia, owned by the government. At the time of writing, Jakarta boasts more than a dozen TV stations, all operated by private broadcasters except for the TVRI. The circumstances in which we met were very interesting which I will cover in a separate chapter.