Chase Alumni Association

Joseph Reed Stories

DR's Aide During His Years as a Diplomat

On Air Force One

Ed Moran was skimming through the book Yes, Sir! Mr. President, written by Howie Franklin, a former Air Force Master Sergeant who was a flight attendant for a number of presidents on Air Force One. "One story in particular hit home, about Joseph Reed, who was at one time David Rockefeller’s 'aide-de-camp'. I must say it was pretty representative of the person I knew slightly and observed with some amusement," Moran said.

     One of the funniest breakdowns in communication I ever witnessed came when we had Ambassador Joseph Reed on a mission. I knew Ambassador Reed, prior to his days at the United Nations, when I worked at the Talisman Yacht Club. He knew everyone there. At that time he was the vice president and assistant to the chairman of Chase Manhattan Bank, working under David Rockefeller.

     In 1981 he was appointed by President Ronald Reagan to serve as U.S. ambassador to Morocco, a post he held until 1985. Then, he served as chief of protocol of the United States at the U.N. from 1989 to 1991.

     Ambassador Reed was a class act. Every time he traveled with us he would write a letter to the crew filled with compliments and thanking us for the service. Those letters helped me greatly in getting promotions.

     During his last flight with us in his U.N. position, we were returning from Honolulu. He was on the back-up plane to Air Force One. He and his daughter were our only passengers on that leg of the trip.

     Ambassador Reed came up to a fellow steward on the plane, Kevin Clark, and asked, "Kevin, do you think I can take a picture back in the staff area?"

     As a general rule, personal, unofficial photos are prohibited in the president's area of the plane. Kevin contacted the pilot to run the request by him, pointing out how kind the ambassador had been to us and did he see a problem with bending the rules this one time, especially since it was his last trip and the president was not on board. Plus, there was nothing classified in the area on this flight.

     "Yeah, no problem," the aircraft commander said.

     Kevin passed the good news on to Ambassador Reed who proceeded to head towards the staff area of the plane with his daughter.

     After landing at Andrews, the pilot was standing just outside the door to the flight deck along with Kevin. They wanted to give a send-off to Ambassador Reed who had been so kind to us. As he made his way to the door with his daughter, they noticed the ambassador had a huge frame, at least 20 by 40, under his arm. He had taken a picture in the staff area alright, one right off the wall of the back-up Air Force One!

     This was a quick lesson in the "assume" breakdown. He had asked if he could "take a picture back in the staff area." The crewmembers were the ones who assumed he was talking about taking a photo with his daughter.

     Initially, the pilot was very nervous what what the ambassador had done, but Kevin assured him the picture would be replaced fast. So, Ambassador Reed and his daughter made their way from their last flight on board with that picture they had taken, in the literal, not protographic, sense.

(Yes, Sir! Mr. President; Howie Franklin, with Mark Grady; Webster Falls Media (2015), pages 175-177.

Now It Can Be Told 

By Bill Flanz (shown in photo with David Rockefeller)

During my assignment as Chase Area Director for the Middle East and North Africa, I was on one of those annual two-week DR trips to call on customers and government leaders. 

During a Friday holiday, we took off from Amman in two Jordanian military helicopters for some sightseeing. Our first stop was to be Petra, where, very surprisingly, David produced cash and insisted upon paying for our horse rentals for our ride through the carved city. I say surprisingly, because DR never carried cash, and I once witnessed him borrow $5 from Tony Coe, but that is a story for another day.

After thumping along for what seemed an eternity in the loud, vibrating Huey helicopter, the wine I had consumed the night before, and the coffee I drank before we took off, began to catch up with me. I tapped the pilot on his shoulder, signaled my plight, and pointed to my watch. He indicated another hour to Petra. I let him know an hour was too long for my comfort, at which point he put the chopper into a steep descent to land, so I could step outside onto the desert floor and take care of my problem.

While I was standing very contentedly under the spinning rotor, amidst the blowing sand, I looked up to see the second helicopter, circling a couple of hundred feet above us. Then I noticed a telephoto lens pressed against a window, above which was Joseph’s grinning face.

I am not sure what Joseph did with that photo, or whether or not he pushed the button, but I never received a blackmail note.