The 80's : 1987

The 80’s

The year is 1987.

Various aspects I mentioned in other blog posts seem to all converge in 1987. Consequently, I might revisit some topics. There might also be aspects that I’ve never discussed publicly before. We’ll see how it unfolds. For now, put on your parachute pants, crank up your favorite 80’s music, and let’s see how it goes.

The year started uneventfully. President Reagan would spend every Christmas in Palm Springs, and I would always volunteer to stay behind. I would trade work days or take a few days’ leave to drive home for Christmas. I would return to the DC area for New Year’s and work while carrying a pager. However, I don’t recall ever getting paged during the Christmas holidays. The New Year arrived uneventfully as friends were either busy or traveling.

As the year progressed, my relationship with my roommate began to deteriorate. I suppose if we had established more ground rules, things could have been different. She constantly complained if I invited a date over to watch movies or if one of my female friends stopped by for a visit. She accused me of being unfair, thinking that I was lying to them, cheating on them, or something similar. However, it couldn’t be further from the truth. I was always upfront about my dating life. While I might date more than one person in a given period, they were always aware of it. If things became more serious with someone, I might start exclusively dating them, but in either case, they were fully informed. Many visitors were simply friends.

In a specific instance, my roommate deliberately sabotaged me with one of my friends. The friend was from the West Coast visiting family for a short stay in our area. We were on the phone, and the call waiting beep kept going off. It was difficult for us to talk. In my foolishness, I answered the call waiting before giving her the directions for her visit that night. It turned out to be my roommate’s boyfriend, who was verbally abusive and refused to call back. I should have simply ended the call, but I decided to be polite and told my roommate that she had 30 seconds to put him on hold, and I would quickly finish my call for her. Two hours later, she was still yelling at me, and she finally hung up. Naturally, my friend thought I was trying to get rid of her. Nothing could have been further from the truth. It took me an hour of using the White House switchboard and finally calling a friend in the area where I knew she was to get her dad’s phone number. She sounded extremely disappointed in me, and it was too late for a visit. I would next visit her a few months later in California, and was told that we should just be friends. It would have happened eventually since we were on different coasts and leading different lives, but at that point, I was a bit smitten. As it turned out, we remained friends throughout the 80s and would meet up a few more times in Santa Barbara.

This incident marked the beginning of the end for my roommate. She accused me of being nasty to all of her boyfriends, and there was some truth to that. She seemed to be attracted to jerks who were often verbally abusive and rude. One night, she walked into my bedroom and told me that she was moving out and would pay her share of the rent (since she was on the lease) until I could find a new roommate. I half-heartedly said that she didn’t have to go, but I knew it was the best decision.

Shortly before she moved out, I started a relationship with an enlisted lady stationed at Fort Belvoir. She was preparing to leave the army. We decided to continue the relationship since she was relocating with her son to Eastern Pennsylvania, which was about two or three hours away and seemed manageable. She would visit me for parties, and I would visit her a few times. However, our relationship ended rather abruptly.

One day, I called her, and she told me that I didn’t need to call as frequently. Once a week was sufficient, unless I had something important to say. A few weeks later, I visited her, and she seemed angry that I had sat at the counter to talk to her. She even chased me in with her son. She claimed that she wasn’t in high school and didn’t need all of my attention. I was puzzled because we had only seen each other maybe once a month. I decided to visit her one more time.

After a three-week trip out west, I didn’t bring her number with me. When I returned, I called her and explained that I hadn’t called because I needed some time to think and would like to visit her in person to talk. However, she refused to meet with me and had already told her son that I was like his father and didn’t care about him. Our relationship ended as quickly as it had begun after a few short months. She is probably one of only two breakups that didn’t result in a lasting friendship. 

By this time, I had become a team chief (also known as a director) responsible for sound and lighting during stateside Presidential visits. This entailed overseeing a team of individuals who often outranked me, but I never encountered any issues with this arrangement. I had successfully completed numerous trips and often found myself traveling with the same officers in charge of the events. By that point, I had become familiar with all the White House advance staff, having worked with some of them for years. Some of the younger advance team members were my age, which likely contributed to a smoother working environment. While I was not directly responsible for overseas trips, the working relationships I had established during my time in the States carried over and made my job much easier. Additionally, Secret Service agents were familiar with me and knew that I was always willing to assist them (for instance, by moving speakers or adding more lighting).

Despite the extensive traveling, maintaining relationships remained challenging. I often found myself spending time with close friends, such as a very close female coworker or my high school friend and her roommates. I bring this up because my mention of overseas trips would unexpectedly play a significant role in two of these relationships. 

Around the end of April, I began dating someone who worked with the wife of a coworker. Things seemed to be progressing well. We went out a couple of times, and I even met her parents once while picking her up. At that point, it wasn’t anything serious, but we were clearly having fun.

However, in the middle of May, I was unexpectedly sent to Rome, Italy, for a month-long assignment. I knew shortly after my visit that my brother was getting married. Around the second time I called her from Rome, I suggested that we go together. I could get her a private room, and we could explore sites in New Hampshire and Maine. She seemed a bit hesitant but agreed that it could be enjoyable.

A few days later, I called her again, only to be told that an old boyfriend had called, and she was considering trying to reconcile with him. This wasn’t the first time this had happened to me, and I can’t entirely blame it on my time away. However, I’m sure my absence didn’t help matters.

Despite the unexpected turn of events, I surprisingly didn’t feel upset the next day. She became a friend, and even later on, she met my wife. This unexpected turn of events also allowed me to tour Rome without worrying about time zone differences. It sort of made me feel more at ease during my trip. As I often do on overseas trips, I worked the switchboard for a few days so that the phone crew could focus on their installations.

One afternoon, while working the switchboard, a coworker informed me that we had been invited to the Friday Kegger at the Marine House in the US Embassy. This event would eventually lead to the other relationship mentioned briefly earlier.

The Marine House had a real bar with music playing and a spacious dance floor. Feeling a bit out of place, I took a seat at the bar. A 19-year-old German lady sat next to me. We started chatting, and I discovered she worked at the German Embassy. She mentioned that she and her friends had a standing invitation to the Friday night Kegger (I call it a kegger for lack of a better term).

When she returned from the restroom, she stopped next to a friend who was talking to my travel leader. They introduced me to her, and we laughed together. She then gave me a kiss on the cheek. Her friend was unaware that we had been talking for almost an hour. This unexpected turn of events sparked a whirlwind romance.

First and foremost, I was attracted to her. She was significantly younger than I would typically date (though I would later date someone the same age). In hindsight, I engaged in some actions that I would not have recommended to anyone in my position.

On the night we met, we embarked on a spontaneous road trip around Rome in a car with her friends. We stopped for meals and eventually ended up at her apartment, where she shared her living space with her roommate. We played a board game, but mostly, we cuddled and engaged in conversations. After work hours, we would spend time at either her apartment or my hotel room. Despite our great connection, the reality of the situation began to sink in, and it left me feeling sad.

The problem was that my time there was limited, and there was a chance I could face issues if someone reported me. I couldn’t maintain my clearance if I had a relationship with a foreign national. Upon returning to DC, I would be required to report every phone call and turn over every letter I received. Additionally, there was the issue of a transcontinental relationship. Considering the uncertainty, I knew I had to end things. The night before the President’s visit to the Vatican, I believe she realized it was over. Before I could say anything, she approached me with tears in her eyes, hugged me for about 20 minutes (probably an exaggeration), and then I explained that I couldn’t see her the following night as it would be very late, and we were leaving very early the next morning. I tried to explain why, but she silenced me, kissed me, and left. I felt terrible because I genuinely liked her. She called me the next night. I know she wanted me to invite her over, but it had to stop there. I had her number and almost called when I got home but stopped myself.

I must add something about the next morning. We had to depart at 7 a.m. Our trucks were loaded, and we boarded a bus. We were parked on the street between the Excelsior Hotel and the American Embassy in Rome. This was also where my friend always parked when she visited the hotel. We left between 7:15 and 7:30 a.m. At 7:45 a.m., a car bomb exploded in the vicinity of where we were parked, and homemade missiles landed in the embassy compound. We were informed when we reached the airport that we had narrowly escaped. I can’t help but think that by not inviting her over, she was spared as well. You can read more about it here:

https://www.latimes.com/archives/la-xpm-1987-06-10-mn-3615-story.html

When I returned home, things settled down for a while. I spent time with friends and eventually started dating a friend of my friend, Amy. (I mentioned briefly that I wanted to date Amy, but that’s another story.) We went out once and had a great conversation. I visited her at the record shop she worked at. We had met at a club when Amy brought her along. She was headed back to her last year of college but was going to the Bahamas with her parents before that. I suggested we meet up in Nassau after an upcoming trip to Nebraska, but we weren’t serious about it at all.

That brings me to the trip in North Platte, Nebraska, in August. I usually traveled with the team to trip sites. On this particular trip, they needed the Audio Visual director to travel ahead of the team, along with the Trip Officer, because there were meetings scheduled about the event site the day before. This also meant that I had to arrange for vehicles and room assignments at the hotel. It was new to me and a bit daunting. While doing this, I decided to check if there were any female attendees on the trip that I could ask out to dinner or hang out with.

The first name I noticed was my ex-roommate. (A year later, her husband caused her to be kicked out of the agency, and she divorced him, claiming abuse.) She had always been reliable and helpful to me, and I think they often sent her on my trips because I could handle her better than some others. That’s just a supposition, though. The second name was Alison Pitzer.

I had never met Alison formally, but I recognized her name as the pretty lady on the White House Shuttle with long legs. I had wanted to meet her, so I thought this was the perfect opportunity. However, it turned out she was the administrative person for the visit, which meant I would have to brief her on all the advanced work I had done, knowing she would likely make some changes.

My trip officer instructed me to pick her up and drive her to the hotel to get started while the plane was unloading. When I saw her, I noticed she had slept during the flight, which l thought was cute. She seemed a bit shy, so I offered her gum since she had been sleeping. She smiled and we talked on the way to the hotel.

When the trucks arrived, we agreed to meet with others in the hotel bar after completing our work. It was evident that there was a connection between us, and I told myself that afternoon that I was going to marry her.

That night in the bar, we slow danced. I tried to kiss her, but she giggled and turned away. That was a bit of a surprise for me. I didn’t think I had ever been turned down for a kiss during a dance before. However, she did giggle and smile.

We went back to the bar, and I pulled out a stool for her next to the trip officer. She shook her head no and said for me to sit. Then, she proceeded to sit on my lap. I was a bit confused but didn’t have any issues. We kissed a couple of nights later, but it was after a lot of flirting.

One night, we went out for Chinese food. I got a fortune cookie that said, “Look no further. The one you seek is right in front of you.” I was afraid to show it to her, but when she asked, I showed it to her. She blushed a little but laughed.

We spent the rest of the trip flirting and attending events together, like a picnic at the Ted Long Ranch and a party at a rodeo arena. At the rodeo arena, the officers remarked that our agency’s low profile had gone out the window. First, they asked for a volunteer from the audience. They grabbed Alison and took her up on stage. They had her hold a bow, and the guy played fiddle while she held the bow. The audience erupted in huge applause. Later, they requested some White House Staff to join them in singing. Two of the White House Advance staff I had worked with since the 1984 campaign were there. They shouted my name and started dragging me up to the stage. I went up, and the three of us sang background vocals for two songs. We were good, and the band was even surprised. As I walked back to sit with Alison, one of the officers said, “Niederlander and Pitzer just destroyed our low-key.”

Upon arriving at Andrews Air Force Base (now Joint Base Andrews), we hugged and promised to get together soon.

This might seem like the point where I say, “We lived happily ever after,” but unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. We dated as often as we could, and things seemed to be going well. We agreed to leave the past behind and seemed to be happy. She often visited her hometown of Butler, Pennsylvania, but I didn’t mind. I was even invited once, but I had weekend standby (I did go later). Shortly after one of her visits home, things started to take a turn for the worse. 

I’ll omit a lot here to avoid embarrassing or upsetting Alison. Our first disagreement, if you can call it that, occurred shortly after our first date. We had planned a Friday night date, which was convenient since we lived equally distant in opposite directions from work. It was an hour-long drive without traffic, but it could easily take an hour and a half with traffic.

The day before the date, she called to cancel. She said her ex-boyfriend wanted to take her to dinner to say goodbye as he was leaving the area and wouldn’t see her again. I will take the blame for this disagreement. My initial thought was, here we go again. I had three other relationships where old boyfriends came into the picture, and only one of those turned out okay, albeit just for a while.

I asked if he couldn’t do it another night, since we had plans. She got angry and said no. She was on the verge of tears when we hung up, and I felt a bit angry and betrayed. I guess I shouldn’t have reacted that way, but the past sometimes creeps up and makes you act improperly.

A few weeks later, things got even stranger.

It was approaching Christmas. We went to eat at Charlie Brown’s in Woodbridge, Virginia, for dinner. I often took dates here because the food was good and the atmosphere was pleasant. While waiting for our food, not talking about the past seemed to fade away. She started talking about her past relationships, but she did it in a way that made me feel like she was trying to make me jealous or angry. She just smirked at me as I got uncomfortable.

When we got back to my apartment, she confided in me a personal issue that I won’t go into. I realize now that she was trying to get me to break up with her. She even admitted later that she used that tactic to break up with guys, but for some reason, guys never took the bait. 

The next time we went out, everything seemed normal again. So, right before she was going to head home for Christmas, we had dinner at our favorite Chinese restaurant in Laurel, Maryland. We were having a great time, and the conversation turned to marriage. I said I would buy her a ring for Christmas. She politely declined, saying she wasn’t ready yet. While I was hopeful that she would reconsider, that hope was suddenly shattered.

A couple of days later, I called her, and she ended the relationship. She explained that there were too many things going on in her life, and she needed some space. I asked if I could call her in a month or so to check in and see how she was doing, and she agreed. I knew that the call wouldn’t be pleasant, but I was willing to wait.

Well, that’s where I’ll leave it for now. This is by far the longest entry I’ve written. I’ve omitted other relationships and details from our breakup, but some of those details may come back later. Some people say that things get worse before they get better, and I’m curious to see if that’s true as I continue to reflect on this experience. In the meantime, I want to express my gratitude to all of you for taking the time to read this. Please take care and stay tuned for more updates.