Our Man in Vienna

Publishers Weekly - Publisher's Weekly

Unlike most diplomatic memoirs, which deal with weighty matters of politics and foreign relations, Conroy's (Our Man in Belize, etc.) reminiscences are a lark. As U.S. vice consul (and later consul) in Vienna between 1963 and 1966, he seems to have dealt mostly with visa-related matters, judging from these latest sprightly recollections. Apart from a brief meeting with Simon Wiesenthal, who was operating a clearinghouse for information about the fate of European Jewry, most of the book consists of amusing if repetitious stories about eccentric, colorful, odd or desperate visa applicants. They include a mad Yugoslav inventor, a belly dancer whose Egyptian work permit had expired, an opera singer who was being stalked by another singer, an American teenage girl living in a derelict abandoned palace and a Czech gold smuggler posing as a dentist. There are tales of hair-raising escapes from Iron Curtain countries, of lovers reunited. Two of Conroy's immigration cases ended badly, with each woman dying in suspicious circumstances: one was mob-affiliated Virginia Hill Hauser, expatriate Southerner and former lover of "Bugsy" Siegel; the other, Austrian-American Ilse Schmidt, fled Baghdad, she told Conroy, after killing her bigamist Iraqi husband in self-defense. A droll observer of the human predicament, Conroy exudes a healthy disrespect for hierarchy, bosses, authority and received wisdom. While this self-indulgent memoir, which closes with his transfer to Washington as science liaison for the Atomic Energy Commission, lacks the sparkle of his Belize book, his comic misadventures nevertheless add up to a witty Thurberesque catalogue of human foibles, pretense, quirks and folly. Photos and drawings. (Aug.) Copyright 2000 Cahners Business Information.|

Library Journal

Picking up where Our Man in Belize (LJ 10/1/97) left off, Conroy shares further insight into the life of an American Foreign Service diplomat in the 1960s. This time his assignment takes us to Vienna, where he was initially assigned as a visa officer. There, among other adventures, he helped an Austrian hooker and an American make their way to the United States. Conroy managed to be promoted to Passport and Citizenship Consul, where his duties included assisting Virginia Hill Hauser, who had a long affair with mobster Bugsy Siegel. However, the author never loses sight of what was most important in his career: eating enough rich Viennese food to regain the 25 pounds he lost in Belize. Blending dry wit with an uncanny gift for storytelling, Conroy's memoirs breathe life into what could seemingly be called a run-of-the-mill desk job. Recommended for larger public libraries.--Jill Jaracz, MLIS, Chicago Copyright 2000 Cahners Business Information.\

Kirkus Reviews

A genial successor to Our Man in Belize (1997) continues Conroy's deliciously unserious memoirs of life in the Foreign Service in 1960s Vienna, where suspected Russian spies apply for visas and the notorious mistress of mobster Bugsy Siegel asks for help. Conroy frankly admits that his memory has sometimes failed and that names have been changed, but he offers a wryly humorous recollection all the same. His view is not from the lofty perches of the Embassy but the more lowly regions of the Consulate, where he is initially a vice-consul responsible for issuing visas. Vienna is not Belize, and the eating and drinking is so good that he soon regains most of the weight he lost in Central America. Antiques (especially fine Art Nouveau pieces) are cheap, too, and as a pianist there are not only concerts to enjoy but superb pianos to acquire. But it's also the height of the Cold War, don't forget, and applications for visas to the US must be carefully scrutinized (which means Conroy often has to meet with the CIA over lunch to discuss such applicants as the businessman who claims he was only wearing a Red Army uniform in a photograph in his file to impress his girlfriend). The author describes colorful colleagues like Theo (the dipso legal adviser who invaded Stalingrad on a bicycle) and relates the various odd jobs that fell his way (such as ensuring that an elderly American who wanted to be a ballet dancer got his monthly remittance, and helping an old woman from Brooklyn escape from a Budapest man she was convinced was slicing flesh off her feet). But after dealing with this rich mix of cons, innocents, and lost souls, Conroy was eventually transferred to Washington, where he learnedtotangle with an often obtuse State Department and some devious official foreign visitors. Though the humor is sometimes strained, and the tone dated, the period charm and infectious goodwill more than compensate.