Memoires 1978-1979

[p. 7]

Inleiding

When the manuscript of Willem Oltmans Memoires 1978-1979 arrived on my desk I was still basking in the pleasures of an outstanding television profile De man van 8 miljoen I had seen a few weeks earlier. Within the profile, filmed shortly before his death, Willem was asked by Theo van Gogh what he felt had been the highlight of his life.

Willem answered: ‘Peter.’

I felt a surge of gratitude, and a feeling of warmth knowing that our long and unique friendship had been crowned with the ultimate acknowledgement in one word.

I opened the manuscript and on the first page I read: ‘Ik ben in een uiterst prettige stemming met het vooruitzicht naar Peter te gaan.’ Still on the same page, he writes: ‘Heerlijk om hem aan te zien komen lopen en te omhelzen.’

I reflected for some time and began to realize just how important I had been in Willem's life. And he in mine.

From the day I met him, it was as if I had stepped out of the wings and took centre stage in Willem's life. I would remain in that spotlight right up until the moment I stroked his face as he left this world in 2004. But even now the spotlight doesn't dim, for as the pages of his memoirs are turned, within the windmills of my mind the memories of our turbulent and triumphant times together begin to unfold.

Willem travelled extensively. And so did I. Yet we always made time to meet up, whatever the continent, or whatever side of the Atlantic.

In 1978 I was working and living in Madrid. They were hectic times. Appearing in a controversial musical, coupled with the Spanish temperament and the aggressive, sexual, and at times unwanted media attention I was getting I longed for something more sane.

Willem would arrive in Madrid and the world would seem a better place. Together on terraces and in restaurants we spent hours discussing our lives and deepest thoughts. With laughter and humour we tried to comprehend the absurdities of modern politics.

Willem had also met and befriended many of the renowned

[p. 8]

psychologists of the time and so our mutual interest in the human brain would lead to many heated conversations.

Our partings were always painful for us both.

As Willem wrote: ‘Ik werd helemaal naar van dit afscheid en kreeg het vreselijk aan mijn maag. “Thank you for everything,” zei Peter, maar hij zal nooit weten hoe dankbaar ik hem ben voor zijn blijvende en zich verdiepende affectie, die als een paal boven water staat.’

Willem became obsessed with the idea of moving permanently to Hollywood, California. ‘Eigenlijk zou ik Holland voor altijd de rug willen toekeren.’ We had discussed the idea of sharing a house together. But I had been to Hollywood on several occasions and decided that it was not a life-style I would enjoy, nor a world that I wished to inhabit.

Earlier I had entertained the idea of furthering my studies at Columbia University, New York, and had been offered assistance from the legendary Dr Margaret Mead whom I had met through Willem. She died in 1978 and it was upsetting to Willem for they had enjoyed a lasting friendship and Willem held her in high esteem. ‘Ben dankbaar bevriend met haar te zijn geweest. Zij verdiepte zich zelfs in mogelijkheden voor Peter's toekomst.’

I choose to return to London and be with my friend Edwin whom I had missed so much during my sojourn in Spain.

My decision was devastating for Willem. And although it seemed as if a dream had been shattered for him, it put no strain on our relationship. On the contrary. He wrote: ‘Ik moet hem vandaag toch zeggen, “Peter, I love you each day a bit deeper and more.” Zijn huid is beautiful en zijn ogen zijn clear, duidelijk. Wanneer ik met hem samen ben, noteer ik altijd maar weinig. Ik ga dan volkomen, van minuut tot minuut, in het samenzijn op.’ Reading that insert in Willem's memoir the reader would understandably conclude that we were lovers. I read his words as a love-letter to a friend. My belief has always been that platonic love in its purity could rival sexual or romantic love that inevitably seems to end in torturous feelings of sadness, regret and wasted time. Willem and I were never party to those feelings.

The diary reads: ‘Ik weet zeker dat Peter ook als ik er niet meer ben altijd de waarheid over me zal spreken.’ And so I shall. I will honour his memory with dignity and integrity, and hope that the others to whom he entrusted his memory will do the same.

Peter van de Wouw, Amsterdam, 2009.