Source and Wife

The commentator on Radio Luxembourg called it a "black day" for the European Common Market and "the end of Europe." Never one to disguise her convictions, Newswoman Liliane Thorn-Petit attacked the nine Common Market Foreign Ministers for what she considered a pro-Arab policy. The officials, she said, lacked the courage to stand up to Arab oil producers. None of her targets had reason to be pleased with Mme. Thorn-Petit's assault, but the least happy victim last week was Luxembourg Foreign Minister Gaston Thorn, who happens to be her husband.

The professional clashes between Gaston and Liliane have entertained tiny Luxembourg (pop. 340,000) since he took office in 1969. A member of both the Common Market and NATO, Luxembourg is a close-knit center of Continental gossip. Mme. Thorn-Petit's privileged access to diplomatic parties, plus her intimacy with one of the Grand Duchy's top news sources, has certainly not hindered the journalism career she began after her graduation from the Sorbonne in 1957. A specialist in financial and foreign news, she writes for the Associated Press, does a weekly column for the French paper Le Republican Lorrain and a regular Sunday broadcast for Radio Luxembourg.

But Mme. Thorn-Petit says that her husband's occupation has actually made her work more difficult: "The A.P. complains that they have become the last to get any information since my husband was appointed Foreign Minister." For one thing, covering her husband's press conferences can be a trying experience. Though he often gives her a buss on the cheek on his way to the podium, Thorn likes to answer his wife's queries with such teasing asides as, "If Madame had arrived on time, she would know that question has already been asked." At one briefing, Thorn told his wife, "Now that's a very good question, for once. Why don't I hear things like that at home sometimes?" Her quick reply: "Just wait until you get home, and I'll show you." More than one conference has concluded with her request that the Foreign Minister pick up their son at school.

No Leaks. Mme. Thorn-Petit (whose professional name is a combination of her husband's and her own) has had to learn to repress her reportorial instincts while entertaining official guests. "Obviously, when I'm sitting next to Gromyko, I can't ask him about Soviet Jews," she says. "But when lunch is over, I take off my hostess's hat, pick up my reporter's notebook, go to the press conference and ask him questions." Dignitaries are sometimes startled to see then-- dining companion of a few hours earlier interrogating them in public.

Thorn and his wife are especially sensitive to charges of unprofessional conduct. "I have already begged my husband," she insists, "not to tell me if he has anything that is really secret and important. Then, if there's a leak, no one can suspect me." When the news of a possible German currency revaluation did filter out of Luxembourg in 1969, suspicion was about to center on her until her husband admitted that he was the culprit. He had revealed the news to one of his wife's colleagues at A.P.

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