Tehran Was Never Like This

By Ed Magnuson

Ex-hostages seem happy, healthy in a therapeutic reunion

The Allegheny Mountains town of White Sulphur Springs, W. Va., gained a reputation as a healing center in 1778, when Amanda Anderson, long a rheumatic invalid, was placed gently into a hollowed-out tree trunk and slowly immersed in the sulfurous waters of a local spring. Suddenly she jumped out of the trunk and shouted, "I'm cured! I'm cured!" Last week, at White Sulphur Springs' stately Greenbrier resort hotel, the State Department quizzed and counseled 31 of the 53 Americans who had been held hostage in Iran. After three days of therapy and relaxation, however, none came out crying "I'm cured!" That may be because very few of them appear to have been sick.

As a group, the released hostages defied those scary predictions by academics and long-distance psychiatrists that they would return as deeply troubled individuals, reliving their 444 days in captivity in recurring nightmares and struggling to cope with interrupted marriages and the demands of normal life. Most of the returnees and their families had resented all this gloomy guessing; some also resented the State Department's continued concern about their mental readjustment. "I feel they're watching us so we can be the subject of a paper," complained Army Sergeant Donald Hohman, of West Sacramento, Calif. "I don't want to be a case study." Said Richard Morefield of San Diego about the Government therapists: "They were prepared for basket cases, and that was only prudent. But I think that what they're going to learn is that there simply is no 'Iran syndrome.' "

The long separation probably did aggravate the problems of couples whose marriages already had been strained. A few of the returnees said that they felt the need for psychiatric help. There was some speculation at Greenbrier that perhaps the returnees facing the most serious readjustment problems were among those who had declined to attend, though many might just as logically have stayed away because they felt that they needed no help. None of the Marines showed up, perhaps because, as Marine Colonel James L. Cooper, commanding officer of all the Marine security guards, contended, "What some soft-living State Department type might consider torture is just normal living conditions for a Marine." That brought a reply from a State Department spokesman that the diplomatic personnel at the Tehran embassy actually were treated far more harshly than the Marines. Among the absentees, one former hostage simply paid his respects: Navy Commander Donald Sharer, now stationed at a nearby Virginia military base, buzzed the resort spectacularly in a low-flying F-14 jet fighter.

Many of the returnees said the main lure in attending was to enjoy a vacation at the 200-year-old haven, which covers 6,500 scenic acres sprinkled with horse-riding trails, tennis courts, swimming pools and a championship golf course. The hotel provided free rooms and services; airlines flew in the guests gratis. The setting was about as far removed from Tehran's "Mushroom Inn" cells as a former hostage could hope to find.

Many of the returned Americans have already resumed their diplomatic or military careers. Of the nine Marines released in January, only one, Sergeant Rodney Sickmann of Washington, Mo., has accepted the offer of an early discharge. Embassy Charge d' Affaires L. Bruce Laingen rebuffs reports that he will run for public office. "He'd be good at it," said his wife Penelope. "But how could I leave the foreign service?" he countered. Richard Queen, of Lincolnville, Me., whose multiple sclerosis is in indefinite remission, is back at a State Department desk in Washington while awaiting a prized post as an ambassadorial aide in London. Says he: "I don't want any more pressure, any more tension."

Kathryn Koob, of Jessup, Iowa, will soon take up a new assignment in New York City with the International Communications Agency. Her adjustment, she says, has been mainly in trying to find a new apartment and new credit cards--"the same kind of thing you go through when you have your purse stolen." She does get a bit miffed when autograph seekers call her Ann, confusing her with Elizabeth Ann Swift, with whom she spent her captivity. Swift, of Washington, D.C., is fighting gamely to keep from regaining weight she lost as a hostage.

As with most other citizens, a main concern of the returnees has been their finances. Some are picking up extra income as lecturers, and a few are writing books. A rule that Government employees cannot earn more than $25,000 in outside income in any year has been changed so that the former hostages can spread their book and lecture payments over enough years to stay under the ceiling. The unmarried hostages faced a bonanza in accumulated back pay, while paychecks for others continued to go to their wives and children. Several ex-captives have filed lawsuits against Iran for holding them illegally, though that kind of liability was waived in the agreement between the U.S. and Iran that brought the hostages their release. The lawsuits in effect challenge the constitutionality of the agreement.

At Greenbrier, Louisa Kennedy, wife of former Hostage Moorhead Kennedy, announced that the hostage family group she helped found, called FLAG (Family Liaison Action Group) will now concentrate on gaining financial compensation for the returned Americans. Pending such financial aid, the State Department last week conferred its second highest honor, the Award of Valor, on the Marine guards and diplomatic personnel who had been seized.

--By Ed Magnuson. Reported by Susan Schindehette/White Sulphur Springs

With reporting by Susan Schindehette/White Sulphur Springs

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