Last month, I sent an email to Tony Hayward, CEO of BP:

Dear Mr. Hayward,

I will be brief. My name is Steve Blevins and I write for Open Salon. Next week, I will be publishing a post about your role in the BP oil spill. I don’t want to blindside you, so I am letting you know in advance.

Cordially,

Steve Blevins

To my surprise, I received a response from Mr. Hayward the following day:

Dear Mr. Blevins,

Thank you for your thoughtful letter. I wish I could express the magnitude of my sorrow over the oil spill. So much harm has been done to so many. I assure you that BP will spare no expense, no technology, no ingenuity to undo the damage. You are very kind to apprise me of your upcoming review. Few journalists would show such integrity. May I ask a small favor? Would you grant me a brief interview? I would welcome the opportunity to tell my side of the story. If my request greets you favorably, please call me at 011-44-20-xxxxxxx.

Sincerely,

Tony Hayward

As soon as I received the email, I called Mr. Hayward. His secretary, Patricia, answered. She said that Mr. Hayward was in a meeting and that she was authorized to schedule the interview and to arrange for my weekend in London. When I explained that the interview could be conducted by phone, she said Mr. Hayward usually conducts interviews in person and had arranged for my all-expenses-paid weekend in London. I told her that was unnecessary, but she insisted, and, ultimately, I acquiesced.

My roundtrip ticket to Gatwick arrived the next day and I was on my way to London that evening. Having never flown first-class on British Airways, I was surprised to discover the ease with which one sleeps on the long and fully recumbent chairs in first class.

I was refreshed when I arrived in London. Mr. Hayward’s assistant, Elaine, met me at the airport. She was lovely. She asked about my flight. When I told her it was comfortable, she said Mr. Hayward would be delighted to hear it. She then asked if I had any interest in yachting. When I explained that yachting is not overly popular in Oklahoma, she insisted that I attend the Hampshire race on Saturday “to get my feet wet.” I accepted.

We retrieved my luggage and proceeded to the limousine. Elaine instructed the driver to take us to the Ritz at Piccadilly.

We arrived thirty minutes later. As we approached the front desk, the hotel manager greeted us warmly. He then gave me the keys to my suite. Before leaving, Elaine asked if I had plans for breakfast. When I said I did not, she offered to meet me for breakfast in an hour. (Due to the time change, it was already morning.)

I entered my suite and began unpacking.

An hour later, Elaine knocked on the door. She asked if my accommodations were satisfactory; I told her they were. We then proceeded downstairs to the Palm Court for breakfast.

The breakfast was wonderful. It had been a long time since I had enjoyed poached haddock with diced tomatoes in champagne sauce.

After breakfast, we went to Hampshire to watch the yachts.

The weather was lovely. The breeze was cool and the water sparkled in the sunlight. The boats looked gallant with the wind in their sails. We cheered as each boat left the marina.

Once the final boat had vanished, Elaine and I returned to the Ritz. She encouraged me to spend the afternoon resting because she had tickets for the evening’s performance of Ariadne auf Naxos at the Royal Opera House. I thanked Elaine for a lovely day, bade her farewell, and tucked myself into bed.

Four hours later, I awoke, showered, and put on my suit. Elaine arrived and we went to the Royal Opera House at Covent Garden.

The performance was superb. The principals were flawless, the orchestra was inerrant, and the staging was dazzling. During the intermission, Elaine and I shared an impeccable Veuve Clicquot. Our cheeks were rosy from the morning sun; our conversation sparkled with the champagne.

After the concert, she accompanied me to the Ritz, and before bidding me goodnight, told me that the limousine would pick me up at two o’clock the next day for my interview with Mr. Hayward. I thanked her, bade her goodnight, and turned in for the evening.

At two o’clock the next day, I was ready for the interview. The limousine took me to Mr. Hayward’s office on the Thames.

I entered his office. Within ten minutes, he arrived and we began to converse.

Mr. Hayward:   Good afternoon, Mr. Blevins. It is so nice to finally meet you. How is your stay so far?

Me:   Excellent, Mr. Hayward.

Mr. Hayward:   Please, call me Tony.

Me:   Certainly, Tony.

Mr. Hayward:   May I offer you a cognac and some truffles?

Me:   That would be wonderful.

Mr. Hayward:   (Pours cognac and passes truffles) Now, do you have questions for me?

Me:   Yes. How would you describe your role in the Gulf oil spill?

Mr. Hayward:   Well, this may surprise you, Mr. Blevins, but I too am a victim, just like the little people of the Gulf. Accidents will happen, and I assure you that BP will do everything it can to repair the damage.

Me:   Thank you for being so forthcoming. The American people will be delighted to hear this. And thank you for the interview.

Mr. Hayward:   My pleasure. Is there anything else?

Me:   No, that’s all.

Mr. Hayward:   Thank you, Mr. Blevins. I hope you enjoy the rest of your stay. Please let me know if I may be of additional assistance.

Me:   I certainly will, Tony.

I returned to the Ritz, picked up my luggage, and proceeded to Gatwick.

On the return flight, I thought about my weekend in London and about the oil spill. I felt sorry for Mr. Hayward and for the little people of the Gulf. Most of all, I felt sorry for American journalism. Few journalists take time to really know their subjects. They make rash judgments and eviscerate their victims with little understanding.

Perhaps others will learn from my experience. Before meeting Tony, I had assumed he was callous. During my visit, I discovered that he is a gracious man with a big heart. In fact, I learned many things in London: that mega-corporations are warm and caring; that executives are kind and generous; and that everyone is basically good if you look deep down inside.

Oh, and truffles are really, really tasty.