Edward & Wallis

Reading LIFE in 1945 in the Bahamas, the Duke of Windsor was impressed by the understanding of Britain shown in a series about his old friend, Winston Churchill. The Duke had a mutual friend call up Charles J. V. Murphy, now a LIFE staff writer, a big, ducal-looking Bostonian who had written the article (with John Davenport). The friend's suggestion: the Duke of Windsor and Reporter Murphy ought to know each other because "the Duke is thinking of doing some writing himself." The result of the delayed meeting (Murphy first spent six months in the Pacific as a war correspondent) was a three-part story, written by the Duke and edited by Murphy, on "The Education of a Prince." It was published in LIFE in December 1947.

This week LIFE began publication of the sequel, "A King's Story," by the Duke of Windsor. In the memorable four-part, 35,000-word account of the making and unmaking of a king, he tells for the first time how and why Edward VIII gave up his throne for "the woman I love." (The story is appearing in the London Sunday Express and papers in 29 other countries, but not in any U.S. paper.)

The Duke spent three years on the memoirs. As he acknowledges in his foreword, Charlie Murphy was his collaborator most of the time, prodding, suggesting, editing and cajoling, in Paris and at Cap d'Antibes. To help refresh Windsor's memory, Murphy supplied him with digests of diaries, court calendars, newspaper clippings, books and interviews with other actors in the royal drama. (The Duke himself had saved a bale of state and unofficial papers and albums of his own photographs of the historic days.) Then, while a secretary recorded every word, the Duke reminisced.

With uncompromising pride of authorship, Windsor then rewrote the typescript drafts, fiddling endlessly with every word, frequently chucking out sentences or words suggested by Murphy because "I don't talk like that." The Duke worked in his shirtsleeves ("I can't think in my coat"), with six pipes close at hand. At the start, he rarely settled down to work until 11:30 a.m., and he generally broke; up the afternoon for such engagements as golf with Leopold of the Belgians. At the end, he was on a strict 9-to-6 regimen.

Banalities & Black Bottoms. The engrossing story begins with the Prince of Wales's casual classes in kingship and a talk about the facts of royal life with his father (said George V: "Always remember . . . who you are"). But the Prince's "mature development" was left pretty much to chance. One of the only positive pieces of advice came from an old courtier who observed: "Only two rules really count. Never miss an opportunity to relieve yourself; never miss a chance to sit down."* The Prince's first important royal job was an exciting and educational 150,000-mile road show as "Britain's Best Salesman." "The generous applause that greeted my hopeful banalities" caused him to marvel "at the tolerance with which the world's most democratic people continued to view its princes."

Nevertheless, the heir apparent also got his first uneasy sense of "unconscious rebellion against my position. That is what comes, I suppose, of sending an impressionable prince to school" (Royal Naval College and Oxford). He admitted to himself that he was happier amid the "contrast and commotion" of the bright magic world of the '20s than in the sheltered "order and perfection" of his father's court. With good grace the Prince performed the required round of royal ceremonials, but he had more fun flying in his own plane, riding in steeplechases, and cultivating a taste for bathtub gin, American slang and the Black Bottom. Young David, as he was and still is called by his intimates, further distressed George V (whose letters to the Prince were signed "yr. devoted Papa") by his determination "under no circumstances to contract a loveless marriage."

Backtalk & Business. His meeting with Wallis Warfield Simpson, at a house party, was hardly love at first sight. But later, visiting Mrs. Simpson's London salon, the Prince was impressed by her ease amid all the heady talk, and by her forthright backtalk ("One of the happier outcomes of the events of 1776").

Edward VIII had hardly been proclaimed King (with Wallis at his side at St. James's Palace as heralds boomed out the tidings) before he realized that "the King business" had its drawbacks. Item: he could not even take a walk in the rain because it brought criticism from those who thought a king should not get his feet wet. There were more important drawbacks. He had his first foreboding interviews about Mrs. Simpson with the Archbishop of Canterbury and with Prime Minister Stanley Baldwin. Windsor lifts the curtain on the intrigue-packed scenes when Baldwin tells Edward that the Empire will not stand for a marriage to Mrs. Simpson. At the end comes the ringing abdication speech ("At long last . . ."), Contrary to reports once generally accepted (TIME, Jan. 2), the Duke insists that he wrote the speech himself, although he gives Winston Churchill full credit for turning several phrases.

After three years of phrase-turning, Windsor has no illusions about the difficulties of the job. To brother Bertie (George VI), he confided that writing was "the hardest thing I have ever tackled"--including the King business.

*A paraphrase, in part, of a remark by the first Duke of Wellington, who advised the son of another peer: "Never miss a chance to pass water; I never do."

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