Mr. Wiley sent his secretary and his car to convey me to the
TIMES office. There in the building we lunched, and I was the
only woman with seven men, all of them interesting. (An improvement on
Fifth Avenue with seven women!) Mr. Miller, Mr. Ochs, Mr. Ogden, and
so on, it was rather alarming, but they gave me orchids. I was asked a
good many questions about Russia, some of them economic, which I longed
to be able to answer, and cursed my mind for not working on those
lines. I was told that Russia had nothing to trade with, a limited
supply of gold; furs that were motheaten, grain that was rotten,
aluminium that was full of alloy. I could not dispute these assertions,
knowing nothing about it, but I had to laugh, it seemed to end the
argument! After lunch I was shown the machinery which is too marvelous
and complicated for words. I don’t see how a newspaper ever gets
printed in a day. Upstairs in the illustrating part, I caught sight of
myself on a copper plate. I had not expected this. They printed one
for me, and it came out all folded and still hot at the other end. Too
marvelous!
I dined at a big dinner given for me at the Coffee House Club by
Mr. Crowninshield and Mr. Condé Nast. I sat next to Paul Manship,
whose work I have known for some time. Mr. Bullitt and Mrs. Whitney,
the sculptor, sat opposite. Maxine Eliott was at my table, and Mr.
Harrison Rhodes, the writer, who has been described to me as “precieux”
but I like him. He is more European than anyone I have met. We were
four big tables full, and there were speeches after. Mr. Crowninshield
in an even quiet voice was very funny.
Lopokova, the exquisite little Russian dancer whom London adores, spoke
in Russian. She said she believed in Russia and believed in me! After
dinner they played charades. Mr. Crowninshield and I did Trotzky. It
was to be in three acts. First, I was to be a trotting horse, and he
driving me. Second, we were to ski, and fall down. Third, he was to
harangue the Red Army and I was to throw my arms round his neck and
passionately embrace him, but Maxine guessed it at the second act, so
Mr. Crowninshield was done out of his Trotzky kiss.