My Library

We didn't get anywhere. In the end Buell took her cane and painfully wobbled to make us stiff drinks in one of her beautiful crystal glasses which once had been owned by some Bishop or another. "Well," Buell finally said. "We can't abort the fund raising now. You think your way through this." "Buell," I replied, "if one word of this leaks out my name is dung. I'm very much honored, but there's a real problem here. "You must promise me NOT to leak this. It's the same as an artist buying his way into a gallery and paying for his own exhibitions. No one ever takes them seriously after that. As to going independent, I'd have to be able to guarantee some kind of product -- and I don't know of any such critter yet." "Having money is power, Ingo." "No. It's who has CONTROL of the money which is power. Let's wait until we see how the formal experiments turn out. Perhaps a way of some kind will be indicated by then." Eventually, we hugged and made up. But we didn't speak on the telephone for about two weeks. I had to repeat this debate with the Wingates, the Bennitts and with Dr. Kinzel -- and eventually with Mrs. Lucille Kahn, and the Brods. Al Brod thought I was a lunatic. Zelda Dearest was the only one who really understood. "If there's money available," she said, "others will kill to get their hands on it."