We use Optical Character Recognition (OCR) during our scanning and processing workflow to make the content of each page searchable. You can view the automatically generated text below as well as copy and paste individual pieces of text to quote in your own work.
Text recognition is never 100% accurate. Many parts of the scanned page may not be reflected in the OCR text output, including: images, page layout, certain fonts or handwriting.
228 IT TOOK NINE TAILORS
be finished, I asked if Mr. Benson, their cutter, could come to Paris with the suits and give me a final fitting there. It was not uncommon at that time for London shops to do this, and they readily agreed.
Two weeks later I received a telegram in Paris to the effect that Mr. Benson, with an assistant, would arrive at a certain hour on a certain day to complete the fitting of my clothes. So on that day I waited in my rooms at the Ritz for Mr. Benson to appear. Time went by and no Mr. Benson. Finally the phone rang. It was Benson.
"Mr. Menjou, I am down at the Gare St. Lazarre with your clothes in a trunk, but they will not let me in. They won't give me a temporary entry visa."
I called the United States Embassy and talked to the commercial attache. He sent his assistant over to help me out. We got on the phone and talked to the customs officers, the police, and the stationmaster at the Gare St. Lazarre. There was never such a hullabaloo over four suits of clothes. One would have thought that we were trying to smuggle in a trunkful of diamonds.
At last the assistant from the Embassy, Verree, and I went down to the railroad station to try to straighten matters out. I was very upset by this time. For years France had been claiming me as its own— X artiste magnifique frangais— and now I couldn't get four suits through customs for a quick fitting.
We went to the office of the chef de gate. There we found Mr. Benson, his assistant, the douanier, and the chef himself. We had another voluble exchange of French, but to no avail. Mr. Benson and the clothes could not be allowed to leave the customs office.
"You seem to believe, monsieur," I said, "that I am trying to smuggle four suits of clothes into France. But I will prove to you that I am not!" With that I took off my coat and my waistcoat and started to remove my trousers.
"What are you doing, Adolphe?" demanded Verree.
"I'm going to have my clothes fitted right here," I answered. "Camera! Action! Mr. Benson, open the trunk and go to work."