My own story (1934)

MY OWN STORY Of course, you know, these were the days when Mrs. Stuyvesant Fish ruled New York society with an iron hand. She was the recognized leader of the Four Hundred. Imperious, generous, brilliant herself, dullness was the one sin that she could not forgive. She demanded that those who sat about her dinner table should be funny, or handsome, scintillating, or like herself, superbly arrogant. It made no difference to her whether their families came over in the Mayflower or in the last boat to unload at Ellis Island. That memorable first evening Mrs. Fish insisted that I dine with her and her guests. There were some startled faces about her board when I was given the place of honor at table. In those days, "professionals" were not asked to dine when they came to entertain. Mrs. Fish and I became firm friends and our friendship lasted through the years until the day of her death. Never again was I a paid entertainer in her home. But I was often her guest, both in New York and Newport. Mrs. Fish was always making me handsome presents. One evjning, as I arrived, she pressed into my hand a handsome gold mesh bag with a hundreddollar bill in it. During the evening I handed the bag to Frank Crowninshield. "Here, Frank," I said, "hold this a minute, will you? And 133