IV
In the morning Eustace and I wrote President Carranza a friendly little note, requesting an interview. Then we set out to see the town.
It proved surprisingly attractive by daylight—one of the most ornate in the Western Hemisphere outside of Argentina or Brazil. If it lacked the impressive solidity of an American city, and failed to startle with giant sky-scrapers, it undoubtedly surpassed New York or any other Yankee metropolis—including Washington—in the beauty of its parks and boulevards.
MEXICO CITY, ONE OF THE MOST ORNATE CAPITALS IN THE WESTERN HEMISPHERE, SOMEWHAT RESEMBLED PARIS
Superficially it suggested Paris. Along the streets of its business section the buildings, all of the same height of three or four stories, were of European architecture. Its avenues and gardens, with their numerous statues and monuments, were distinctly French. There was a suggestion also of other lands. There were German beer halls and rathskellers, dignified English banks, Italian restaurants, and Japanese curio shops. There was even the American quick-lunch counter where a darky from Alabama asked abruptly, “What’s yours, boss?” and shouted “One ham sandwich!” through a wall-opening to a white-capped cook. But French window-displays of modes and perfumery predominated, and combining with the architecture, gave the city the general aspect of Paris.