George goes back to the "pen."
Chuck Reisner, who played the big bully in "The Kid," called the next day. He wants to go to Europe. Why? He doesn't know. He is emotional and sensational. He is a pugilist and a song writer. A civil soldier of fortune. He doesn't like New York and thinks he wants to get back to California at once.
We have breakfast together. It is a delightful meal because it is so different from my usual lonely breakfast. Chuck goes on at a great rate and succeeds in working up his own emotions until there are tears in his eyes.
I promise him all sorts of things to get rid of him. He knows it and tells me so. We understand each other very well. I promise him an engagement. Tell him he can always get a job with me if he doesn't want too much money.
He is indignant at some press notices that have appeared about me and wants to go down to newspaper row and kill a few reporters. He fathers, mothers me in his rough way.
We talk about everybody's ingratitude for what he and I have done for people. We have a mutual-admiration convention. Why aren't we appreciated more? We are both sour on the world and its hypocrisies. It's a great little game panning the world so long as you don't let your sessions get too long or too serious.
I had a luncheon engagement at the Coffee House Club with Frank Crowninshield, and we talked over the arrangements of a dinner which I am giving to a few intimate friends. Frank is my social mentor, though I care little about society in the general acceptance of the term. We arranged for a table at the Elysée Café and it was to be a mixed party.
Among the guests were Max Eastman, Harrison Rhodes, Edward Knoblock, Mme. Maeterlinck, Alexander Woolcott, Douglas Fairbanks and Mary, Heywood Broun, Rita Weiman, and Neysa McMein, a most charming girl for whom I am posing.
Frank Harris and Waldo Frank were invited, but were unable to attend. Perhaps there were others, but I can't remember, and I am sure they will forgive me if I have neglected to mention them. I am always confused about parties and arrangements.
The last minute sets me wild. I am a very bad organiser. I am always leaving everything until the last minute, and as a rule no one shows up.