The Washington times., 1937-12-21

SOlueuOW L JuSG Cdu hhoCI
evades me. Wonder what's
Now I've got it! I know
where the trouble lies! Rob-
inson told me about his col
lection of French moderns.
All Hollywood had told me
about that million dollars
worth of paintings. But l
didn't get to see them. His
home, the main drawing room
with those priceless works Of
art, would tell me more about
Robinson than anything else.
If I could only be in that
room for a few minutes I
could bring my interview,
my impressions of the man,
to focal point. Then the
story would be easy.
Perhaps tomorrow Robin
son will take me to see the
paintings. But as it IS, I'm
dead tired. I'm too done-out
to worry any more. I'm 60
ing to bed.
7 FELL off to sleep thinking
Z about Lust for Life" in
which rving Stone gives us such
a vivid picture of the painters
known as the French modernS.
So it was their paintings which
hung in Robinson's drawing
room!
How long I slept I don't
know, but I awakened with a
start, feeling a driving need to
60 Immediately to Robinson'S
house. I told myself that it was
foolish, ridiculous. But the more
I reasoned against going the
faster I dressed to go. I can't
recall exactly what I had on
I think it was a pair of slackS;
however, I do remember that I
was nearly running as I went
through the hotel lobby.
Finds Gate Locked
The stars home wasn't far
from the hotel. I walked fast,
with a foreign voice whispering
In my ear. Hurry, hurry! It's
nearly 10 o'clock"
Soon I arrived at Robinson's
gate. But it was locked. What
to do now? AS I stood there, a
sense of confusion and futility
overcoming me, I realized that
a man was standing near watch
ing me. For a second fear petri-
fled me into immobility, but I
snapped out of it when he
smiled, and removed his funny
fur cap in a way characteristic
to peasants. He said:
''The gate is locked. But it will
be opened to us at II o'clock.
We are all down at the Restau-
rant Norvins awaiting the hour.
Will you join us?"
He was gaunt, strange looking,
but his manner and voice were
kindly. It was all so weird! Me
getting out of bed to go to Rob-
inson's house! A stranger ac-
costing me at the gate. What
did it mean? Then. thinking
Anything can happen in Holly
wood I said:
But 7 don't know you. 1t
wouldn't be conventional"
''Pn1 Van GOgh"
Eyes, you know me-" he an
swered. I'm Vincent Van Gogh,
the painter"
you can't be. Vincent Van
Gogh died in 1890. In Aubers."
Eyes, I know. Please come
with me. Then you will under
stand"
With my white slacks flapping
IN the night breeze of Beverly
Hills, I went along with Van
Gogh. I was hard pressed to
keep up with his fast, jerky
step. AS we closed the door Of
the little restaurant a group of
men gathered about a table put
their glasses down and rose to
their feet.
"Ah!" said a huge and very
ugly man, 'I see you found her"
Eyes. Locked out at the
gate. I promised that we would
take her in with us"
I noticed that one of the men
was a cripple, so I asked them
please to sit down.
First, let me introduce our
little group" said Van Gogh.
''This is Paul Cezanne. And this,
Georges Seurat. Here is Paul
Gauguin" (the one who had first
spoken when we came in the
door). "And this is Henri Tou-
1ouse-Lautrec. And Pierre
Etjenne Rousseau"
We murmured words of greet
ing while Van Gogh beloved
"Garcon! A sherry"
Then we all sat down. They
seemed jolly, happy. I was CON-
pletely at sea. Please" I
begged, "tell me what this is
all about. know you all were
supposed to be a little fetched
IN the haid'-am I crazy too?"