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286 THIS DIFFICULT INDIVIDUAL
yet had no intention of drinking the cup of hemlock which his fellow
citizens had offered him. Dorothy Pound was also as apt and
self-effacing as a professor's wife, as she poured tea, murmured
"Shush" when the bluejays became too noisy, and produced little
paper bags for the shells of hard-boiled eggs, so that we should not
litter the lawn.
I never failed to experience a thrill of excitement and anticipation
as I disembarked from the bus and strode across the broad
campus of St. Elizabeths. Despite the elevation, the ground was
often swampy, but I preferred crossing it to following the more
circuitous route along the concrete walk. If it were a summer's
day, I knew that Ezra and his wife would be waiting on the lawn,
near a clump of bushes that partially shielded them from the buildings.
After shaking hands with them, I would go on to the administration
building to report and perhaps bring back a Coca Cola
from the machine or a cup of coffee for Ezra and his wife.
When I had returned, Ezra would be occupied with the first
business of the day, my lunch. My writings had not as yet brought
in a financial return, and Ezra was pleased to be able to renew his
lifelong role of assisting the careers of writers and artists, even
while locked up by his government. He brought down leftover
hard-boiled eggs, salami and other food, some of which was
slightly stale, but under the circumstances most of it was rather
good. As someone has said, "Americans are the greatest consumers
of stale food in the world." Certainly I have consumed my
share of it.
There was a plentiful supply of dry white bread, much better
than that produced by our commercial bakeries; tea, which had
been stored in mayonnaise bottles; and the hospital doughnuts,
which also were good.
Later, we would enjoy for dessert some of the specialties that
had arrived from his admirers in various parts of the world. Although
there was never a flood of these delicacies, they arrived
steadily, so that there would often be a choice between a Port du
Salut from a Trappist monastery in Canada, a banana sweet from
the Philippines, or ginger from Hong Kong. Edith Hamilton always
brought out a box of exquisite chocolates on her visits, which
were far too infrequent. They were in a plain box, and after