Upon the following morning I went to that old building at Number Eleven Broadway. There in a little room in the offices of the Imperial German Consulate began a series of meetings that were designed to bear fruit of the greatest consequences to the United States—that would, had they been successful, have made American neutrality a lie and would have perhaps drawn the United States into a serious conflict with England, if not into actual war. I remember von Papen’s enthusiasm as he outlined the general program to me. “It was merely a question of tying their hands”—that was the burden of his statements, time and again. We could hope for nothing from American neutrality; it was a fraud, a deception. Washington could not see the German viewpoint at all. Everything was done to favor England. Why, the entire country was supporting the allies—the government, the press, the people—all of them! Nowhere was there a good word for Germany. And that in spite of the excellent propaganda that Germany was conducting. I remember that the failure of German propaganda was an especially sore spot with him. “How about the German-Americans?” I asked him upon one occasion. He made a sound that was between a grunt and a cough. “I am attending to them,” was his reply. I did not understand what he meant until much later. We talked much of American participation in the war in those days. Papen was convinced that it would come sooner or later; and certainly upon the side of the Entente—unless the German-Americans could be brought into line. They were being attended to, he would repeat, but meantime it was necessary for us to decide upon some immediate action. Of course there was Mexico to be considered. It was too bad that Huerta had fallen. What did I think of Villa? Could he be persuaded to cause a diversion if the United States abandoned its neutrality? I told him that I thought it very unlikely. “He is not very friendly toward Germans,” I said, “and he appreciates the importance of keeping on good terms with the United States. No, I don’t think you can reach him—now. Later on, he may take a different attitude—when we have had a few more victories.” Von Papen nodded. I was probably right, he thought. We must show these ignorant people how powerful the Germans were. It would have a great moral effect. But that was for the future. Meantime what did I think of this letter as a suggestion for possible immediate action? “This letter” was from a man named Schumacher, who lived in Oregon, at Eden Bower Farm. He had written to the Embassy, suggesting that we secretly fit out motor boats armed with machine guns, and using Buffalo, Detroit, Cleveland and Chicago as bases, make raids upon Canadian cities and towns on the Great Lakes.