Mr. Goldwyn, whom I met in New York, has telegraphed to his studio president, Mr. Lehr, and asked him to take care of me. Mr. Lehr has placed a car at my disposal all day and every day. He has introduced me to Gouverneur Morris and Rupert Hughes, but above all he has shown me a new world of which I was totally ignorant. My initiation into the realm of film production has been a revelation to me. Possibly the great big world that pays its 25 cents to see a “movie” show, understands all about it, knows what it costs to produce, appreciates the toil and the thought and the plan involved. But I did not know. Truth to tell I have seen very few films besides “The Birth of a Nation” which taught me all I know of American History. I have seen bits of plays being photographed out in the open “on location” in film language, and I had gathered an idea that to be a film actress meant that one had rather a lovely time, doing spectacular things in beautiful and interesting surroundings. I saw their lovely photographs in magazines. I knew that some of them became millionaires, and that internationally known ones were mobbed through admiration if they walked abroad. An easy path to fame, I thought, if one had the right kind of face. I really came to Los Angeles for no other reason than to have a glimpse of its amusing play-land, and it has been a revelation to me. My surprise grew as I followed Mr. Lehr from building to building. There were departments of dress-making and store-rooms full of lovely frocks and materials, some of the finest cloth of gold and brocades of Italian weaving. There were cassones containing real sables and other furs, tailors, hair-dressers, manicurists, carpenters and barbers were all part of the organization, and a canteen that recalled to my mind the Communist restaurants of Moscow, but where, unlike Moscow, I was able to get an ice cream soda at almost any time of the day! There were a bewilderment of storehouses, a sort of dreamland full of everything and anything that anyone could want in a hurry. Tin tacks and paste, Florentine shrines and Henry II chairs (so efficiently home-made as to perplex an antiquary!), canary birds in cages, Buddhas, invalid crutches and Persian carpets. Stores and stores full of what they called “props” which I would gladly have looted. As for the “Studios” there were three or more and they looked like the familiar “orangerie” of some old country estate, amid trim lawns, such as I thought only England could boast.