Hitler’s secretary, a nervous little man who clattered like a teletype, introduced me. Herr Hitler paced back and forth in an almost unfurnished room. He wore black, which set off rosy cheeks against a dead white face. A lock of hair over his forehead frequently got in his way and he pushed it carefully aside. In civilian clothes he appeared far slimmer than in pictures in uniform.

The secretary read to him from my list of questions. None of them was particularly provocative. Hitler answered like a man who has lost all conversational tones. Everything was double or triple forte except the greeting and the farewell. Er brillt, as the Germans say.

“A Fascist government in France and a Nazi government in Germany  – then the two nations would understand each other. . . .

“The Jews? Can you shoot flies with machine guns? By the way, you aren’t Jewish, are you? Your name is the same as that of the Jew police commissioner here. . . .

“Put the unemployed on the marginal land. . . .

“Between Germany and the United States there should be nothing but increasingly good relations. . . .”

The secretary said softly, “That was your last question.”

“Thank you.”

“Auf wiedersehen!”

I added. “I shall write this and send it over for your signature.”

“Certainly. With pleasure.”

I sent a copy of the interview and felt satisfied. Hitler had said nothing startling but it was the first interview he had given for many months.

Four hours later a messenger brought me an envelope. In it were the pages of the interview. Every line and every paragraph was crossed out, not neatly but savagely, with many blurs and blots. One line remained: “Between Germany and the United States there should be nothing but increasingly good relations.” Signed, Adolf Hitler. For that astounding fact I had paid two hundred marks. Possibly some of the things said did look brusque on paper but I had written them as they were spoken.

I wrote Herr Hitler a note, stating that, having paid money for an interview, I should like one worth printing.

The answer to that note came fast. In an hour the toughest looking gentleman I have ever seen was in my room, backed by five others who looked as if their faces had been stepped on and they had enjoyed the experience. The leader was Ernst Roehm (shot in the “blood purge” in 1934).

“What is this insulting note?” Roehm snarled. “What do you mean, you paid for an interview?”

I explained.

“Quatsch! Herr Hitler does not sell interviews like a Jewish scientist. Give me that receipt.” He tossed two hundred marks on the table. “There is your money. That is all. There will be no interview.”

He called me the next day. “That receipt is a forgery. There is no record of such a payment and no one named Schmertz. Please return the money I gave you yesterday to the Kaiserhof. You must get your money back from Brown.”

I wanted very much to see Brown. None of the correspondents had seen him. No one knew where he lived. He had mentioned a café near Potsdamerplatz that he liked, and I dropped in there each day at five. After a week I found him, discussing politics with three friends.

He smiled when he saw me. “Sit down. Here are three very important people you ought to know. Tell me, did you have your interview?”

“Yes, I had it. And I want two hundred marks back.”

The color left his face and it was white as lard. I told him what had happened.

“My God, this is awful. I thought everything would be all right. I needed that money for a lady friend, you understand. No one in Berlin would ever give me fifty dollars. I’ll pay it back somehow.”

“Why didn’t you ask me for fifty dollars to arrange it?”

“I’d never ask a thing like that from a fellow-American.” His hands were twitching and his long white fingers fluttered like castanets. “This is the first time – I’ll try to arrange another interview. Or is there anybody else you’d like to meet?” He piled apology on apology. Then he smiled. “Come over to the table and meet a man you ought to know, formerly first secretary of the German embassy in Paris.”

I sent two hundred marks, with a note of apology, to the Kaiserhof the next day.

* * *