Charles E. Burchfield, Journals , January 12, 1961

Jan. 12 – Thursday

In the middle of the night, we both agreed we had had enough, we decided to see if we could get seats on a plane today. I called them soon after we were up, and got seats on the 6:45.

To the gallery, where almost at once we meet Mrs. Schiott (who invited us to lunch) and a friend Mrs. Kopp (?).

Later we taxied out to meet them at Mrs. S son’s apartment far out on the east side over-looking the East River an interesting view. Mrs. S’s son is a director, engaged in getting ready a new show. A good lunch, and generally a good conversation; but we were both of us puzzled by something most disturbing in Mrs. S’s attitude or outlook on life (she was still bitter about our (U.S.) forcing Norway & England to pay their war debts) and more concerned about the world situation –  (word unintelligible) a woman her age should be – a sort of let-down that we could not analyze.

To gallery until time to leave for the air terminal. There we learned that a woman (whom we met – Mrs. Lockwood formerly at Vassar) had just bought the “Sultry Moon” as casually as I would buy a record.

 A young man from some car rental company, who wanted me to do a Christmas picture. It turned out that they wanted to buy my skill and reputation – The picture “had to be of a New England type house with several cars around it”. Logical enough for them, but I had to decline. He seemed quite hostile from then on.

I kept going back again and again for one “last look” at the show: Probably I may never see any of them again.

As we left we both realized together what a jewel we had in John as a dealer.

To the air-terminal where we checked in. We both found we were “dying” of thirst. So to a coffee-shop where we ordered large glasses of orange-juice (that was Bertha’s inspiration) – so  delightful we ordered second ones, and when I said we were completely dry, the counter-man gave us glasses of water, all of which we downed, taking our Dramamine at the last.

A long ride in darkness over rough roads to La Guardia airport – There we learned that our plane would not leave until 7:30, we bought a magazine and newspaper and decided to sit it out right there. I was sweating profusely and could not seem to find the right spot – first I was too warm then too cold. As the time for our belated departure neared we went out towards our gate to see if it had been called yet – it had not, and as we turned to come back to the waiting room, whom should we meet but Elizabeth and Pit Petri.  Mrs. P at once took charge of us, she must carry Bertha’s suit-case etc. – “Did we see the Guggenheim Museum?” and even though we said we had and were delighted with it, she nevertheless must tell us what was good about it, with the usual dramatic pauses, with eyes closed (head inclined upward) and hands out-spread dripping with eloquence. A confused jargon proceeded from the loud-speakers and Mr. P said he would go to the gate and see if our plane was ready for boarding and if so, we were to watch for his signal. However Mrs. P kept on chattering – “Truscott Lane is just as easy to get to as N.Y. – How long is it since you have seen a Christmas Tree with real candles? We still have ours up you must come and see it – you will come won’t you” – I was so irritated, and bereft of plausible reasons at the moment, all I could achieve was a rather rude shrug of my shoulders and a grunted “Oh…” at this point Mr. P. came back in, exasperated because he had signaled us and none of us were even looking his way. Mrs. P. insisted on holding B’s bag and walking with me. I knew she was determined to sit with me and I was just as determined that Bertha & I were going to sit together, as I knew sitting with him, even though he is a charming man, would be as difficult for her, trying to find things to talk about, as it would be for me to sit with Mrs. P. When we got on the plane, Bertha sat at once in a convenient location and I hopped in beside her. There was nothing left for the Petris to do but sit together opposite of us, Mrs. P on the aisle however. But conversation was difficult so for the most part we sat in peace.

The view of the lighted city was breath-taking – like strings of jewels on black velvet – a cold cut supper, but very good.

At the Buffalo airport the Petri’s continued to possess us (Bertha said she heard Mrs. P tell the hostesses as we got off – that’s the famous artist and his wife). They must get us a taxi as though we were helpless. But finally on our way to Gardenville .

How good it was to be home again – But we had a sense of “mission accomplished” and that it had been a perfect trip in every way; the show a complete success with all but one of the pictures sold – and we decided that god has been wonderfully good to us.  

Charles E. Burchfield, January 12, 1961