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Updated: May 22, 2025
HARBOR SALONICA, December 19th. I am a happy man tonight! And that is the first time I have been able to say so since I left you. The backbone of the trip is broken! and my face is turned West toward you and Hope. John McCutcheon gave me a farewell dinner tonight of which I got one half, as the police made me go on board at nine, although we do not sail until five in the morning.
The billiard room of the house is decorated with the large original caricatures made by McCutcheon of the Prince's stay in America. Prince and Princess Henry came out to dine on the Utowana, and Armour and the Prince went ashore to attend another Bierabend, but I dodged the smoke and beer and remained on board. Before he left the yacht, I had a talk with Prince Henry.
Murphy, a widow woman, and five children; William McCutcheon, wife, and one child; W. H. Eddy, wife, and two children; W. Graves, wife, and eight children; Jay Fosdicks, and his wife; John Denton, Noah James, Patrick Dolan, Samuel Shoemaker, C. F. Stanton, Milton Elliot, Smith, Joseph Rianhard, Augustus Spized, John Baptiste, Antoine, Herring, Hallerin, Charles Burger, and Baylie Williams, making a total of sixty-five souls, of whom ten were women, and thirty-one were children.
How I wished you were with me, you would so have loved it. The country is absolutely beautiful. We were stopped every quarter mile to show our passes and we got a working idea of how it will be. Tonight I dined with Mr. Whitlock, the minister, and John McCutcheon came in and Irving Cobb. John and I will get together and go out.
SALONICA November 30th, 1915. DEAR OLD MAN: I got here to night and found it the most picturesque spot I ever visited. I am glad I came. It was impossible to get a room but I found John McCutcheon and two other men occupying a grand suite and they have had a cot put in for me. To-morrow I hope to get a room.
At last it was Blake's turn. He, too, paused; then he, too, took the final plunge, shivered, glanced at where McCutcheon and the Englishman were talking to their porters, then turned to watch the Russian boy swing himself lithely down from the high step of the train. All about him was the consciousness of the awakening crowd, conveyed by the jostling of elbows, the deepening hum of voices.
Thomas B. Wells; Speakers' Bureau, Mrs. Mabel Russell; Congressional, Mrs. Lillian Griffin; the French, Mrs. Anna Ross Weeks; the German, Miss Catherine Dreier; the Press, Mrs. Oreola Williams Haskell; Ways and Means, Mrs. John B. McCutcheon.
McCutcheon and Bass, Hare and Shepherd are fine, but I felt like the devil, imposing on them, and working four in a room is no joke. We dine together each night. Except them, I see no one, but have been writing. Also, I have been collecting facts about Servian relief.
Barring luck, the wildebeeste would thereupon depart "wilder and beestier than ever," as John McCutcheon has it. Not at all! Michael, the Hottentot, turned the buckboard off the road, headed toward the distant quarry, and charged at full speed!
McCutcheon remarks casually that he wonders what would happen if somebody accidentally touched off those field-gun shells in the house two doors away. We suddenly remember that they are all pointed our way! The conversation seems to lull, and Mac, for the time being, loses popularity. Two-thirty p.m.
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