(See front cover)
Against the curving white wall of President Roosevelt's study on the second floor of the White House stands a big black leather couch. It is comfortably low and squashy, holds four grown men. Many long sittings have worn off most of its shine. Before it on the floor lies a tiger- skin rug and within easy reach is a pedestal ashtray. The couch's deep easy pitch not only relaxes the body but loosens the tongue to friendly informal talk. If the World Economic Conference, opening in London June 12, proves a success, it will be due in no small measure to last week's discussions between President Roosevelt and his distinguished visitors on this White House couch.
On it James Ramsay MacDonald, Prime Minister of Great Britain and First Lord of the Treasury, let himself go limp and restful as he and the President viewed and reviewed the economic distress of the world, tried to bring into common focus War Debts, armaments, tariff barriers, trade restrictions, silver, currency. On it Edouard Herriot, France's chunky special envoy who quickly tires of standing, eased his short legs while he discussed his country's need for political security with a U. S. President whose good French made M. Herriot blush for his bad Eng- lish. On it sat large-framed Richard Bedford Bennett, Prime Minister of Canada, whose eagerness to strike a quick trade & tariff bargain with the U. S. had to be restrained by President Roosevelt. On it next week were to sit Guido Jung, Italy's Minister of Finance, on his way to the U. S. aboard the Conte di Savoia as Premier Mussolini's personal representative, and Hjalmar Schacht. president of the German Reichsbank whom Dictator Hitler had dispatched to Washington.
Not actually on the couch during the White House talks, but sitting close by in the oval study was generally to be found last week a stocky, square-shouldered man of 46. Grey streaks his thin dark hair above a domed forehead. His nose is long and straight between round, ruddy cheeks, over a full-sized chin and small mouth. Mostly he listened but when he did speak between puffs of a cigaret, his voice was pleasantly rich and low. almost a diffident drawl. He was Raymond Moley. Officially he was there as an Assistant Secretary of State. Personally he was there because, as head of the "Brain Trust," he is President Roosevelt's closest, most intimate adviser. The President calls him "Ray." He calls the President "Governor." His job was not only to stoke the discussions with facts & figures but also to note and catalog each foreign viewpoint as it was expounded by one statesman after another from the black couch.