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Berries in the Fall. Albert Lasker, himself a cancer victim, died 13 years' ago at 73. But Mary kept moving, has involved herself in a dazzling variety of civic ventures. She makes her headquarters in a narrow, 71-story town house on Manhattan's fashionable Beekman Place. White, even to the furniture and the rugs on the floor, is the background -her paintings. There is a Monet a Picasso, a Lautrec. Five Matisses hang in the dining room; Van Gogh's Zouave over the living room couch faces a Renoir girl in a boat over the fireplace.
Flowers and leaves abound, in big bowls, little vases, jars. On shelves and tables are figurines and archaeologi cal finds, Chinese porcelain, and affectionately inscribed photographs of the great.
In Beekman Place or at her rambling country house near Amenia, N.Y., Mary Lasker is an elegant hostess, moves purposefully through her rooms, rapid-firing opinions and prodding listeners' attention with a frequent "Don't you agree?" or "Don't you think so?" Again and again she reverts to her sense of urgency about the need for more flowers and plants. "Urban renewers don't seem to realize that people need space for trees and shrubs. They need flowers in the spring and berries in the fall it reassures and comforts them. Central Park should have thousands of cherry trees, and there aren't enough fountains We need an atomic reactor to desalt our sea water so that we can use more water for civic projects. And to get the kind of landscaping we need across the land, vast new nurseries will have to be established for mass plantings. There is so much to be done!"