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out there. The last time I saw him was in the Hotel California in Paris, and he was on his way to Moscow, or so he told me. I don't know whether he went or not. That was what he told me when we met by accident in the big open part of the Hotel California. That was in .45.

I don't remember having any particular conversation with Bridges, except that he was well satisfied with svery-thing. He thought the hiring halls were fine and was somewhat astonished when I told him that I didn't think they were fine. I did say that it was an improvement over the shape-up, but I certainly thought they ought to run things better - cleaner, more orderly and more civilized. I told him that if they had agreed to let the employment service run it, it would have been a nice businesslike thing. He smiled and said, “Yes, but the union wouldn't have had any look-in on it.” That, of course, was true. It wouldn't have had any special favors. One saw that he was a sophisticated person.

By this time there had been considerable underground talk about Bridges being a Red, or a Bolshevik, or something else. I couldn't make it out from the police reports, although the immigration people told me that the police detectives had told them that they were sure that he was mixed up in one of these radical groups that met at some