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When I came to New York to study with Adolph Weiss
and Henry Cowell, I took a job in the Brooklyn
YWCA washing walls. There was one other
wall-washer. He was more experienced than I.
He told me how many walls to wash per day.
In this way he checked my original
enthusiasm, with the result that I spent a great
deal of time simply reading the old newspapers
which I used to protect the floors. Thus I
had always to be, so to speak, on my toes,
ready to resume scrubbing the moment I heard
the housekeeper approaching. One room
finished, I was to go to the next, but
before entering any room I was to look in the
keyhole to see whether the occupant’s key was in it
on the inside. If I saw no key, I was
to assume the room empty, go in, and set
to work. One morning, called to the
office, I was told I had been accused of
peeking through the keyholes. I no sooner
began to defend myself than I was interrupted.
The housekeeper said that each year the
wall-washer, no matter who he was, was
so accused, always by the same lady.
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