Monday, Jul. 26, 1954

"Yes," Miss Fineholt said brightly. "The fun of this work is seeing what material comes in . . . "

--MELVILLE GOODWIN, USA.

BY JOHN P. MARQUAND

For the cover story on Novelist John P. Marquand (TIME, March 7, 1949), Books Editor Max Gissen and Researcher Ruth Mehrtens spent days interviewing their subject, even following him on a trip to the Bahamas to finish their research. Later, after the novel Melville Goodwin, USA was published, Marquand made a confession to Gissen. He had used them as an inspiration for his characters Phil Bentley and Myra Fineholt, the writer-researcher team in his novel. However, Marquand assured Gissen that Ruth Mehrtens was not at all like his researcher Myra Fineholt. "Miss Mehrtens," he said, "is a charming girl."

Working now as one of TIME's correspondents in our Chicago office, Ruth Mehrtens would agree with Marquand's Myra Fineholt on one point--the fun of her work is seeing what material comes in. Ruth has been a correspondent in the Chicago bureau since January 1951. A Smith College graduate, she started with TIME as a researcher in 1946, worked in almost every section of the magazine before she was asked if she would like to be a writer. Her name was switched to the "Contributing Editors" slot on the masthead and there she stayed--writing Foreign News, later Canadian and Latin American news--until she decided to round out her career by being a TIME reporter.

In Chicago, "the material that comes in" is often varied. In one week, for example, Ruth covered the New England Opera Theater's one-night stand in Terre Haute, Ind. Two days later she reported the visit of Greece's King Paul to a "typical Illinois farm" (TIME, Nov. 16). During the royal visit to the farm, reporters were not allowed to follow King Paul into the house. Ruth noticed that neighbor women who had come to help prepare the King's dinner were going in the back door. She followed the ladies inside. Before she could find an apron, however, a policeman spotted the undisguised reporter and hustled her outside. Later, after talking with farmers' wives and children, she was able to write a lively story of the day's visit.

The job of correspondent, Ruth finds, has its moments of pleasant feminine gossip. "Some of my more delightful coffee sessions: with former Labor Secretary Frances Perkins, who claimed that married women in business were more neurotic than single women; with Singer Joni James, about how much you have to spend on clothes when you're successful (plenty); and with Bobo Rockefeller, when I got her favorite standby recipe for unexpected guests: 'Beef Stroganoff with lots of cream and butter.' "

After a recent interview-luncheon for a story on Etiquette Expert Amy Vanderbilt (TIME, July 5), Vanderbilt and Mehrtens found themselves at an impasse: both insisted on paying for the meal. Says Ruth: "I won that point of etiquette. I pointed out that after all she was my guest."

Men are now accustomed to women reporters, says Ruth, but "I remember once, on a farm-implement story, when my source seemed a little baffled to see a girl on a plowman's errand." However, after the story appeared there came a nice note from the baffled source.

And there was the time when a good story led to a memorable evening. It was while she was researching the story on Conductor Fritz Reiner (TIME, Jan. 4). Since the orchestra rehearsal had run overtime, Reiner suggested that he and Reporter Mehrtens finish the interview at his apartment, where his wife was waiting with some sandwiches. "We adjourned," says Ruth, "and midway through the interview in came Impresario Sol Hurok. So of course we all had to have steak and claret. When I protested that I had no intention of staying for dinner, Mr. Reiner's comment was: 'That isn't the question. The question is: do you take your steak rare or well done?' I had watched the orchestra rehearse all afternoon. I really felt like a delinquent violinist myself when I tried to stop eating halfway through that enormous rare steak. The Maestro noticed, pointed an imperious finger at my plate and snapped: 'Eat your steak.'

"Needless to say," says Ruth meekly, "I finished the steak."

Cordially yours,

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