Mrs. Archibald Roosevelt, who was just killed in an automobile accident in New York City – she would come home once a month. This was always a problem with her family – never her husband, but her children and in-laws. One day she said to me, “My son has returned from Egypt, and he has an enormous beard, and I am so ashamed to walk down the street with him.” Here was this young, good-looking lad – now, this was before the hippies when people began to grow long hair and beards. He was unique. So, I said, “Now, Mrs. Roosevelt, you know what a kiss of your son would be like without the beard, don’t you?” “Oh, yes,” she said. “Well, kiss him and he doesn’t have a beard. Put your arms around him, and kiss your son, and see the nice, smooth skin and feel it.” “Well,” she said, “I’ll do it.” Well, she never once told me, but because of her position in the world, I read in the morning paper – on a Monday morning. Here was this big spread of a wedding. He got married on Sunday, a smooth-skinned lad, Mrs. Roosevelt, Archie Roosevelt, the bride – the whole gang of them. When she came the next time, I said, “You know, your son has shaved his beard.” She said, “Yes. Do you know why? You know, he married a girl who disliked it. Because she completely disliked it, he shaved it off.” I said, “So that’s why it happened? Tell me, Mrs. Roosevelt, did you do what I asked you to do?” and I reminded her of what I had asked. She said, “Oh, yes, I did that, but why he did it was the girl.” You see, they always go back to the means employed. The girl could have loved him just as much with the beard, but she had to initiate the drive. He shaved it off, and then the mother gave full credit to the girl.72 ¶18