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Memoir 2
Once, at the monastery in Ganges, Michigan, I found myself seated next to Marie Louise Burke. We were just sitting there waiting, and she turned to me and said, "I owe all my life in Vedanta to you." "What are you saying!"
I said. (I had always thought that I was on her list of people to
be avoided.) Well, she told me that when she came to the Temple that
night, long ago, she rang the bell at the office door, and no one
answered. She rang again, and no one answered. She told me that she
had said, "It's all dark, and they're not going to let me in. I'm going
to jump off the Bridge." Then she said, "You came and invited me to go to the lecture at the other end of the building." I was the usher at the far end of the auditorium, but I had heard the bell, and I was not going to let someone ring the bell and not get in. So I left my post and went around to the office entrance on Webster Street and found this lady standing at the door with the tears streaming down her face. I asked her if she would like to attend the lecture, and I took her around to the Filbert Street entrance. Seated there on the bench in Michigan, I told her that I had always thought that she had eye trouble. I had thought so all these years. Now all that is over,
and later, in San Francisco, I gave her the information on Swamiji
and Tesla. And I told her that she was the custodian of information on Swamiji.
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