by Edwin Black
SAN FRANCISCO CHRONICLE

James D. Mooney thrust his arm diag­o­nally, watch­ing its reflec­tion in his hotel suite mir­ror. Not quite right. He tried once again. Still not right. Was it too stiff? Too slanted? Should his palm stretch per­pen­dic­u­lar to the ceil­ing; should his arm bend at a severe angle? Or should the entire limb extend straight from shoul­der to fin­ger­tips? Should his sieg heil project enthu­si­asm or declare obe­di­ence? Never mind, it was after­noon. Time to go see Hitler.

Just the day before, May 1, 1934, under a bril­liant, cloud­less sky, Mooney, pres­i­dent of the Gen­eral Motors Over­seas Corp., climbed into his auto­mo­bile and drove toward Tem­pel­hof Field at the out­skirts of Berlin to attend yet another hyp­notic Nazi extrav­a­ganza. This one was the annual May Day fes­ti­val. [READ COMPLETE ARTICLE]