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conscious of national customs or common courtesies in any of the countries she visited,” Genora wrote to Sol. One thing that both amused and disturbed Genora on this trip was when she took a bus to various destinations and was constantly asked if she were French, Italian, or Australian. When she told her inquisitors that she was American, they didn’t believe her because “no American would be waiting for a bus.”47 The stereotype was clear: every American was ultrawealthy. Genora and Susan stayed in Acapulco for a while and then went to Mexico City, where they separated. Just as well, Genora must have thought, because of the constant confrontations between the Austrian widow and the local populace. Genora had a temper and could always show it when provoked, but she was also blessed with good manners and decent behavior.

On their numerous trips to Mexico, Sol and Genora had made many new friends and constantly received invitations to stay with them for extended periods. One person was Stanyo Kaminski, an up-and-coming sculptor and social activist. He had written to Genora in May 1968 that he was trying to produce a radical magazine, and Genora suggested ideas for its content. “Should the magazine Hora Cero ever see the light, I shall send you some copies. But HUSH! We also suffer bullies,”48 Kaminski wrote, referring to the FBI surveillance to which Genora and Sol had recently been subjected. For all practical purposes, however, the FBI had taken both of them off its list by 1964.

In Mexico City, Genora was the guest of Amelia Ramirez, whose deceased husband had once been a justice on the Mexican Supreme Court, and her family. The Dollingers had known the Ramirezes since 1960, when they made their second trip to Mexico. For breakfast one morning their hotel served them papaya, and neither Genora nor Sol had ever seen such a fruit. “How do you eat this thing?” Genora asked, perhaps too loudly, to no one in particular. Amelia, sitting at another table, overheard the question and said “with sugar and lime on it.” She had used “limon” for “lime,” so Genora drenched her fruit with lemon juice—still delicious, but funny to the Mexicans.49 Genora and Amelia remained friends for the rest of Genora’s life.

The Ramirez family nursed Genora back to health after her gall bladder operation. They heated packs for her chest and put hot water bottles in her bed. Genora flourished under such tender loving care. A son, Homero, an accountant by trade, took Genora out to see the sights of Mexico City. They stopped at a restaurant for a Mexican chocolate drink spiced with cinnamon and nutmeg. When the bill came, Genora wanted to pay for the drinks. “Senora, I am a Mexican,” Homero told her imperiously. Genora immediately countered with, “Senor, I am an American.”50 On this occasion Mexican machismo met its match with American independence, and they went dutch treat. It was really all in jest, but still the stereotypes were painfully present.

Genora came back to southern California fully refreshed, proclaiming that her health had been restored and she was ready for just about anything. When 1969 opened, she came out swinging. There was much to be done in Los Angeles to recuperate from the Watts riots in the summer of the previous year, and there were rumors of school teachers’ strikes all over the state, to say nothing of environmental issues that needed attention. Through all these flurries, Genora maintained a closer relation with Sol than perhaps she ever had in the past. But she was even closer to Ronnie. (Was it because she remembered her first two sons, with whom, she frequently lamented, she had not spent enough time?) She admired her young son’s versatility; he belonged to six clubs in high school yet always made A’s and B’s—he was so busy he even limited his telephone conversations to ten minutes.51 She was pleased with his independence of thought. Neither she nor Sol tried to lead him into any specific kind of political, economic, or social theory: they let him make up his own mind. They never even knew, for example, which political