Everyone listened to and watched Mayakovsky differently. They wrote memoranda, instigated, and even ridiculed him. They tried to fire off retorts. Occasionally it looked like a crowd at the zoo in front of the lion’s cage. A half a century has to pass before such things seem impossible. Mayakovsky, having taken off his jacket, busily flipped through those memoranda, extracted from them the harshest or most foolish and responded right there, so that the anonymous opponent would blush in the audience. This was, of course, his own variety of theatre.