Monday, Jan. 30, 1928

A Candidate's Wife

Three weeks ago, a plump, pretty, motherly lady of some 50 summers, was taken ill on her way from Albany, N. Y. to an evening party in Manhattan. Her husband. Governor Alfred Emanuel Smith of New York, hurried her to a hospital. "Appendicitis," said the doctors, and operated.

Mrs. Smith "did well." Soon she was sitting up in bed, surrounded by flowers, inquired after by throngs of distinguished callers, visited daily by the hardworking, wide-smiling, cigar-chewing man whom she kept from becoming an actor 30 years ago when his devotion to her was expressed in nightly trips from the lower East Side to her home in the far-off Bronx.

Now that this man was by way of becoming the Democratic nominee for President, Mrs. Smith, as she lay among her pillows, flowers and relatives, must have wondered often what it would be like to live in the White House. And while she was musing thus, many another lady, conscious that who shall be First Lady of the land is not an unimportant matter socially, wondered what this candidate's wife was like, Mrs. Katherine Dunn Smith.

Biographies of Mrs. Smith are scarce. She is not in the Social Register. She is mentioned sparingly in the standard life of her husband.* It was undoubtedly a social service, therefore, and perhaps a political service, when Parker Lloyd-Smith, able young editorial writer of the Albany Knickerbocker-Press (Republican), last week published a sketch of Mrs. "Katie" Smith.

Wrote amiable Writer Lloyd-Smith:

"From Vermont comes a story, quite untrue, of Katie's shopping tour in Burlington, ending with her gracious remark to a clerk--'You may be interested to know that you have had the honor of waiting on Mrs. Alfred E. Smith!'

". . . Even in Albany, where she has presided over the social life of the Executive Mansion for seven years, few women really know her. They see her at the inaugural balls and occasionally at a small dinner. Her face is familiar as it is framed against the back seat of an open Packard, license No. 2. The Dutch aristocracy of Albany noted the gradual improvement of her appearance as the sales-ladies of Altman's [Manhattan department store] have become more adept at finding becoming gowns for her, and on the rare occasions when she stands in the receiving line of the Junior League assemblies, she is as well-dressed as the most important Van Hoogkamp or Vandervorden.

"But that is as far as it goes. Katie Smith has not made friends in Albany. When she first came to the city with her young assemblyman husband, she was not urged to become a part of one of the most exclusive societies in America. Later, as it became apparent that the Smiths would be fixtures in the Executive Mansion, invitations to luncheons and dinners began to pour in. She was equally indifferent to the snubs and the flattery. The Executive Mansion was filled with her friends of Oliver street days and she had neither time nor inclination to cultivate a new circle of acquaintances. Al himself delivered one sharp rebuke to a local social leader who tried to climb on the bandwagon, but Katie simply didn't care. She had what she wanted.

"She still has. Katie Smith is a satisfied woman. Few interests find their way into her life, but they claim all her attention and all her sympathies. There is first of all, her husband. Katie adores Al.

"It is, perhaps, the most appealing quality of her character, and it is impossible to miss it. She goes with him on his campaign trips and she travels to New York when he is to make a speech or meet a distinguished visitor. They rarely accept invitations to social functions in Albany and evening after evening she sits with him at the Executive Mansion, listening to the radio, watching his favorite comic films which she doesn't particularly like, or else playing the piano herself. She loves The Sidewalks of New York and plays it well. She cares little for the phonograph.

"Her loyalty is complete. Although she must dream of the White House for his sake, she never mentions the subject herself and evades it skilfully if well-meaning friends advance it. As a matter of fact, Mrs. Smith is not consumed by a desire to stand in the Blue Room and shake hands with the diplomatic corps. She would much rather drive down to New York in the Packard and receive a few old friends at the Biltmore, for she extends the same utter loyalty to her friends that she gives her family. To strangers she is polite, gracious, but not communicative. Many an eager woman has attempted to gain her interest at a luncheon by telling some racy or timely anecdote, only to be cooled by her calm, smiling, 'Just imagine!'

"Her adoration of her children is almost as intense as her hero worship of Al. Emily, the oldest girl, lives at some distance from the Executive Mansion with her husband, Major John A. Warner, the chief of the state police, and with a baby daughter. Almost every day at 5 o'clock, Katie and Al come to see the granddaughter, and there she is at her best. She is in the midst of all she loves most in the world and her open, unrouged face is circled by one generous smile of happiness. The baby may pull at her beautifully marcelled hair without reproof. Watching her husband and her granddaughter together she wants nothing more. . . .

"After her family and her friends, Katie's interests are mild and innocuous. She likes the theatre, with particular emphasis on musical comedies, an enthusiasm which she shares with Al. Like him, she rarely reads, although she follows the newspapers. . . . His enjoyment of golf at Atlantic City is equalled by her delight in the climate and in the auction sales, which she attends eagerly, buying prudently and selectively. One outstanding interest in her summer is the Saratoga season. She is an ardent race-goer, occupying box No. 1, and following the course closely.

"But Katie Smith does not gamble. At heart she still is Victorian. She does not smoke herself and her daughters do not smoke in the Executive Mansion. She makes no objection to Al's occasional poker parties, but the only card game she likes is a variant of Rum, called Gin. This she plays expertly and loves to have her husband as an opponent. Living in a political atmosphere, where a certain amount of drinking is inevitable, she neither drinks herself nor understands others who drink too much. . . . Her worst enemy is candy, of which she is passionately fond. . . . She shops a great deal, and often buys herself a small bag of candy which she carries home. It is almost her only self-indulgence, for most of her shopping consists in walking along the street and looking at the windows. She likes jewelry and has an especial weakness for bracelets of small diamonds, but she never buys them for herself. Large pearl beads in her ears have a habit of slipping off at her hairdresser's. Shop girls adore her for her friendliness and unaffected ways, and each Christmas she makes a practice of giving gold pieces to the girls at the one Albany shop she patronizes extensively. Window shopping is her only form of exercise. . . .

"There is, in truth, room for only one figure in the limelight which plays about the Smith home. Al is the hero of the hour, the day, the week and the year. Katie is quite happy to stand silently beside him, smiling generously, saying nothing. If she is addressed directly, she replies briefly, in good English with a slight Irish accent and in cultured tones. Only in the midst of her real intimates does she become expansive, and that is when Al is not present. She has fine and honest eyes, which rarely leave her husband's face.

"Would she change in the White House? Bless your heart, no! . . . She might not know the name of the president of Czechoslovakia, but she would be glad when its minister came to shake hands with her husband, the President, and she would show her pleasure in her own unobtrusive way. The White House to her would be merely another home for her husband and her family, a home which she would begin at once to make comfortable, friendly, American."

*ALFRED E. SMITH, A CRITICAL STUDY-- Henry F. Pringle--Macy-Masius: 1927 ($3.50).