Sick Man

Death in its blind flight last week dipped close to William Howard Taft, then veered away, how far none knew. A combination of ailments which forced his resignation as Chief Justice rendered his condition serious, if not critical. His physicians held out scant hope for complete recovery.

Long afflicted with arteriosclerosis (hardening of the arteries), myocarditis (inflammation of the muscular tissue of the heart) and cystitis (bladder inflammation), Mr. Taft, 72, suffered a collapse when, last December, he returned from his brother's funeral in Cincinnati. After hospitalization he went to Asheville, N. C., for rest. There he grew worse. Last week he was brought back to Washington.

When he arrived at the Union station, onlookers were shocked at his appearance. All color had gone from his deflated cheeks. His eyelids drooped listlessly. He was unresponsive to sights and sounds. Dr. Francis Randall Hagnar, his physician, assured newsmen that Mr. Taft was in no pain. Helped out of the railroad car by four attendants, the sick man was placed in a rolling chair, too small for him. The onetime Chief Justice showed a faint flicker of a smile. News cameramen pressed rudely about him, exploded their flashlights before his unseeing eyes.

Driven to his quiet home on Wyoming Avenue, he roused himself enough to help his attendants undress him and put him to bed. Through the capital sped rumors that he was dying. Bulletins emphasized the gravity of his condition.

Next morning he was a little better. President Hoover called, spent ten quiet minutes, came out to remark: "I found Mr. Taft sitting up and very cheerful." Ahead of the onetime President lay, at best, long passive weeks of enforced rest.

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