Citizen Roosevelt

Like any U.S. citizen, the President pays an income tax. Like any citizen he grumps a bit. At a press conference last week a tax-conscious newsman asked: Had the President figured what his own tax would be next year under the new Treasury recommendations? No, admitted Franklin Roosevelt--as weakly as any putter-offer--because this year's taxes were bad enough.

Wartime living had hit the White House in many other ways. Citizen Roosevelt had to go easy on sugar. The White House no longer bought it in 100-lb. bags. Sugary desserts had given way to fresh fruits. Except at parties-now small and infrequent-the rule was: no dessert at all if a salad was on the table.

In deference to the tire shortage, White House limousines no longer carried liveried messengers, as in peacetime, to deliver Presidential invitations. Civic-minded Eleanor Roosevelt kept her convertible coupe mostly in the garage.

White Housekeepers patched up the linen, cut down old tablecloths into tray cloths and napkins. Leftovers from the White House table reappeared disguised as stew, ragout and hash. Scraps that could not be salvaged went to feed the pigs at Washington's six-acre, cooperative Self-Help Farm. White House trash had gone to the metals-salvage campaign, and a Treasury truck stopped weekly to collect old papers.

When the President swam in the White House pool, he took business callers along to finish conversations. Telephone calls from the far corners of the world interrupted his evenings; he seldom got to the White House movies now. He observed a nightly blackout: 2,700 yards of double-thickness blackout curtains were hidden behind White House draperies.

Citizen Roosevelt might even have a Victory Garden soon. Mrs. Roosevelt planned to plant one on the White House grounds-if the Agriculture Department, skeptical of amateur farmers, decides that the soil is fertile enough to make a garden worth while.

The President had delegated his powers widely through Washington. There might be bottlenecks, but not at the White House. For a change--and for a time-he was not overburdened. Since Pearl Harbor he had sped up daytime work so that he now averaged only one night's work a week.

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.