Party Man's Party

Like most American men, Harry Truman loves a stag party. He also loves the Democratic Party. Last week the President brought the two loves together for a gala two days of eating, drinking, ribbing, horseshoe-pitching and politicking. The picnic grounds were the Jefferson Islands Club, three dots of green in the middle of Chesapeake Bay, a sumptuous hideaway dedicated to simon-pure Democracy. The President's playmates: more than 200 Democrats--Congressmen and Cabinet members, a few business bigwigs, a few tried & true old friends.

Somebody in Washington had thought it was high time that the President and his Democratic majority had a high old time together. Congress was showing signs of going into a fractious mood. Last week, it had sawed down the President's unemployment compensation plan, and it was testing its temper against more controversial measures coming up. By all factions in Congress Harry Truman was still one of the best liked of all Presidents, but he had undeniably lost some of his early acceptance on the Hill. It was time for the pouring of oil on waters and of water on bourbon.

Man at Work. The President had had another busy week, and he had zipped through it in the decisive style that is now recognized as typically Truman. In one terse, five-minute press conference (see PRESS), he made the week's biggest news. He made his first appointment to the Supreme Court. He made tough-minded Robert Patterson his Secretary of War, gave his kudos and the Distinguished Service Medal to retiring Old Soldier-Elder Statesman Henry L. Stimson. With one hurried stroke he had put the scattered war labor-relations bureaus under Labor Secretary Lewis B. Schwellenbach. With one brusque stroke he had cut Economic Stabilizer William H. Davis' job out from under him.

The rest of the week was the same--nothing earthshaking, but everything brisk. The President named State Department Careerist Maxwell M. Hamilton to be Minister to Finland. He saw a long list of visitors, assured a group of Democratic and Republican women that he favors the equal-rights Constitutional amendment. Now for the outing.

Man at Play. A warm, cloudless Saturday found the President in sparkling fettle for the weekend's fun. In a light grey suit and soft tan hat he was off from the White House at 8:40 a.m., behind a motorcycle escort. His car companions: Senate Secretary Leslie Biffle, former presidential press secretary Steve Early (now of Pullman Co.), Reconversion Boss John W. Snyder, gabby Brigadier General Harry Vaughan, the President's aide.

At Annapolis, aboard a dingy, tub-shaped, ancient icebreaker, now a Navy pilot craft, the President found about 75 thirsting party men. He went to the boat's top deck and yelled hearty gibes at Congressmen and others as they came dockside. One was James M. Barnes, former Illinois Congressman and one of Franklin Roosevelt's "secret six" assistants. Jim Barnes's imminent departure from Washington was the excuse for the get-together. He was the guest of honor; the President was merely another guest of Russell M. Arundel, Washington attorney, who signed the check at the club.

Under the Flagpole. On one of the islands, in front of the long, white Colonial clubhouse, the picnicking and politicking began at once. On the greensward facing a shallow bay was a long tent--at one end a beer and bourbon bar, at the other end a food bar (crabmeat, ham, potato salad and a barrel of oysters). Harry Truman, glass in hand, sat under a flagpole and chatted, called out many a first name.

Later he teamed with Idaho's Senator Glen Taylor against Maryland's Millard Tydings and Arkansas' J. William Fulbright at pitching horseshoes. The Missouri southpaw's side lost, 20-to-21. A seaplane brought official papers for the President. He sat under a poplar tree, read them, signed some. Then he went inside. There was a poker game in full blast and three tables of continuous bridge.

By sundown most of the picnickers began to straggle back to the mainland (the clubhouse has overnight accommodations for only about 20). All proclaimed the outing a great success. Said one good Democrat: "It was a good party. There was all we could eat, and more than we could drink--and only two people passed out."

Next day it rained. But more than 100 of the faithful journeyed to the islands, found chipper Harry Truman in a brown leather bushjacket (he calls it his "zoot" suit). The party centered around him at the piano. He played some Chopin, and accompanied gusty renditions of the inevitable How Dry I Am and Sweet Adeline. At dark the fun broke up. The President was buttonholed by newsmen at the White House back door. He had one newsmaking thing to say: he alone would make the decision about the atomic bomb secret (see INTERNATIONAL). Had the President done himself some good with Congressmen at the outing? Said one Senator, who frequently bucks the Administration: "Harry Truman plays a damn good game of poker."

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