Feldmanitis

Jovial Dr. Alfred Bilmanis, Latvian Minister to the U.S., had been a pet of Washington society. In his comfortable 17th Street home, he loved to relax over a mellow wine and a fine cigar, converse in any of six languages. But when he attended formal diplomatic parties, as he did frequently, he became a thorny symbol. The State Department had never recognized the armed annexation of his country by Russia. Russian diplomats bitterly resented his presence at White House functions, coolly declined invitations on the grounds of illness if he was to be present. "Bilmanitis" became a Washington gag. When he died last year, the Russians recovered from Bilmanitis. But they well knew that they might have a relapse. While there is no Latvian Government in Exile, Latvian Minister to London Karlis Zarins still holds the extraordinary power to appoint diplomats (granted him by his government just before the Russians took over).

Last week, mild-mannered Jules Feldmans, carrying his credentials as charge d'affaires (a lower rank since he had not been appointed by a government), was given the full and formal State Department protocol treatment in Washington. He was warmly received by Secretary of State Acheson. For six minutes, lounging in a leather armchair, Feldmans told of the plight of 80,000 Latvian D.P.s who would like to come to the U.S. The State Department put Feldmans' name on the official list of diplomats. Mr. Feldmans did not call on the President, but it was announced unofficially that Mrs. Truman would entertain him at tea at Blair House, along with other freshman members of the capital's diplomatic corps, as soon as the fall season opens. Presumably, Washington's Russian diplomats were already feeling the first hot flushes of Feldmanitis.

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