"This Terrible Job"

Although the backstairs conniving of some of his friends had become embarrassingly public, President Truman's official expression did not change a whit. His look indicated that he didn't smell a thing wrong. He was his usual blithe self, having a good time making proclamations, rewarding deserving Democrats, and entertaining a gardenful of pretty girls.

Early in the week he had flown to Miami to the convention of Veterans of Foreign Wars, to read a speech appealing for support of his foreign military-aid program. It was the kind of routine, uninspired address that Speechwriter Clark Clifford can turn out in his sleep, designed to satisfy its hearers without making headlines. Back in Washington, the President signed the proclamation of the Atlantic pact, made another short speech: "No nation need fear the results of our cooperation ... On the contrary . . ." These functions he performed with earnest punctilio.

Politicking. With obvious relish he busied himself at party politicking. It was a week when he could watch three political plums safely deposited in the hands of three good friends. At a swearing-in ceremony, a function which he always hugely enjoys, he handed ex-Attorney General Tom Clark his commission as a Justice of the Supreme Court. Ex-Democratic National Party Chairman Howard McGrath got his commission as Attorney General, and Bill Boyle Jr. got a gavel and the chairmanship of the Democratic National Committee.

Cockily Mr. Truman took credit "for all these maneuvers," happily "overwhelmed at the way the situation had worked out." This and more he proclaimed to the faithful at a dinner party for Boyle at the Mayflower Hotel (see below).

Song. The President's girl guests were 96 members (two from each state) of the American Legion Auxiliary's "Girls Nation." They came trooping into the White House grounds to be presented one by one. Mr. Truman beamed on them in the White House rose garden.

"One young lady asked me if in five years she might be an ambassador," he told them, "I couldn't make her any promises because that is a year or two beyond the time when my term will expire." But he told them to keep informed on the Government, and one of them might even have "this terrible job which I have . . . and you might get a chance to live over there in that great white jail, with the balcony and everything."

They burst into song. "Raise your voice in gladsome song, we are up & coming, progressive, kind and strong." Mr. Truman edged back into his office as they were about to begin The Missouri Waltz.

Had Mr. Truman by his remark to the girls meant to bow out of the 1952 race? The question was asked point-blank at his press conference. He would answer when the time came, he replied, and grinned.

"Our Friend." This week he went to Philadelphia for the American Legion convention. On orders from the White House --in which was seen the hand of faithful Harry Vaughan--the Defense Department had mobilized some 4,000 soldiers, sailors and marines, who lined the President's auto route in Philadelphia.

Harry Truman, speaking to the Legionnaires, had a message he wanted sensitive Britons to overhear: visiting British economists could expect "friendliness and helpfulness from the U.S." Defense Secretary Louis Johnson, onetime commander of the Legion, presented Mr. Truman with the Legion's Distinguished Service Medal, its highest award. Said Secretary Johnson: "In his simplicity, his humility, his charm, his humor, his devotion to his friends . . . our friend and fellow veteran Harry Truman never seems to change."

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