Whew!

"Mme. Nhu," declared California's Governor Pat Brown in the understatement of the month, "is a controversial figure. She is not the first to visit California, nor will she be the last. I urge all Californians to act like civilized Americans and let the lady have her say." But for all the Governor's pleas, a number of protest groups pursued their plans to give the lady a hostile welcome.

On the East Coast, at just about the same time, another controversial visitor to the U.S., Yugoslavia's President Tito, gathered his 28-man party onto an ocean liner and bade the U.S. farewell.

As it turned out, neither the madame nor the marshal was much of a success during the final days of their visits.

The Madame. At luncheons and press conferences, South Viet Nam's Mme. Nhu continued to air her grievances against the U.S. In Chicago she termed the U.S. withdrawal of financial aid to Viet Nam's Special Forces a "betrayal." Arriving in Texas, she made a pilgrimage to Neiman-Marcus' famed department store in Dallas, lunched at the city's rooftop Ports O' Call Restaurant, and was guest of honor at a Texas-sized blowout at the Bee County ranch of Millionaire Dudley T. Dougherty, who keeps an oil well in his front yard.

Whisking westward next day, Mme. Nhu stopped off for a talk in Phoenix and then waded into Pat Brown's excitable California for appearances in Los Angeles, San Francisco and Berkeley. This week she concludes her 21-day grand tour of the U.S.

The Marshal. For his part, it was Marshal Tito's presence, rather than his words, that lent excitement to his visit. Tito's address to the United Nations General Assembly was a ho-hum, all-things-to-all-men bid for continued ways to reach peaceful coexistence.

His presence in New York City, however, made nervous wrecks of police and security officials. A couple of anti-Tito Yugoslavs managed to slip into the Waldorf-Astoria and make their way to Tito's 35th floor--where they were promptly arrested. At another point, five pickets ran into three Tito aides; in the scuffle, one of Tito's men ended up with a bruised jaw. And outside the Waldorf, six demonstrators paraded in Halloween skeleton costumes, hauling a chariot bearing skeletons and a whip-cracking man dressed as Tito. Angered, Tito canceled a reception for 1,200 guests. "The reason for this," said Tito's communique, "is the failure of the competent authorities ... to undertake adequate security measures in connection with the reception." Replied New York's Police Commissioner Michael Murphy: "Sheer, unadulterated nonsense."

At week's end, as he and his party boarded the S.S. Rotterdam, Tito got a noisy send-off from his own U.N. delegation and from a band of uninvited demonstrators. Exuding good will, the boss of Yugoslavia extended his best wishes to the American people "for their well-being and further progress, and also to express my hope that normal friendly relations marked by stability will prevail." With that, the gangplank was raised, the Rotterdam tooted goodbye, the pickets lowered their standards, and the U.S. State Department sighed with relief.

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