Seeing Roosevelt.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XLVII, Issue 20, 15 May 1912, Page 47

Seeing Roosevelt.

By

GEORGE FITCH

With Cartoons by! John T. McCutcheon.

IT Is needless to say that never had the national pastime of meeting the president been so popular as it was during the six years Mr. Roosevelt occupied the White House. Never had there been so much variety to the experience. It combined the excitement of witnessing a volcano in full action with the satisfaction of becoming chummy with the administration of a great republic. It was the greatest lottery in the country. You went to the White House, a total stranger, to meet, the President of the. United States. The nearest to a blank which you could draw was ’‘dee-lighted.” The grand prizes were a bear story; a slap on the 'back-, and a Sialf-Jiour discussion of State affairs. The capital prize was an invitation to dinner. You invested a nickel in street-car fare nnd all of these prizes might be yours. So long as you were a common citizen anything in this line was possible. Of Course, if you were a potentate yourself it was a different matter. In those trustdevouring days it was only the magnate with “inflooence” who went into 'the presidential presence timidly and with shock-absorbers all over him.

' Once I spent a couple of days in that rare and delightful amusement known as “Doing Washington with a Congressman.' A Congressman is a man elected (to guide the people of his district around (the national capital. In his odd moments he legislates for the country. The Congressman from my district was absent when I got to Washington, by means of a letter of introduction Which he left, I borrowed a congressman from another district. The representative received me cordially, for, while I Could never vote for him, my congressman could vote for his public buildings and 'he was anxious to please. He stopped work on his midwinter speech, put off two conferences concerning the increasing of pensions, tied the ship of state to the dock, so far as he was concerned, and sallied forth, armed with his Secretary, to show me the sights. W.e viewed the capitol building from Crypt to cupola and took a long walk through the great white monastery which the congressmen have built for themselves as an office building. We viewed (several monumental statesmen on the senate side, and gazed with awe at the 80,000 dollar painting by the late Mr. TrumbuU, in which two young ladies (have twined five arms round each other. We wandered through Statuary hall and gazed at the unknown heroes in assorted (sizes who are confined there on pedestals. Then we set forth and circumnavigated the forty-acre waiting-room of the new Union station, listened to the Colour riot among the. library frescoes, inspected the old ladies’ home in the {Tension building, fingered a million or two in the mint, and got a good perspective On a couple of cabinet officers and an •tubaasador, As we parted at last, the

congressman accepted my thanks, but did it reluctantly. “Yes, we have done the town pretty well,” he admitted, “but we didn’t flee the president. It is cabinet day, you know. I'm very sorry.” Having thus learned that we might have viewed him I said I was sorry too. “I’ll tell you,” the congressman said with a flash of inspiration; “you come around at noon to-morrow. We’ll run over to the White House and I’ll introduce you to him.” “Gracious!” I said, slightly stunned, “I wouldn’t think of wasting his time that way!” “Oh, that doesn’t matter," said the congressman; "he’d be pleased to meet you.” “Why?” I asked. This was a poser and the congressman knew it. I had him. He couldn’t think of a reason to save his life. “Well, we’ll go anyway,” he declared. “He’s a very interesting sight when he’s going right. Now that Niagara. Kails have been commercialised and the Old Faithful geyser is playing out he’s about

the biggest natural phenomenon we’ve got in America.” So I consented, though I felt pretty tremulous about it. Sauntering in on 11 president who might even at that moment be arranging more peace between belligerent nations and saying “Howdedo,” with no excuse whatever —not even an appointment to ask for or a book to eel!—looked to me like nerve multiplied to the ninth-power. But tile congressman only laughed. “Don’t waste your time worrying about disturbing him,” he said. “You can’t. Nobody can. The senate’s been trying to for six years and it hasn't even annoyed him.” We set out the next morning slightly before noon. It wasn't far to White House. I wished it were farther. I tried to pump the congressman about the etiquette of the White House, but the resuls were pretty unsatisfactory. Were visitors searched? No. Was any particular form of salutation necessary? No. What did visitors usually talk about? Nothing unless they were ertraordinarily determined to talk. The president runs the conversation—starts and stops it as a chauffeur does an automobile. Were any sort of lines drawn

as to the kind of visitors admitted? Not •particularly. Any sane, sober man without artillery and with a representative or senator in lieu of an admission card could see the president between the hours of eleven and twelve in the morning, except on cabinet days. If he didn't have a congressman he would have to wait until later and take his chances. That wari all. As far as I could discover, the etiquette of the White House consists of removing the hat upon entering. I thought I would manage that and felt a little more confident. We turned into the White House park and bore down upon a low white build ing at one side. It looked like a powerhouse and I remarked as much. “It is a power-house,” said the congressman. “It’s the power-house of the republic. Some people say there’s too blamed much power there. That's the president’s office building.” The office building does not stun the visitor with its grandeur. It is a plain, square building of white stone, connected with the White House proper by a long narrow corridor. The whole affair is so low that it only comes up to the basement of the White House, and thus does

not obtrude itself upon the landscape to any extent. We scraped the gravel off our. feet and walked in. The waiting room, a large affair, as plain as the waiting-room of a country railway station, was crowded with correspondents, officials, travellers, wrestlers, (rough-riders, capitalists, farmers, inventors, actors, photographers, and politicians, all waiting to see the president. Having a congressman we did not linger there. A very fine old doorkeeper,

the only ornament in the room, waved us past. We crossed a small anteroom and emerged directly into the cabinet •room. As we entered we heard something. It was the president of the United States. We did not see him, for he was in another room, but 1 could recognise his voice from his photographs. It is a voice which underscores everything but the periods. A gatling gun has an uncertain and colourless tone compared with it. It isn’t such a strong voice, nor so loud; it is just positive—as positive as a dynamite explosion. It is the kind of voice that one expects to be backed up with fists, teeth, artillery, and battleships if necessary. It is a voice with stars and stripes all through it too. Mr. Roosevelt’s accent is pure American. It has no trace in it of north, south, east, west, or George 'Ade, which makes it sound a bit strange to everyone. He speaks the words as they will be spelled When the spelling reformers triumph, without the gutturals and grunts of ordinary offhand conversation. Every word is carefully prepared before delivery, and most of them are emphasised when uttered. Moreover, the president puts his words together in conversation, if anything, a little better t han be does in his books. He is an export with the tools of talk as he is with those of tennis and hunting, and he uses all of them, apparently, with equal pleasure. Considering his enormous output of words the finish of the product Is marvellous.’ There is a sort of comfortable homo tone to the president's voice too -- such a tone as a man de velopa after years of paternal conversation, not unmixed with reproof.

It is, moreover, a voice which has acquired an indefinable something from refinements, from ancestors, from literary work, from financial comfort, ami from moral stubbornnesses. But it hasn’t acquired a dialect. It is as independent as its owner. It has survived both New

York and Harvard without paying tribute to either. We edged our way cautiously arounl clumps of waiting patriots, each clump convoyed by a senator or representative, and inspected the cabinet room. It is exhibit A of democratic simplicity. In the centre of the room is a massive mahogany table around which are chairs, one for each cabinet member. On the back of each chair is a brass plate setting forth the name of the cabinet office and its incumbent. these plates are carefully revised each week and are considered accurate. As we finished our inspection, which included a view of the president’s desk in his private office, the president came out and began working his way rapidly through the callers, taking one group at a time, and using both bands and voice incessantly. His conversation greeted each group before he reached it. exhausted it of themes voraciously, and leaped eagerly forward to the next group. We watched him intently. Everyone did. It was as impossible not to do so as it would be to overlook the prima donna in a grand opera. You couldn’t even if you shut your eyes. As’the presi dent worked each group lie .rrdd ..lit the visitors and classified them Some he merely greeted cordially. Others he

asked to stand aside a minute tor fur ther remarks. Still others were a.* 1 ■ to step into his office and wait for Then, after having rough-tit •«-! ' uli . dozen groups, the president .mil. ■> back and work the debris. It was them that we saw him in real action. lie told a story and arrived nt the point with a deep, chuckly laugh which pervaded his entire system and was reflected from every tooth a regular mouthful of glee. lie frowned tremendously and a pent-up epigram exploded with a loud bang; he suddenly reached forward and bit the atmosphere in two while emphasising a word. He reached a woman caller and his entire personality dissolved and changed like a river mist. Bowing low as In shook hands, he greeted her with an old fashioned courtesy and a soft-voiced d ference to womankind that was most attractive. Passing on, he heard a proposition and dismissed it with two “nocs” that would have cut n ship’s cable in two—all in good humour and friendliness. Then, remembering a group which he had sent, into his office to be digested, he hurried in to them and considered their ease. These visitors consisted of a father and son, plain folks from somewhere off the main line. They wanted something. It took them five minutes to explain what their documents were. It took the president fifteen minutes to- refuse the request. He dove head long into tie papers, exhausted them in a minute, then sat down, put his- hand on the younger man's knee and explained terrifically. He pushed a button and a secretary nppea rod with more papers and explanations. Then camo the cconomi. dly featured Loeb with still more pnperp. All of these the president went over, t|. two

visitors listening wonder ingly, just as they would have done to a cyclone—seeing just how it was all done, but not knowing how to object, lie took them to the door at last, and as the next waiting group passed into the conversational zone the father and son departed—more or less dazed and too interested as yet to be much disappointed. All of this time senators and representatives were waiting. Some of them had real business. Others were merely conducting “Seeing Roosevelt'* parties. Around each congressman was his group of visitors, each group as distinctly defined as a foreign nation. They say that nothing galls an important senator so much as to stand in that cabinet room, hat in hand, trying to look ten feet tall,

while the president converses with the heterogeneous morning grist of visitors. He may have called at the president's request, but he is as likely as not to wait half an hour while the executive converses with some scrubby editor from the West who has shot prairie chickens in a new’ way. And even when he does reach him the worst of it is that while he can be perfectly confidential with the president, the president insists on being perfectly public with him. It is affecting, they say, to see a senator of 20 years’ standing pleading in hushed, pained tones while the president interjects in a loud voice: “No, I will not.” "You shouldn't ask that.” "Impossible!’’ —all in full hearing of the waiting groups in the cabinet room. Like as not some adoring constituent of the senator is waiting in that outer room all the while and is having 75ft of pedestal knocked out from under his idol by the president's full-organ refusals. It is all very annoying, but it helps keep Washington as full of chuckles as the senate is full of insurgents. When Mr. Roosevelt talks, the spectator suddenly realises that the Roosevelt mouth and all pertaining thereto are unique and unrivalled. It is original in type, in methods, and results. It is bounded on the north by a moustache, sparse, not to say scrubby, of a type found in profusion all along the 40th latitude. It does not mask his vocal battery, but confines itself strictly to his upper lip, out of harm's way. To the east and west the, boundaries are firm, well-fed cheeks; to the south a jaw, as solidly and decisively built as the forward turret of the battleship Oregon. Within the Roosevelt mouth is a full set of the best-known teeth in the world. They are not so remarkable in themselves, though they are unusually large and well groomed; but they have appeared in public so much that they are regarded as a natural phenomenon and public property. This is due to the fact

that when Mr. Roosevelt smiles his mouth moves away on either side.like a curtain, and the illumination bursts upon the spectator unhampered and unbounded. Then, again in moments of conversational stress the Roosevelt teeth are apt to elbow the Roosevelt lips aside and do the talking themselves. Those who have seen the president thus in action cannot help regarding each large white tooth as the tombstone of some reputation, the owner of whieh has given the president just cause to reply. At the present rate it will soon Im- necessary for several victims to share the same tombstone. The Roosevelt teeth have all the fame,

but they are really commonplace compitted with the Roosevelt lower lip. This lower lip is unknown. It has no place in literature. The cartoonists have ignored it. The camera doesn't understand it. It is not pointed out to tourists nor doublestarred in the Washington guide book. Yet more vividly than any other feature it portrays the Roosevelt temperament and typifies the strenuous ideal. It is the hardest working, most versatile, most conscientious lower lip in the world, it is a part of the administration, not merely of the president. Not only does it deliver the president's conversation to the public, but it personally supervises it. It gives each word, no matter how small, its individual attention, moulds it correctly, aand hands it

out, a perfect, finished product. Elastic almost beyond belief, it assumes a dozen shapes in as many seconds. It pictures, as the words pass it, rage, hate, earnestness, determination, statesmanship. It pull's out, distended with adjectives fighting for precedence like diplomats at a dinner. It steps aside entirely and unveils the teeth, hissing like a leaky steampipe with polysyllables. It wraps itself lovingly around a cherished phrase and releases it with honest pride. One can almost see it at times reach forth and search the air for a word that shall best fit the idea. Gazing on this lower lip making conversation one has the sensation of gazing on a watchmaking machine for the first time. Y'ou always knew

watches were made, but never saw the operation before. The Roosevelt lower lip is not famous because it cannot be photographed in action. Some day it will be kinetoseoped, however, and wilt then come into its own. Just as we were completing the survey the group ahead of us fell into ruins, and the president advanced to my congressman with his hand outstretched. We are not saying “dee-lighted” at the White House any more, except on special occasions. Styles change, except in the funny papers. Nowadays, when the president .grasps a stranger’s hand and is told his name, a note of joyous recognition breaks into his voice and he says:— "Oh! Mister Jones! I’m very glad to meet yon!!!” Several men have come very near to exploding with pride on the spot on hearing this, and have had to be led rapidly off to the cooper’s and hopped for safety’s sake. However. t v e spell is over in an instant. Just • - the visitor's head is beginning to >.v ’■ I with dazzling discovery that the president of the United States knows all about him, something edges its way into his vapourised mind and eools it off in a jiffy. He is waiting for the president to explain where he first heard of him and to invite him to lunch. The president isn't doing it. Instead, he is shaking hands with the next man and is using the identical expression. The dream is over. It isn’t a gasp of signified longing, that “very glad to meet you!” It is merely a substitute for “delighted.” Still, it is a grand and thrilling experience to sit in the memory of a president if only for one deluded second. We took our hats and went away. At the door we were twenty feet high. As the incoming crowd elbowed us we gradually shrank. At the outer door

we are only ten feet high. Outside we turned into a private path by accident and a White House policeman shooed us away—US, who had been holding the reins of government and cracking the whip only a few minutes ago. As I looked at it coming out, it seemed as if we had gone in to eheer the president up and that, after talking to him for a few minutes and straightening out several knotty problems, we had bade him a kindly good-by and had left him. As I remember it now, we had really lookedl on opened-mouthed for fifteen minutes—a fear conies over me that it was only two—and that at the end of that time the president, having said what was uppermost in his mind, had terminated the interview. That is the funny thing about it. We came away feeling as if we had terminated the interview. They say everybody does—that no one stays a minute longer than the president wants him to and yet no one knows how the president does it. At a certain moment the visitor clutches his hat convulsively, and the president, overcoming his disappointment, manfully bids him goodbye. But what makes the visitor clutch his hat? That is the mystery. There may be black art in it. At any rate it is a dielightful way to terminate an interview. But would it work on a book agent?