Open Doors

(See front cover)

The double glass front doors of the White House are bound with bronze. For years they have been guarded by two tall liveried Negroes, trained to let no one through except the most high or the most favored.

Last week, two months had passed since the new occupants took over the White House. Observers looking to see what changes, if any, might have come over the White House, noticed that the bronze-bound doors were swinging to and fro with a brisk new freedom. They opened not only in for strangers (see col. 1) but also out for plain tourists to issue grandly forth from the main entrance after staring their way through state chambers. The tourist exit always used to be through the basement. The Open Door policy is the most tangible change which Mrs. Hoover has wrought as First Lady, but there are other, subtle changes. The atmosphere of the President's House is larger, more free. Its hospitality is more casual, for-granted.

Before President & Mrs. Hoover had been in the White House a fortnight, they gave an afternoon reception to 200 members of the Diplomatic Corps which set a fresh tone for these formal functions. Heretofore guests had filed stiffly past the President and First Lady. The Hoovers, however, moved about the room, mingled informally with their guests, passed from group to group.

The presence of small children in the White House immediately after Inauguration and for some time subsequent, also helped pitch the White House in a new key. One of the first articles of furniture to be moved in was a crib for Grandchild Herbert Hoover 3rd, aged 13. The house was his. He romped and played and chortled up and down its long upstairs corridor. Oldtime servitors had not seen such family fun since the days of the Roosevelts.

Herbert Ill's sister, Peggy Ann, aged three, was a little more sedate, a little more aware of the importance of her position, except when her grandmother took her to the Amaryllis exhibition at the Department of Agriculture. There Mrs. Hoover, patience herself with children, had her hands full keeping Peggy Ann from clutching handfuls of the flowers. "I want 'em! I want 'em!" she kept repeating.

The management of the White House is no great burden to Mrs. Hoover, homemaker. Miss Ellen E. Riley, the Coolidge housekeeper, has departed and in her place is Mrs. Ava Long of New Hampshire. Under Mrs. Hoover's supervision, Mrs. Long "runs" the staff of a score of White House "help," mostly black.

Anyone who ever saw the Hoover home at Palo Alto or on S Street knows Mrs. Hoover's fondness for verandas and terraces. Back of the White House, not far from her husband's medicine-ball-ground, Mrs. Hoover has had laid out a flagstoned retreat among the trees, with rustic chairs against a shrubbery background. Nearby a special flowerbed has been turned, prepared and planted. Mrs. Hoover supervises the gardener but seldom trowels herself.

People who have visited the Hoovers in or out of the White House realize that Mrs. Hoover's "at-homeness" is not a commonplace quality. It is the product of wide education, travel, association with big-calibre people in many lands. A small-town publisher's wife and a small-town lawyer's wife have been succeeded by a cosmopolite's wife.

Lou Henry was born in the same State as her husband, Iowa, some 50 years ago. When she was still in short dresses, her father moved to Whittier, Calif., opened a bank, weathered the 1890 slump, went on to Monterey. Lou was a tall lanky girl, not over-strong. Out of banking hours her father had a passion for the out-of-doors, which his daughter inherited. Together they went on long camping trips up into the mountains (Mrs. Henry preferred to remain behind, ride in a surrey). Mr. Henry taught his girl to know trees, flowers, rocks, birds, animals. He gave her lessons in building fires, tent-pitching, sleeping under the stars. "Those days," says Mrs. Hoover, "went by like a dream." Her father died last summer. To Monterey one day came Prof. Branner, geologist of the new Leland Stanford Jr. University. He gave a popular lecture on "The Bones of the Earth." Lou Henry attended, listened closely.

She asked and obtained permission to attend the University and study geology under Prof. Branner. The boys in the field class looked upon this serious girl disapprovingly until they saw her vault a fence and follow the party without assistance.

One day in her freshman year, Miss Henry was discussing rock specimens with Prof. Branner in his laboratory. A stocky, serious-looking young man came in. He was a senior. Prof. Branner introduced him and said: "Miss Henry thinks this rock belongs to the precarboniferous age. What do you think. Hoover?" Hoover didn't think so. While he was explaining why, Prof. Branner was called away. Miss Henry and Senior Hoover kept on discussing rocks. He could tell her a good deal about geology. She repaid him by helping with his English when it threatened to flunk him and prevent his graduation.

How Engineer Hoover went to Australia, sent an important cable, returned to Monterey, went (because of the hurry) to a Catholic priest, and sailed away to China with Lou Henry Hoover, are details familiar to all since the campaign. Mrs. Hoover moves steadily through his background from then on. At Tientsin during the Boxer Uprising, she nursed the wounded at the club, scooting past open corners of the compound on a bicycle while bullets whizzed above.

In Kalgoorlie, Australia, she read Kipling's Just-So Stories--"Old Man Kangaroo" and "Yellow Dog Dingo"--to her two sons. For years Kipling was their favorite and many a long trip was eased by repetitions of the doings of the 'Stute Fish, the Elephant's Child, and Mr. One-Two-Three- Where's-My-Breakfast.

In London, at the outbreak of the War, women sat about wondering loudly what they could do to help U. S. refugees. Mrs. Hoover tossed her purse with 70 pounds into a basket and said: "Let's begin with that. Now let's go to the station and meet those Americans and help them."

In Washington, as wife of the U. S. Food Administrator, she invented the Hoover apron, started the "cash-and-carry" movement, planned and built temporary houses for girl clerks.

The outdoors always called her. Cities make her feel cooped up. Several years ago she drove her own motor car across the continent, with her father, then 83, seated beside her. Each night they camped along the way. For four years Mrs. Hoover was president of the Girl Scouts of America, among whom her official name is "Buffalo." Any Girl Scout now has a special entree at the White House. When President Hoover goes fishing, Mrs. Hoover accompanies him. waits on the bank, picks flowers, looks at trees and rocks, reads a book.

When President Harding journeyed to Alaska, Secretary of Commerce and Mrs. Hoover were in the official party. At Cantwell all detrained to see a herd of reindeer. Miss Ruth Rheet, a young woman in gray flannel shirt and riding breeches, explained how she had driven 1,500 deer 500 miles from Akiak down through Broad Pass, losing only 92 en route. Mrs. Harding commented: "How exciting!" Mrs. Hoover did not exclaim but watched for her chance to talk with Ruth Rheet.

When the Harding party reached Fairbanks, the school superintendent displayed his little library. He was especially proud of his copy of the 16th Century edition of Georgius Agricola's De Re Metallica,transated by Herbert and Lou Henry Hoover. Mrs. Hoover had to explain how she had found this medieval mining text-book in the British Museum, had brought it home to her husband. With her Latin and technical knowledge, they worked five years on the translation which they published in 1912 and which brought them both special degrees from Stanford. Recently a copy of the book brought $170 at a Manhattan sale.

During the presidential campaign and after, Mrs. Hoover was of silent, though invaluable, assistance to her husband. Not of the "bubbly" temperament, it was at first a little difficult for her to throw herself into the cordiality expected of her position. But she has gradually accustomed herself to these demands. When the Hoover party left the U. S. S. Maryland in South America it was Mrs. Hoover who responded to the crew's speech of farewell. "Dear Davey Jones--" she began, and thanked the officers and men for their hospitality, commanded them to speak up when they came to Washington.

Quiet, gracious, Mrs. Hoover is friendly rather than amiable. She can still do things "just for fun." In the White House she still knits, makes needlepoint tapestries, decorates the centre of her table with oranges, apples, eggplants and peppers. Her voice, from her well-cut generous mouth, is low, deliberative, devoid of geographical accent. Her conversation is not of the small-talk question-and-answer variety. She has a full mind to draw from and would rather discuss subjects than people.

The artifices of the beauty parlor are not for her. Her hair, prematurely white, never gets crimped. On her clear skin go no cosmetics. She wears little or no jewelry, except a woven silver chain about her neck.

Her costumes are simple--hats small, round, tight-fitting; clothes black, white, grey, dark brown; shoes low-heeled.

Friendships mean much to Mrs. Hoover and most of her friends are wives of her husband's friends. Edgar Rickard is President Hoover's closest personal and professional associate. Mrs. Rickard is very close to Mrs. Hoover. Together these four have roamed the world.

When Mrs. Hoover was a co-ed at Stanford, she knew and liked Marguerite May Blake there, a serious-minded girl studying medicine. Miss Blake married Ray Lyman Wilbur, whom Herbert Hoover was to choose for his Secretary of the Interior. Mrs. Wilbur is Mrs. Hoover's closest friend in official Washington.

Mrs. Vernon Kellogg, wife of the scientist, and Mrs. Mark Sullivan, wife of the newsman, are other friends of Mrs. Hoover who have entered the White House circle.

The lady whose home is now the White House has defined a home as follows: "A place where people who love each other can spend their leisure hours, and a certain number of working hours, happily together."