Janitor-Emeritus

Harry Parker had held various jobs around the Capitol for 17 years before he went over to the potent House Ways & Means Committee as janitor. At that time Chairman William McKinley, beaten in the 1890 elections, was packing up for Ohio. Mr. McKinley left his Bible for Harry. Years later Sereno Elisha Payne, chairman of the Committee during Taft's Administration, gave him his furniture. Oscar Underwood's legacy was a complete wardrobe including a big Stetson hat.

Last week to Harry Parker, having bowed and waddled through Congressional corridors for 63 years, came the finest gift of all: his $130 monthly salary as long as he lives, plus a tribute from the House of Representatives in fine oratorical style. Harry Parker, gleaming in the gallery, sporting a necktie as yellow as the pine-apple-orangeades he serves, heard himself declared faithful . . . loyal . . . cheery . . . diligent . . . courteous. . . .

Said North Carolina's Carter Warren: "Mr. Speaker, Harry is tired. He is 'wore out.' His feet hurt him. Now, you have got to come from my section or from Georgia or Mississippi to know what it means when an old colored man's feet begin to always hurt him." After a rousing demonstration that lasted a full minute, the House voted, 340-10-0, to create Harry janitor-emeritus of the Ways & Means Committee.

Unlike some other popular servants, Harry will not have to retire. He can hang around and make himself at home the rest of his life because he is "just as much a part of this institution as is the dome over this building." Since Harry's chief functions are guarding the committee's door and running errands, observers believed last week that Harry would continue to sit by the door, let his assistant do the leg work. If that young buck (to be chosen by Harry) serves as wisely & well for the next 63 years he, too, may get an assistant. That would be in the year 2,000.

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