Return Engagement

Washington last week was like a theater just before curtain time: the scenery got a last hasty shove, programs rustled, fiddles tuned up. Out in the country, citizens held on to their hats. The 78th Congress was coming back.

Stage Set. With Ivory soap and water, four Negro men scrubbed away languidly at the 73 bulky figures in Statuary Hall. Capitol Architect David Lynn fretted: 1) this is the year (once in every four) when the Capitol dome should--but will not--be repainted; 2) the statue of Freedom atop the dome needs--but will not get--a touching-up on head, feathers, shoulders and shield with ten lightning-safe bronze points.

House Restaurant Manager William A. Brockwell welcomed back his full quota of 25 rarer-than-porterhouse waiters (Congressmen are generous tippers). After a realistic look at Washington's laundry problem, Restaurateur Brockwell took the linen off all tables except those reserved exclusively for members.

Curtain Up. In his office, elegant Kenneth Romney, Sergeant at Arms of the U.S. House of Representatives, contemplated the 102-year-old mace, 12-lb. symbol of U.S. legislative authority. The mace (which has no counterpart in either Senate or Supreme Court) is an impressive, 46-in. staff topped by a silver eagle. It is solemnly carried to the Speaker's stand each morning Congress is in session, is solemnly returned each evening to the office of Romney, its 25th keeper. In this session the mace may have especial significance, if the last angry session showed a trend. For when members get unruly and out-of-hand, the symbol of authority is borne around the floor, whereupon all members must resume their seats. In the present session, the mace may have to be brandished.

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