Shoot If You Must

As the presidential train rolled west, Winston Churchill fiddled with his speech until his press relations man finally got it away from him for mimeographing. The old man chatted with Harry Truman, showed off his knowledge of American history, made a creditable stab at reciting from memory Whittier's Barbara Frietchie: "Up from the meadows rich with corn, clear in the cool September morn. . . ." According to his custom, before dinner he rapidly downed five Scotch highballs.

Under a threatening midwest sky, he rode into Fulton, Mo. (pop. 8,300), in Westminster College's packed gymnasium delivered his speech and received his honorary LL.D. degree from President Franc L. McCluer.

In the scarlet robe and black plush cap of an Oxford doctor, he stumped into Dr. McCluer's living room, tired but happy. A photographer's bulb exploded. "There must be a Russian in the house," he grinned. His valet slipped him a slug of brandy to reinforce him. Then Winston Churchill stood in the reception line.

By evening he was off, leaving behind him in Fulton a mountain of rolls, nearly a ton of hot dogs; Fulton had exuberantly expected 40,000; less than 23,000 came. His train rolled east again, while the old man read the papers that were brought him, his pink face lengthening, his blue eyes hardening at the angry editorial comment his speech had aroused. He rested briefly in Washington.

The Bells of St. James's. Richmond's lawns were greening when he arrived in Virginia next day by train. There was a cold drizzle. Winston Churchill pulled a short raincoat over his striped trousers and black coat and got into an open car, gripping a gold-headed cane, puffing a cigar, grinning at the crowds from under his black Homburg. He raised his hand in the familiar V-sign. His old friend Ike Eisenhower was with him. As their car swished along the wet streets, the bells of St. James's Church pealed out God Save the King.

In the grey, square State Capitol of Virginia he paused before a statue of Washington, then went in and addressed the joint Assembly, eloquently emphasizing what he had said in Fulton, paying homage to Virginia's history, slipping up on the middle initial of Robert E. Lee but remembering for the sake of his Southern hosts to change his prepared text from "the great American Civil War" to "the great war of the American States." The Virginians cheered.

He clapped when the crowd yelled for a speech from Eisenhower. Said Eisenhower: "Only history can measure even remotely the true value of the service [Churchill] rendered to all of us."

Recollection of a Past. That afternoon Churchill was in Williamsburg, the colonial town which John D. Rockefeller Jr. has carefully restored, even to the colonial fac,ade on the A. & P. store. It proved a dangerous expedition back into the historical past. He and Eisenhower had climbed into an 18th-Century coach when the horses, frightened by the photographers' flash bulbs, suddenly plunged and reared. Women screamed. Negro drivers grabbed at the reins. Eisenhower solicitously grasped Churchill's arm. Churchill, outwardly unmoved, puffed on his cigar, occasionally doffed his hat and gave his V-sign.

Anxious officials decided that the pair had better walk. John D. Rockefeller III, host for the day, apologized. "I'm afraid we've let you down." Said Churchill: "Don't mind, old boy. I'm enjoying it." He went into the Wren Building, where hangs a plaque commemorating the surrender of Cornwallis at Yorktown. He slumped into a chair for a moment, got up and solemnly did the rounds, a long cigar stuck in his mouth. Then he left for tea and finally for dinner with Mr. Rockefeller and General Eisenhower--crabmeat, terrapin, fried chicken, sweet potato souffle, asparagus, Virginia ham, cheese, strawberry ice cream, cigars, and on the side, sherry, champagne, brandies, liqueurs.

At week's end Winston Churchill returned to Washington, where he sat briefly for a portrait by Artist Douglas Chandor. It was the late Franklin Roosevelt's idea to have portraits painted of the three men who met at Yalta. Afterwards Chandor will go to Moscow and do Stalin. Churchill's sternly cherubic visage, if faithfully portrayed, will show no sign of regret at anything he had said about the postwar policies of his old Russian confrere.

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