Marked Change

There was no longer any doubt about it: the President of the U.S., once a scared little man overwhelmed by his duties, was enjoying his job and had found his own way to run it.

A case in point was last week's embarrassing snafu over rent controls. Word had seeped out that the Administration was leady to okay a blanket 10% raise in rents. An order to that effect had, in fact, been drawn by the Office of Temporary Controls. But the question promptly arose: Why should Harry Truman be saddled with this political liability? He wasn't. He made OTC Director Philip B. Fleming the goat, announced that he never had been in favor of a rent increase, and said the whole matter was up to Congress anyway--which it unquestionably was.

During Congress' first month in session, the President had found a method of giving Congress its full responsibility, without seeming to abdicate in its favor. This week he learned that, according to a Gallup poll, 48% of the people now think he is doing a good job--a rise of 16 points since last October. This did not alter the fact that most political observers still think the voters will want a change in '48.

The week's work was a breeze. The President combined social affairs (see The Capital) with business (principal item: a labor arbitration plan for the building industry), and had time left over to think about a bill which would prevent top officials from taking along government documents (such as the voluminous Morgenthau diary) when they leave Washington. For the second time this year he called in GOP and Democratic Congressional leaders for a "congenial meeting." Again they discussed such safe topics as extending the Maritime Commission's ship operating authority.

For the first time in a year, he had a full attendance at his Cabinet meeting. Gathered around the octagonal table, the Cabinet posed for its picture.

For next month the President had a real vacation in mind. He planned a nonstop flight to Mexico City for a visit with President Miguel Aleman. On the way back he would stop off at Waco, Tex., to get an honorary degree from Baylor University/- and later in the week go on to witness part of the Atlantic Fleet maneuvers in the Caribbean.

Not even the hazards of air travel could faze him. With smiling fatalism he explained: if your number is up it doesn't make any difference whether you're on a train or an airplane, or anything. If you're going to get it, you're going to get it.

/- When the degree was originally offered in the fall of 1945, the Rev. William L. Shuttleworth objected because the President "likes his poker and drinks his bourbon." Last week Mr. Shuttleworth was still intransigent: "The principle involved will not die with the granting of a degree."

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.