"Who, Me?"

At the end of the fiscal year last week, the 82nd Congress had not passed a single regular appropriation. There had been fundless days before, when one or another department failed to get its moneys voted. This time Congress had failed to provide a single dime for any part of the U.S. Government after July 1. In a last-minute spasm--after jamming through the controls extension (see above)--with characteristic confusion, wild errors and panicky haste, Congress jammed through a 31-day authorization to continue spending. It will be three weeks before the $8.5 billion foreign military aid bill even gets out of the House committee, a month before the Armed Services bill gets to the floor.

On its record so far, the 82nd qualified as one of the worst in history. No other Congress, not even the Republican 80th, which Harry Truman called the worst, was ever so far behind in its work.

"That Man." Congress would have to pay for its sins of omission by getting no summer vacation. To get its "must" legislation through, it will probably have to keep on going at least until Oct. 1. Naturally, no single man or faction would take the blame. Everyone wore a "Who, me?" expression. Each protested that he had only been trying to do what was best for the U.S. Then who was to blame?

"That man in the White House," said many. And in fact, most of the time Harry Truman appeared to be riding his program no-hands, only putting his head down and beginning to pump when he saw some political advantage. He had given his supporters in Congress almost no help. More than once he had left them in the lurch. But to lay it all on Harry Truman was to overlook the 82nd's own wobblings, digressions and busyness with grubby politics.

The 82nd was politically atomized--only nominally Democratic. The House breaks down like this: 115 Southern Democrats, 120 Fair Deal Democrats, 165 regular Republicans, 35 lonely liberal Republicans. The best organized factions, the Southern Democrats and regular Republicans, could unite and did on one negative course: bilking Harry Truman. Republican motives were obvious. Southern Democrats were still going around with old Truman spears sticking out of their hides. Some of the bitterest denunciations of the President came in Dixie accents. Almost every day a new dirty Truman story guffawed out of Democratic cloakrooms.

"Where Are We At?" In the face of such opposition, Truman Democrats had neither the leadership nor the internal strength to do anything. The most astute Administration leader in Congress was 69-year-old Speaker Sam Rayburn of Texas, who, besides having nothing to lead, was himself a political hybrid: half Fair Dealer, half Southern Democrat. Majority Leader McFarland in the Senate was no leader at all, nor was he undeviatingly loyal to the White House (see above). The regular Democrats had little control over committees, where legislation is corked up, or any real control over bills when they reached the floor.

It was not a do-nothing Congress. It had worked its head off at watchdogging (which is also a proper part of its function), spending twelve weeks arguing about the President's right to send troops to Europe, twelve weeks investigating crime, eight weeks investigating the MacArthur affair. But much of that activity would resolve into nothing more than a stack of faded clippings. Meanwhile, "the world's greatest legislative body" dragged confusedly along on its main work.

Last week Senator Tobey said: "I have a profound parliamentary inquiry to propound at this time to the distinguished occupant of the chair [Iowa's Guy Gillette], It is, in a few words: Where are we at?"

Gillette might have replied, but didn't: We ain't.

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