Words for the Faithful

Travel without politicking is more unthinkable to Harry Truman than a morning without a brisk walk. As if to prove it, he canceled his regular walk on his first bright, breezy morning in San Francisco last week to try to make peace among California's demoralized, feuding Democrats. First he held court in his second-floor Fairmont Hotel suite for a procession of party leaders. Then he dropped down to the Fairmont's soft-lighted Gold Room for a lunch of crabmeat cocktail and turkey breast, and a full-throated political stump speech to Democrats from eleven Western states, Hawaii and Alaska.

"You know," he began, "it's good to get together with a group of Democrats, especially an enthusiastic group like this." But he stirred up little enthusiasm from the party faithful when he swung into his familiar campaign song about the "special interests," "the special-privilege boys," "the economic fossils," "the pullbacks" and the "anti's" who were crippling the Fair Deal. The audience was unimpressed, even when he tried out a retreaded New Deal slogan as a theme for the next election: "Are you better off today than you were in the last year of the Old Deal?"

The Middle of the Ring. Undismayed, Harry Truman tried one more chord: "The Democratic Party has a duty to the country, and if I am not badly mistaken, the Democratic Party is going to keep right on carrying out that duty." He paused for the ovation that didn't come. "Next year!" he shouted. Still silence. "1952!" Finally they got the idea, and the applause rolled out.

"You interrupted me," said the President with a grin. "I don't know who the Democratic candidates will be next year, but I do know this . . . They will fight for all the people." This time the Democrats clapped and roared on cue. Said Navy Secretary Dan Kimball later: "There is no chance that he will not run ... He hit the middle of the ring [with his hat]." (Said Harry Truman, when a reporter put the question next day: "It wasn't my hat. It wasn't my hat.")

That night he changed to a dark suit to open the Japanese Peace Treaty Conference. Next morning, he roared out of town aboard the Independence, bound for Kansas City. For the last hour of the trip, the big plane skimmed low over the newly flooded areas of the Kaw Valley in eastern Kansas. "It looks pretty bad," the President remarked as he landed in his home state. He saw Bess, waiting. "I'm as tired as I can be," he sighed.

Stripes & Bars. But he was wide awake and watchful the following day when he inspected the tragic destruction in the Armourdale, Argentine and Central Industrial districts of Kansas City, Kans. still sodden and stinking from the silt and wreckage of July's flood. Later, with Missouri's Governor Forrest Smith, he talked over ways & means of providing more federal aid for thousands of homeless and impoverished flood victims. Then, before the Independence whisked him back to Washington, he was off to the dedication of a new armory in Kansas City, where he dropped a fascinating footnote to the Truman military career.

"When I got my warrant as corporal, I think that was the proudest day I ever spent in the military," said he. "I never was a 2nd lieutenant, much to my regret." His old Battery B mates offered an explanation for the strange jump from stripes to silver bars: Up until last June Missouri National Guard officers were elected, and Harry Truman was promoted by vote of his buddies directly to 1st lieutenant.

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