The Women

The Democrats did not overlook the fact that they had some wonderfully interesting female exhibits: two lady diplomats, one lady treasurer, two lady vice-presidential aspirants and one world-famous lady delegate to the United Nations. Unlike the Republicans, the Democratic program-makers managed to give the impression that they were proud of their women leaders. However, the Democratic women speakers, like the Republican women before them, tended to take off from the phrase "we women" in discussing all problems--as if women were either class B or class AA citizens.

The two lady diplomats were not howling oratorical successes. Mrs. Perle Mesta, party-giving U.S. envoy to Luxembourg, called her speech "Women as Partners." She began by saying: "This is one of the most exciting moments of my life," a line which might have been lifted straight from Call Me Madam, a musical comedy about her. Sample cliches from her address : "It is a great thing to be an American woman ... In America today women are a tremendous force." Mrs. Mesta wore a chic black dress and liberal strands of pearls and looked, withal, as though she had just come in from cooking over a hot stove.

The Babble. All the ladies were forced to talk into a dismaying babble from the delegates. Minnesota's handsome, fair Mrs. Eugenie Anderson, U.S. Ambassador to Denmark, did achieve one moment of triumph. During a slight lull she cried that the Democrats had to go on demonstrating that basic policies were "made by our civilians . . . and . . . not ... by generals --in or out of uniform!" The crowd gave her a rousing hand.

There were few on the floor and undoubtedly few among televiewers who did not stare with interest at pert, grey-haired, 52-year-old Mrs. Georgia Neese Clark, the Treasurer of the U.S. The reason: it is one of Mrs. Clark's duties and privileges to affix her signature to the lower left-hand corner of all paper money. She hoped, she said, that everyone in the hall had "many dollar bills with my signature . . ."

Hefty, hearty Mrs. India Edwards--vice chairman of the Democratic National Committee and a woman with an eye on the vice-presidency--gave the convention a change of pace. She tramped to the speaker's stand splendidly corseted, and garbed in lacy black. She clasped her hands over her head and mitted the crowd. Then she cried--of its treatment of the other women speakers--"You were exceedingly rude!" Amid the startled applause she fogged in some fast opening lines:

The Gavel. "I come to you not just as an official of the Democratic Party. I come as a woman, a wife who wore a Gold Star in World War I and a mother who wore a

Gold Star in World War II . . ." She abhorred war, she said, but called on her sex to demand that the U.S. live up to its military responsibilities. When the crowd grew noisy she seized the gavel and whacked away with it like a section hand driving a spike. When she was done, half the delegates came to their feet to cheer. "I would have appreciated a little silence more," said Mrs. India Edwards grimly.-

The biggest ovation was reserved for Mrs. Franklin D. Roosevelt, whose new frizzy hairdo made her look like a genial golliwogg. She was introduced by Massachusetts' Governor Dever as the "first lady of the world." Her arrival also set off a startling display of acrimony from Southern delegations, many of whom snubbed her pointedly by remaining seated during the 20 minutes of cheering which followed her entrance. Her speech seemed anticlimactic--an earnest, high-school debating case for the U.N. Most of the delegates joined in a tremendous outburst of applause when she was done.

In 32 years since they got the vote, women had never before cut such a swath at a national political convention. Besides the big-name women, there were 525 women delegates and alternates.

*She made many a delegate wonder who Mr. Edwards might be. He is Herbert Threlkeld Edwards, Acting Assistant Administrator of the Motion Picture Service of the International Information Administration of the Department of State and Mrs. Edwards' third husband. Her first, Dan Sharp, died in action in World War I. She was married again in 1920 to John Moffett, a Chicago broker; they were divorced in 1937.

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