No Chilling Arrangements

More than 175 reporters squeezed into the ornate, paneled Indian Treaty room of the old State Department building one broiling day last week for the President's press conference. Although the ancient wall thermometer registered only 84DEG, humidity and strong newsreel lights made the air seem twice as hot. The reporters sweat, mopped their brows, peeled off their jackets. Most of their questions were as soggy and limp as their collars.

Wearing a vest as usual, Dwight Eisenhower seemed to be the coolest person in the room. To a question implying that he "cannot refuse to run in 1956," he replied crisply: "That is a decision I have to reach for myself--some time." Asked if Congress should stay in session longer to act on his program, Ike responded with expression of mock horror, then grinned and said: "No, I just think that Congress, when it wants to, can do an awful lot in a very short time, and I am hopeful that they will do so." Coolly, the President answered a question about his surprise proclamation of martial law during last month's civil-defense test. He had taken no advance briefing on the test problems he was to face--"because . . . decisions should be made in the proper atmosphere of urgency ... I was suddenly told that 53 of the major cities of the U.S. had either been destroyed or so badly damaged that the populations were fleeing . . . There was. as I saw it, no recourse except to take charge instantly." The President, an old hand in giving realism to peacetime training maneuvers, took charge by issuing his proclamation, an item not foreseen by the test planners.

As the 32-minute press conference ended, one reporter asked a question that was on the minds of many: "Mr. President, whatever happened to that air-conditioned press room that you were thinking about?" Replied Ike: "When I came in, I was shocked. I thought we had some kind of chilling arrangements in here." As the President walked out, some reporters volunteered to lobby on Capitol Hill for a planned addition to the White House executive offices--including an air-conditioned conference room. "Good," said Ike.

Although he rarely bothers with public entertainment, President Eisenhower spent one air-conditioned afternoon last week watching a show, This Is Cinerama. As President, he has attended no plays, only one concert (the National Symphony in 1953) and one opera (the Metropolitan's road-company La Boheme last April). But he wanted to see the curved-screen Cinerama process. Since it could not be shown at the White House, the President and most of his staff went to a private showing at Washington's Warner Theater. Dutifully, a Secret Service agent--tall at that--sat in front of the President, who later moved to get a better view. Ike talked with Cinerama co-owner Lowell Thomas, lustily sang out along with the background choir--America the Beautiful and Battle Hymn of the Republic.

At week's end the President flew in his new light plane to the Gettysburg farm to join Mamie, who moved there June 10 after the official Washington social season.

Mrs. Eisenhower had been busily arranging the interior, putting up pictures, sorting out souvenirs, and shopping. Hatless and wearing a cotton print, she went to Sears. Roebuck in Chambersburg, Pa. to buy one kitchen item: a hand eggbeater.

During the weekend, Major John Eisenhower, his wife and their three children arrived from Fort Belvoir, Va. for a family reunion at the farm--the last before the President, accompanied by the First Lady, departs for Geneva and next week's Parley at the Summit.

Last week the President also:

P: Let a bill become law without his signature. He would not sign--but did not veto--a bill granting permanent U.S. residence to Aniceto M. Sparagna, 42, an apostate Italian priest. Sparagna used false affidavits (claiming a priestly assignment in New York) to get a religious-entry U.S. visa in 1950, later married and began preaching at the Church of Christ in West Collingswood, N.J.

P: Received, "with regret" a request from Allen Whitfield to withdraw Whitfield's name as a nominee for membership on the Atomic Energy Commission. Whitfield, an attorney and Republican leader of Des Moines. had been under fire from Democrats for his handling of an estate trusteeship before and during World War II. He said he could not answer a set of 24 questions from Senator Clinton Anderson, chairman of the Joint Atomic Energy Committee, without violating confidential relations with his clients.

P: Announced that he would address the nation Friday night at 8:15 E.D.T. on the national radio-TV networks. Subject: his "hopes for accomplishment" at the Parley at the Summit.

P: Appointed as a White House administrative officer E. Frederic Morrow, 44, the first Negro ever appointed to a top job in the U.S. executive offices.

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