Brouhaha in the Hagertorium

Right from the start, the British press had known in its heart of hearts that little solidly detailed news could be expected from President Eisenhower's private, informal talks with Prime Minister Macmillan. Touring Europe to sound out old allies on the eve of this month's visit from Russia's Khrushchev, Eisenhower was hardly likely to spread out his cards to please newsmen--and let the Russians count the pips. Even so, British newsmen built up tall hopes for high headlines. And when they were disappointed, they turned with fury on the handiest fall guy: Presidential Press Secretary James Hagerty.

The British press had been hopefully counting on Old Reporter Jim Hagerty. who has a reputation in the U.S. for doing his well-trained best to bust loose the news. Said a London Observer profile on Hagerty on the eve of Ike's visit: "Even when competing with the smooth liquefaction and intelligently directed asides of the Foreign Office spokesman, his authority, his singlemindedness, his bristling, barbed personality still dominate." But from the beginning of President Eisenhower's British stay, Hagerty had his troubles. He met the press (400 strong, including 50 Washington newsmen) in a stuffy white tent on Carlton House Terrace that was promptly dubbed the "Hagertorium." Earlier Hagerty had startled newsmen by referring to Germany's Chancellor Konrad Adenauer as "Konnie." In the Hagertorium, he angered them by resolutely refusing searching questions ("If anyone thinks I'm going to answer that . . .").

"M-e-l-o-n." Under orders from President Eisenhower not to spill the beans of Ike's private talks with Macmillan, Hagerty fell back on trivia, soon began sounding like a parody of himself. A sample Hagerty announcement: "I have one bit of hard news. Mr. Berding∣State Department press officer∣ was asked this morning if the President was sleeping in a four-poster bed, and the answer is yes, and also if he had ever slept before in a four-poster bed, and the answer is also yes."

If anything, the job of Foreign Office Spokesman Peter Hope was even worse. Suave, suntanned, handkerchief in his sleeve--embodying, as the Observer wrote, "the Foreign Office's distrust of the whole notion of press relations"--Hope applied his cool diction to reciting the food consumed by Eisenhower and Macmillan ("Charentais melon, sole Duglere"), pausing to spell out words down to and including m-e-l-o-n for the benefit of reporters.

"Bunkum." The mercurial British press blew its stack. "Fatuous bunkum . . . that would make the angels puke." cried James Cameron in the News Chronicle. "Of what really goes on in high places one emerges from that ludicrous marquee with a blinding ignorance. Applauded by many an American newsman, the Daily Herald's Hugh Pilcher wrathfully arose in the Hagertorium to fire some questions: "Mr. Hagerty. are any of us to take these briefings seriously? Are we going to hear anything about the great international issues, or are we going to hear simply what they ate and not what they said? Now a straight answer for once."

Gripping the table to control his Irish temper, Jim Hagerty replied with unexpected docility that he "would expect" the forthcoming television chat of Eisenhower and Macmillan to include a report on the issues. When the program produced mostly generalizations,, newsmen looking for amplification found that Hagerty and the British spokesmen were "unavailable."

Iron & Haggis. That again enraged British newsmen. But their biggest gripe was that President Eisenhower refused to hold a press conference, although he had done so in West Germany. In rebuttal, Hagerty stubbornly and rightly maintained that Eisenhower was not at the beck and call of the press: "The President of the United States is here as a Chief of State, and he makes his own decisions." (Beyond that, British Prime Ministers never grant on-the-record press conferences.)

By the end of Eisenhower's visit, this iron streak of Hagerty's in standing up to the daily hammering by the press had won the grudging admiration of many British newsmen. The night before Eisenhower left, one hitherto critical Fleet Streeter declared: "We have learned to regard you here as a friend and helper." Then he added: "Should the President come back again, we shall try to ask you questions such as 'Will he be having haggis for lunch?' " Deadpanned Jim' Hagerty: "Thank you very much. I appreciate it."

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