A Milestone for Princess Malice

Alice Roosevelt Longworth, who has been described as "Washington's other monument," is unique among Americans: daughter of President Theodore Roosevelt, widow of House Speaker Nicholas Longworth (who died in 1931), personally acquainted with every President since Benjamin Harrison, indomitable doyenne on the Washington social circuit for decades. The nation's mighty court her, celebrities seek invitations to tea, Washington taxi drivers lean out and yell, "Hi, Alice!" Marking her 90th birthday this week, "Princess Alice," an affectionate sobriquet from her White House years, continues to survey the capital scene from her rambling mansion on Washington's Embassy Row. TIME'S Bonnie Angelo called on the irrepressible grande dame recently and found her in zesty good form:

"Being 90 is a bore," says Alice Roosevelt Longworth. She pulls a twisted ivory narwhal tusk (a gift from Rear Admiral Peary) from a corner of her drawing room, brandishes it like a spear, strikes a Brunhilde pose-then roars with laughter at her performance, flashing an abundance of Roosevelt teeth. At 90, she is as defiantly unconventional as she was in the opening years of the century, when the nation was never sure whether to be delighted or mortified by her then shocking antics-donning riding breeches, driving an automobile, smoking cigarettes, jumping fully clothed into a swimming pool. "Outrageous?" she asks. "Not at all. If I had jumped in without my clothes, that would have been outrageous."

In a 1957 interview, she observed that "you have to have a bit of malice to be a good hostess," and she has been a very good hostess indeed. "I'm afraid I'm rather malevolent about people," she says without a hint of contrition. Embroidered on a small pillow in a second-floor drawing room is her favorite maxim: "If you haven't got anything good to say about anyone, come and sit by me."

An invitation to her place for afternoon tea (which she serves at such choking strength that Comedian Bob Hope once quipped, "She is the only person I know who drinks pot") can include telling glimpses of her own haphazard personal museum-a four-story potpourri drawn from history, whimsy and a driving intellect. "Mrs. Longworth operates the most interesting disorderly house in Washington," an admiring guest once noted. Visitors encounter thousands of stacked books, a calendar of personal engagements from 1907, a 15-ft. tiger skin that was a gift from the Dowager Empress of China, a drawing of a Chinese tiger (she calls the beast "Dean Acheson" and notes, "He loved it when I said it looked like him"), an African voodoo mask slipped over the head of a replica of the Statue of Liberty.

For all the memorabilia, Mrs. Longworth is hardly one to live in the distant past. "Nostalgia? God, no! What more interesting time than this?" Though friends often ask, she usually declines to discuss the shaky current Watergate situation of President Nixon, a friend for 20 years. But she does offer a biting appraisal of the new Vice President: "I've never met him, but I used to spend time in Ohio, and they turn out Jerry Fords by the bale." Robert Kennedy was her favorite public figure of the 1960s; they traded friendly insults with gusto. She is charmed by Henry Kissinger, and regrets the fact that illness recently caused her to miss the chance to size up for herself U.S. District Court Judge John J. Sirica.

Since she was all of six years old when she was granted her first personal audience with a President-Benjamin Harrison, whom she described as "a solemn, bearded gnome"-she is not a bit awed by Chief Executives or their families. She mimicked Taft behind his back, called McKinley and his wife "a pair of usurping cuckoos," and found Harding "not the worst President-just the most inferior man." She can still deliver a devastatingly accurate miming of her cousin Eleanor Roosevelt, in a shrill and toothy impersonation. She confesses to writing ballads "too nasty for words" about Woodrow Wilson, and dismisses Dwight Eisenhower as "a poor boob."

Poison Ivy. Washingtonians regard an invitation to tea from Mrs. Longworth as the most prestigious in the capital. Presidents John F. Kennedy, Lyndon Johnson and Richard Nixon all made their way through the pachysandra and poison ivy, a characteristic personal touch, to call on her. Recently Julie Nixon Eisenhower asked Mrs. Longworth if people were as "mean" to White House occupants in her day as they are now. "Much worse," Mrs. Longworth blithely answered. "There were awful stories about us-how we laughed at them!"

Her interest in the world is constantly fed by the books she reads far into the night. She sleeps through the morning, skips lunch and begins her day at 2 p.m. She studies Greek, loves Greek poetry, in conversation is apt to quote passages verbatim from Pope, Kipling or the Bible. She is fascinated by modern science-quasars, DNA, space exploration, even quantum mechanics-and regularly prowls her favorite Washington bookstores, a familiar figure in her broad-brimmed hat.

Always rambunctious, but more fragile-looking than ever after undergoing serious operations in recent years, she used to describe herself as "a withered Twiggy," now avows brightly: "The tooth of time is gnawing at this ancient carcass." Still, her rollicking sense of fun has never left her. Not long ago at a dinner party given by Washington Columnist Tom Braden, she pretzeled herself into the lotus position and wrapped a live boa constrictor-the pet of a Braden daughter-around her neck, creating havoc among the astonished dinner guests. "I'm one of those show-off Roosevelts," she offers, as if explaining a gene mutation.

Soon after taking office, her father lamented: "I can either run the country or control Alice-but not both." Theodore Roosevelt took the easy way out. He ran the country.

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