Frolic

In 1923 they twitted Senator Magnus ("Magnavox") Johnson about his Swedish accent; jibed at the silence of President Coolidge; had a bogus official with much chin foliage sing:

The Johnsons rave, the Borahs howl

The Underwoods accuse. But, Yes, we have no policy

Excepting Mr. Hughes.

In 1924 they were still celebrating the Coolidge silence, razzing the just-defeated John W. Davis and making impersonators of "the Bryan boys" sing:

We ain't gonna run no mo', no mo',

We ain't gonna run no mo'.

Last week at their annual winter dinner and "frolic," they, the members of the Gridiron Club of Washington, D. C., newsgatherers all, found fresh sources for fresh fun. The President, the Vice President, most of the Cabinet, many of the Senate, many of the House and a sprinkling of foreign diplomats took their seats, to be suddenly startled by the furious ringing of bells. A messenger entered bearing an alarm clock which he said was for Vice President Dawes. The messenger was rebuked for reviving an old source of embarrassment to Mr. Dawes . . . the nap he took when his presence in the Senate would have broken a tie and made Charles B. Warren Attorney General.*

The Coolidge silence was no longer a butt. Fishing took its place, in a song that said, ". . . you must be an outdoor man like Calvin Coolidge." Uncle Sam was shown being shouldered off the front pages and into the funny papers by roaming royalty, the Hall-Mills case, Aimee Semple McPherson and a Chicago gunman. "How about another Bruce Barton interview with President Coolidge?" asked Uncle Sam. "Apply at the business office," said the editor, "for rates on political advertising."

There was a lame composition about primary slush funds, entitled "Show That Fellow the Door.' They sang Senator Shipstead's farewell to his Farmer-Labor Party and a none too ingenious parody intended to represent Senator James A. Reed:

For the red, red licker with its kick, kick, kicker

Is going fast. . .

Sherlock Holmes appeared, looking for the Party that lost the last election. There was a drama called "Under the Slippery Elms (of Vermont)" wherein "Pa" Butler and "Ma" Stearns were raising the Third-Term Baby. They had many farmhands and chore-boys--Calvin, Borah, Dawes, Lowden, Longworth.

Pa: "Where's thet Calvin?"

Longworth: "Calvin's gone fishin'"

Pa: "Always fishin', but don't ketch nothin'."

(Ma enters with the Third Term Baby, explaining that Calvin is very fond of the infant.)

Ma: "You ought to see him shinin' up to it in his quiet way when he thinks nobody is lookin'. He's afeared it won't grow fast enough and he's always feedin' it on the sly."

Farmhands: "What's he give it?"

Ma: "Mostly Mellon's food."

One joke only was a real Gridironed perennial. In the cinema travelogue there was a slide of a ruined Roman town. The caption: "A view of the League of Nations taken with an Administration camera."

* A lapse recently referred to jestingly when an ignorant attorney before the Supreme Court insisted that Mr. Warren was Attorney General, and the Court was obliged to correct him patiently.