The Seventieth

When the flags fly; as they did Monday for the first time since March, over the two boxlike wings of the high domed Capitol, the people of the U. S. are given to understand their will is being done. Do congressmen understand it that way? They swear they do. But such is the dignity of congressional membership, especially in the Senate, that the popu- lar "you may" is almost inevitably superseded by the congressional "we do."

The psychology of Congress is one of proud fraternity, not humble serv ice.-The House of Representatives is like a somewhat rowdy lodge of 435 members. The Senate resembles a club of 96 much-mannered gentlemen -- "the greatest club in the world."

The clublike atmosphere of the Senate which met last week was troubled and murky with the tail of the same storm which foundered the 69th Senate. The new memberships of a gentleman from Pennsylvania and one from Illinois had been shown to have cost them and their friends more money than one could pleasantly admit. For Senator-elect Vare of Pennsylvania, a plurality of nearly a quar ter million votes -- including the votes of a dead man, a five-year-old girl and at least 25 people who did not vote -- had been procured at about three dol lars per vote in 12 of Pennsylvania's 67 counties. To Senator-elect Frank L. Smith of Illinois, who was Public Utilities Commissioner at the time of his campaign, much unexplained money had been given by Samuel Insull, Chicago Public Utilities tsar. In both states the people had twice affirmed their choice of these men, in primary and election, but that was before the Senate investigated "slush" funds. Words like "burglar" were flying last session when Senator David A. Reed of Pennsylvania retaliated upon his colleague-elect's chief persecutor, Senator James A. Reed of Missouri. With the Senate reconvened, "burglar" and worse were still in the air. The issue was joined again -- whether the states shall send whom they will, how they will, to the Senate, or whether the "greatest club" shall scrutinize and smell the records of all new members who apply at its door.

It was bright and slushy out of doors, bright and "slushy" within. The "greatest club" came leisurely to its club rooms. The fading green carpet muffled their footsteps and the vaulted ceiling swallowed their greet ings and conversation. Clerk Tom Crockett does not mind the bad acoustics. He used to be an actor and can hurl his voice, which cracks like a quarterback's, into the most remote corners of the gallery, even into the coatrooms.

Not long after Clerk Crockett had adjusted . his half -moon eye glasses and settled himself to inspect the Senate's new roster, in padded white moustached Senator Warren, oldest member of all (83), to look for something in his old brown desk, pat one of the page boys, inspect his pen nib. Then this "greatest shepherd since Abraham*" padded out again.

Mrs. Hiram Johnson of California entered the Senator's gallery, portending that her white crested husband was not far away. It was his duty this day to reintroduce his pompously paradoxical colleague, towering Senator Shortridge, who took oath for a fresh term.

Senator Ferris of Michigan was an early arrival--white silk mop, hands on hips, shaky step. A contrast was rangy Jones of Washing, ton with his nautical lurch, his busy concentration at his desk.

McKellar, the gladhanding Hibernian from Tennessee, blarneyed his way through a group containing dapper King of Utah, "the other Mormon" (Reed Smoot is the more famed). Even more dapper and noticeable was Ernst of Kentucky, "Ernstwhile a Senator," as someone joked, but not this session. For some reason, "Ernst while" Senator Ernst flitted about all day.

The most important Senator entered and soon shook hands with the most important-looking one. Swart Curtis of Kansas is most important because, from his quiet aisle seat in the back row, he leads the majority party. Most-important-looking, a veritable redundancy in statesman-hood with his elephantine frame, florid face and canary waistcoat, is Alabama's Heflin, who mortally hates and fears the Roman Pope.

Glass of Virginia, small, birdlike, came in and roosted quietly. So did "the duck hunting dentist," Shipstead of Minnesota, the one-man party (Farmer Labor). His popularity might distress a less determined man, for besides him the Senate numbers just 48 Republicans (nominally) and 47 Democrats. But Senator Shipstead can tell a Progressive hawk from a Republican handsaw. He signed up with four of the only-nominal Republicans--Nye, Frazier, Elaine, LaFollette--to demand action on farm relief, Federal injunctions and Latin American policies.

Of all the Senators, the youngest is one of the most troublesome to the regular Republicans. "Young Bob" LaFollette, chubby, shy and 33, does his young best to carry on as his Progressive father carried on before him. He was scheduled to reintroduce his resolution of last spring condemning presidential third terms. From the Democratic point of view it might seem like sending a boy on a man's errand to let "Young Bob" do this. But sometimes a boy does better than a man, especially on a saucy errand. Through "Young Bob" the Democrats will see their purpose served without loading themselves with responsibility or "radicalism." Similar Democrat-through-Progressive strategems may occur frequently this session.

The Senators-suspect came in. Mr. Smith seemed to lack the confidence which he displays in the print on a large signboard in front of his Illinois country home. He looked grateful for every handshake he got, every conversation" he was let into. Once he missed a handshake and had to fumble his coat button. The Senate is his life ambition -- and his seat was nearest the door.

Mr. Vare's seat was further with in the room. He walked in and sat upon it like an ostler at his master's wedding, awkward but proud, mortified but grinning, sheepish without shame. There was much in store for him to endure -- the prodding of Mississippi's Harrison, the cold twitting of Nebraska's Norris, the rabbit-punching of Missouri's Reed. The lat ter chewed softly on his cigar, glancing only now and again across the aisle where sat the other Reed, haggard but urbane, threatening to fili buster for his colleague.

To their desks they all came -- all but New Mexico's Jones, Delaware's duPont, Montana's stormy Walsh. Senator duPont had only lately had his larynx removed. Senator Walsh's eyes were bothering him and, hearing he was to have teeth extracted, some people wished the teeth could be removed from his methods at the same time. Having conducted the Oil Inquiry, he now plans a Power Probe.

In they came -- ruddy Robinson of Arkansas, chief Democrat, to confer good naturedly with any who passed by; his lieutenant Simmons, of North Carolina, who looked very bored; small-eyed Watson of Indiana, quieter than usual; Connecticut's Bingham, a tailor's joy with suave words for every one; Ashurst of Arizona, impressive as ever; flowery Blease of South Carolina who "loves all the citizens of America," New Hampshire's tart Moses, who would rather speak unexpectedly or not at all; Idaho's bearlike Borah.

Alone but not aloof sat the blind Senator, Minnesota's Schall. His whole outlook is different, says his wife, now that he has a German police dog, "Lux," to lead him.

Around and about, in and out, hands in pockets, wandered gray-suited, round-shouldered Caraway of Arkansas, shrewd sarcastigator. He hates to sit down and seldom does so. This morning he was caught far from his desk, between two pages down in front, as the prayer began.

After the prayer, roll call. Then Illinois got as far as the aisle. Mr. Vare did not even attempt to rise. By prearrangement Senator Norris, the parliamentary philosopher, voiced the objections of Insurgents and Democrats. The suspects "stood aside." In a perfunctory bark, Vice President Dawes declared the Seventieth Senate adjourned for the day.

*So called because, as Chairman of the Appropriations Committee, he guides whole flocks of bills.