Again, Walker

Washington, where visiting shows are thoroughly appreciated, was entertained last week by a one-man act which gained fame on European circuits last summer and on the Southern circuit last month.

The act opened at a hotel breakfast table. James J. Walker, the dapper, glib, little mick who is Mayor of New York, was pleading with photographers and newsgatherers. He held up his coffee cup. "I really want to drink it," he said.

The telephone rang and said, "Secretary Mellon will wait 15 minutes longer for you." Mayor Walker eased into his modish overcoat and observed: "I am happy wherever I am. That's why I hate to leave."

Photographers begged for one more picture, on the hotel steps with the manager. Mayor Walker, letting Secretary Mellon wait, obliged. Then he motored to the Treasury Department. The chauffeur wanted to stop at the Secretary's private entrance but Mayor Walker wisecracked: "Better go in the regular way, although I've been thrown out of better places than that."

Treasury stenographers crowded out to see the visiting comedian. "Just like the City Hall," he chirped. "Nobody works here."

Secretary Mellon, waiting inside with Attorney General Sargent and Postmaster General New, at last received the Mayor, who thereupon had to be photographed for 15 minutes more. While the cameras ticked, Postmaster General New remarked: "It's a hell of a long time for a New Yorker to be still."

The New Yorker piped back: "What we can't cure we have to endure."

The cabinet gentlemen then heard his arguments about a new Federal building in Manhattan and moving a New York postoffice. When the Mayor emerged it was 12.25 p.m. He had been due at the White House at noon.

Secretary Everett Sanders, knowing the chronic Walker tardiness, had reserved no definite portion of President Coolidge's time, but the latter would ordinarily have gone to lunch before 12.32 p.m. when Mayor Walker breezed in.

"Glad to meet you, Mr. Mayor."

"Glad to meet you, Mr. President."

"What luck are you having here?"

"I hope to succeed."

Newsgatherers asked later what the two had talked about. "About three minutes," grinned the Mayor. He said President Coolidge was "a peach;" Postmaster General New, "all to the good;" Attorney General Sargent, "pretty hard-boiled;" Secretary Mellon, "one of the most delightful personalities I ever met. I can see why people who know him like Mr. Mellon. I liked him first rate."

At the Senate office building, Mayor Walker rapped with his cane on the door of a fellow Tammany-man, Senator Wagner. After cheers and handshaking, the party rode to the Capitol on the "subway" (a small, electric, underground train connecting the Senators' offices with their clubroom).

Hearing that Senator Heflin had the floor, Mayor Walker riposted: "That means nothing is being said."

At the House end of the Capitol were Speaker Longworth's pink face and chubby smile.

Mayor: "You told me the best joke I ever heard."

Speaker: "There's a lady present."

Mayor: "Oh, I'm not going to tell it."

A Congressman: "Don't you want to come in and see where the laws of this great country are made?"

Mayor: "No, I'd rather keep my good opinion of my country."

Some one telephoned the railroad station to hold a train and Mayor Walker rushed to board it.

Next day, an indignant press headlined: "Walker's Tardiness Keeps President Waiting. . . . Also Delays Mellon, New and Sargent." In Manhattan, the wily Mayor blamed "an energetic and hectic life with newspaper men." Also he wisecracked: "I was a little bit late." Then he announced sternly: "I expect to be measured by accomplishment, not by a time table. I do more work than any man in this city."

New Yorkers smiled once more at their Mayor's incurable wit.

The next engagement of the Walker act is on April 9, when Mayor Walker will, for some reason, be headman at the ceremonious unveiling of the Stone Mountain Memorial at Atlanta, Ga., to the armies of the Confederacy.