Seventieth Sits

Six months silent, the Capitol on Monday again rumbled and bumbled with the confusion of many voices that tells the country Congress is in session. Like reluctant school boys, Senators and Representatives came trooping back to open the second session of the 70th Congress.

A bare breeze riffled the three flags atop the nation's law factory. The air was mild and misty. Many people, spectators, workers, newsmen, scurried around the wide plazas. Big autos zipped back and forth importantly.

It took the House 60 minutes to plow through the hoary formalities of getting down to legislative business, the Senate 15. Then, exhausted, they both adjourned, to receive the President's message (see p 9).

Ahead of them stretches a flexible program. Nine apropriations bills must be passed before March 4 to finance the governmental machine after July 1. Boulder dam, 15 new cruisers for the Navy, the Kellogg anti-war treaty--these are the Senate's immediate job. In the House is gossip of a rivers and harbors bill, of reapportionment. Farm relief casts a streaky shadow of uncertainty across all plans and farther in the background lurks tariff revision.

Long before the noon hour of meeting, members congregated on the House floor to talk, to listen, to laugh, to mill around, to exude cordiality, to slap backs, to wring friendly hands, to encircle familiar shoulders. Two prime conversational topics predominated:

1) The election and how it went, precinct by precinct, in each Congressional district.

2) The unwelcome possibility of an extraordinary session of the 71st Congress after March 4.

Little reception knots formed about the House floor. Veterans, committee chairmen, held court. The four women members, all in black, greeted their many admirers. New York's Snell (Rules Committee) stood behind his aisle table, frowning, sharpening a pencil with a blunt watch chain knife. Leader Tilson beamed at his flock and rearranged neatly typed resolutions on blue paper. The galleries, splotched with color, were long ago overflowing. Mrs. Alice Longworth, the Speaker's wife, was there, incognito, because she failed to remove her brown hat and reveal her gleaming hair.

Suddenly lights flashed on in the glass-paneled ceiling, with theatre footlight effect. Instead of a rising curtain, Speaker Longworth, with jaunty step, mounted the rostrum, struck his gavel twice upon the block and called above the din: "The House will be in order." Opposite him the hands of the big gilt clock exactly met at the top of the dial.

Chaplain Montgomery prayed for three minutes. From gallery corners cameras clicked and movie men cranked, grateful for the brief immobility of the house. Its membership was caught by the prayer in disordered patterns.

"Alabama--John McDuffie--Here."

Clerk Chaffee was calling the roll by states. His thin, persistent voice was swallowed up in the roar of more informal talk. Each Congressman had so much to say--and life was so short. The Speaker fidgeted his gavel handle for order but didn't get it. In front of him the well of the House grew crowded with would-be attendants cupping their ears to catch their names. The membership rattled on. They eddied down out of the aisles into a tight packed mass. Handshaking went on ceaselessly. Indiana's Wood (appropriation boss) and Wisconsin's Berger (lone Socialist) collided in the melee, thumbed shoulders joyously, laughed, separated. Snell and Texas' Garner mounted the Speaker's platform, joshing. The Speaker was drawn into their fun. All held hands fondly.

After 30 minutes' confusion, Leader Tilson suggested all sit down for the second round of the call, "so no one will be missed." Fifteen minutes later the fact is startlingly announced that 374 members are present.

The last 15 minutes is given over to the announcement of a resignation, the swearing in of seven new members, and the adoption of "profound sorrow" resolutions on the death of six members during the recess.

A resolution to notify the President that the House was ready to do business with him brought an objection from Ohio's Fitzgerald. His complaint was that the House was not properly organized, as no reapportionment under the 1920 census had been executed as requested by the Constitution.

New York's witty Clarke asked him if he hadn't been drawing his salary just the same. Laughter squelched the objection. Adjournment was then taken "as a further mark of respect" to deceased members.

In the Senate the procedure was essentially the same, though less raucous, more dignified. Its members circulated about in friendly fashion. Leader Curtis ambled down the aisle to shake hands with his ex-rival Robinson. Blease of South Carolina blossomed out in a dark red vest. Simmons and Heflin, wearing broad "I-told-you-so" looks, were apparently received by other Democrats without rancor.

Watson shuttled in and out of the throng, creating good will for his candidacy as majority leader to succeed Curtis. Jones, "receptive" candidate, fussed with papers on his desk. The Indianian's slick promises have given him the inside track. He started his "campaign" immediately after November 6th by lining up Senate vote over long-distance telephone.

Hiram Johnson, hands folded complacently, awaited the battle of Boulder Dam, the Senate's first business. Arizona's Ash-hurst smiled antagonism at him from across the center gangway.

Roll call, three new senators sworn in (Vandenberg, Michigan; Thomas, Idaho; Glenn, Illinois) adjournment for death of Idaho's Gooding rounded out the Senate's first day's activities.