Mr. Gann Goes Out

Edward Everett Gann, an unassuming man, long led a quiet life in Washington. He practiced law, he made some money. He never troubled his head about Society and Society never troubled its head about him. Edward Everett Gann was a happy man.

To be sure, he had married Dolly Curtis, a strapping, titian-haired lady whose Brother Charles was Senator from Kansas. But that fact did not affect the smooth and comfortable routine of his life. When Mrs. Curtis died five years ago, the Senator as a widower went to live in the vine-clad Gann home in Cleveland Park, informal Washington suburb. When his brother-in-law sought the presidential nomination last year at the Kansas City Convention, Mr. Gann journeyed out and took charge of the Curtis headquarters. It was pretty much a family affair and all very jolly.

Not until his brother-in-law was nominated and elected Vice President of the U. S. did Mr. Gann's troubles begin. First he was brought in from the cozy Cleveland Park home to take up residence, with the Vice President and Mrs. Gann, in a twelve-room suite at the Mayflower Hotel. Then he found himself being led off to great formal dinners with people he didn't know and who obviously didn't know him. A round-faced, bespectacled man, shorter than the large Mrs. Gann, the Vice President's brother-in-law sidled into inconspicuous drawing-room corner, spoke when spoken to, wore a mask of polite pleasure.

Intimations of trouble came when the Senate Ladies Luncheon Club elected Mrs. Senator Moses of New Hampshire to succeed Mrs. Vice President Dawes as their chief, instead of Mr. Gann's wife who, as sister of the widower Vice President-Elect, had already begun to function as the latter's official hostess (TIME, Feb. 18).

Then, on March 4, Mrs. Gann rode to the capitol with Mrs. Charles Gates Dawes, only to find no Senate gallery seat reserved for her. Herbert Hoover Jr. gave her his seat. On that occasion Mr. Gann rode alone to the Capitol at the tag-end of the procession. Nobody gave up a seat to him.

By last week, life had become acutely distressing for Mr. Gann as he observed that a major social war was whirling horribly about his wife, in highest, mightiest circles. Vice President Curtis had notified Secretary of State Kellogg that Mrs. Gann was his hostess and that, as such, she should have the full rank of the Vice President's lady in the complex social scheme of official Washington. Secretary Kellogg had ruled that Mrs. Gann could not rate on the level of the Vice President but below the wives of the Chief Justice, the Speaker, the Secretary of State, and all foreign Ambassadors and Ministers.

To James Clement Dunn, Chief of the State Department's Protocol Division, Secretary Kellogg had apparently gone for this precedent. And Mr. Dunn had apparently based his opinion upon the authoritative statement of Mrs. Kellogg's social secretary, Miss Anne Squire, who had written: "Sisters . . . of an official take no precedence whatever. Even when they act as hostesses for the head of a family, they are, except in his house, deprived of the rank of wife." To all Embassies and Legations had gone this Kellogg ruling on Mrs. Gann.

There the matter had stood until Easter morning when a large breakfast was given by Mr. and Mrs. Edward Beale McLean at "Friendship," their handsome suburban home on the northwest fringe of Washington. To it went, with many another high U. S. official, Vice President Curtis and Mrs. Gann. Mr. Gann also went. He knew that Mr. McLean publishes the Washington Post and the Cincinnati Enquirer; that he was a bosom friend of President Harding; that he had "gone down the line" for Albert Bacon Fall, during the oil scandals; that his wife owns but rarely wears the Hope Diamond (44 1/2 karats).

Mr. Gann placed himself at a remote table in a corner while Vice President Curtis led Mrs. Gann grandly up to the head table. But there no seat was saved for Mrs. Gann. The swart Vice Presidential face clouded. To the rescue hurried Mr. Gann and conducted his wife back to the remote corner table, thus averting a bad social scene.

Mrs. Gann was furious. So was her brother, now no longer a simple baby-kissing Kansas Senator, but a Person of Importance who must preserve the dignity and respect of his office. Mrs. Gann's brother solemnly gave out a press statement which brought the social war against Mrs. Gann into the open, saying:

"The Vice President stated that the question of the seating of his hostess, Mrs. Edward Everett Gann, at official dinners is not settled. He has notified the Secretary of State, Mr. Stimson, of his dissatisfaction "with the action of the former Secretary, Mr. Kellogg, and has asked for a reversal of it. . . . The Vice President feels that he is not bound by Mr. Kellogg's conclusion and has protested to Mr. Stimson."

The State Department went into a stew. Statesman Stimson hemmed, hawed, temporized. President Hoover asked the Vice President and the Ganns to dinner at the White House and escorted Mrs. Gann into the state dining room himself, with Mr. Gann bringing up the rear. But this meant nothing because present were no foreign diplomats' wives to point the issue of precedence. The question of a seat for Mrs. Gann--and Mr. Gann--was all-balled-up. Washington society buzzed like a happy beehive.

To outlanders the whole question of precedence and social rank in Washington seems silly. But as a British diplomat once said (with Irish logic): "Since the good God made us so that we all cannot get through the same door at once, there must be precedence."

Social rank in Washington is, of course, based primarily on official position.

The President of the U. S. and his wife lead society. Their doings are always chronicled first in the newspaper society columns. But their social activities are limited to a few official contacts. They do not accept invitations to private homes. They dine out only in Cabinet households, with the Vice President, the Speaker of the House.

The Vice President is the administration's prime diner-out. His presence as the highest-ranking guest is sought by all hostesses. Vice President Curtis has dinner invitations stretching through till June.

Two sets of society exist in Washington--official and unofficial. Officialdom provides the actors. Unofficialdom provides the stages--mostly dining-room and drawing-room scenes--the choruses, the expert managers. The State Department is the prompter, furnishing cues for the actors' entrances and exits.

Officials. By no means all officials are good performers. The unofficial stage managers quickly pick their favorites and offer them all the best engagements. Of the present Cabinet, Messrs. Stimson, Mellon, Adams, Lament and Mitchell are booked in advance. Only a few Senators and their wives hold the steady interest of Washington Society. Among these are Senators Bingham, Couzens, Edge, Hale, Johnson, Moses, Phipps, Shipstead, Wagner, Tydings. Senator Borah still moves at the edge of this group, an old lion whose mane and roaring once petrified and enchanted but are now too familiar to impress.

The socially elect in the House are likewise few, including Representatives Aldrich, Bacon, Beck, Fish, (Mrs.) McCormick, (Mrs.) Pratt, Snell, Tilson, Wainwright, Wigglesworth.

The great mass of Senators and Representatives are hammish on the capital's main social stage. That is why Washington is full of side shows. The form of the main performance is reproduced faithfully on a small, stuffy scale in the lobbies and "parlors" of the inexpensive hotels near Washington's Union Station. Seldom are these second-rate social troopers seen in Northwest Washington after 6 p. m. When a second-rate Congressman does scale the heights, he usually does something gauche--like the Senator who had himself flash-lighted as he entered Secretary Mellon's home to dine.

When U. S. officials dine out, they do so by their titles, not their names. Thus, invitations and dinner cards say: "The Secretary of State and Mrs. Stimson," or the Chief of Staff and Mrs. Summerall." This formula appears truly remarkable when applied, down the line, to "the Chief of the Oil, Fat and Wax Division of the Department of Agriculture, & Mrs. Jones."

The diplomatic corps performs socially in a tight little world of its own. The hostesses strive hardest to bring to their dinner tables the diplomats: Belgium's Prince de Ligne, Canada's Vincent Massey, England's Sir Esme Howard, Cuba's Senor Ferrara, Germany's Von Prittwitz und Gaffron, Hungary's Count Szechenyi, France's Paul Claudel. Less smart, but kept quite busy, are Austria's Prochnik, Italy's de Martino, Japan's Debuchi,* Mexico's Telles, Spain's Padilla y Bell. After them, courted by hostesses on their way up or down, come the Balkan and Latin-American diplomats.

Unofficialdom. Smart unofficial society falls into two groups: Cave-dwellers and Newcomers. The Cave-dwellers are the old residents, rich and socially secure, who hold themselves aloof from the comings and goings of the ever-shifting official set. Their women wear pompadours, subscribe to charities, keep their names out of the newspapers. As social stage managers, the Cave-dwellers entertain only the most select officials. Their parties are small and quiet. In return, they are invited to the most exclusive official functions.

A prime Cavedweller, for example, is Miss Mable Thorp Boardman, Secretary of the American Red Cross, whom (the saying goes) Edward of Wales once mistook for his royal mother. Another Cavedweller is Mrs. Henry F. Dimock, who drives about in a victoria, wears plumed hats, prefers foreigners, particularly Italians. A third Cavedweller is Mrs. Richard H. Townsend possessed of a Pennsylvania R. R. fortune. She has a monster Queen Anne house at Massachusetts & Florida Avenues. She bought for her daughter, Mrs. B. Sumner Welles (Senator Gerry's onetime wife) a $600,000 Russian pearl necklace.

The Newcomers arrived in Washington sometime after the turn of the century. They are the active stagemanagers who keep the official actors moving rapidly from one dining room set to the next. They are mostly Wet. They play bridge and poker, go in for costume parties. Their parties are less exclusive than the Cave-dwellers', but they seldom give their guest lists to the newspapers.

In a class by herself is Mrs. Nicholas Longworth, Theodore Roosevelt's daughter, wife of the Speaker of the House. Every Washington door is gladly open to her for her wit and charm. She moves freely through all sets, but her own parties are small, select, intellectualized-- except for Mr. Longworth's stories.

Ultrasmart among the Newcomers are: Mrs. Joseph Leiter. Vivacious, handsome, domineering, she gives fabulous parties in her enormous du Pont circle home in the manner but not the quality of the Astors.

Mrs. Edward Beale McLean whose mother is Mrs. Thomas F. Walsh. Her Easter party was made sensational by a simple yet extremely clever device. She served orangeade--nothing stronger--and let it be known that since President Hoover was dry, so was she.

Not quite top-notch but cheerfully active is a large group of hostesses who produce parties in the light-opera class. Typical of this group are: Mrs. John B. Henderson, the self-appointed social guardian of the diplomatic corps in Washington, objects to meat, tobacco, alcohol and short skirts--except when bearing foreign labels. She wants to change the name of 16th Street, where stands her famed brown castle, to "The Avenue of the Presidents." Her swimming pool is open to foreigners almost exclusively. Once she offered the nation a home for the Vice President. When it was declined she sold it to Spain as an Embassy.

With a flair for mixing her guests and thus striking new sparks, Mrs. J. Borden ("Daisy") Harriman has made her Sunday evening parties celebrated. When conversation lags, she turns to Senator Thomas J. Walsh and says: "Now, Senator, tell us about the oil scandals." The senator usually obliges, grimly and at length.

Finally there are the Washington society-producers who stage the revue type of entertainment. Among these are: Mrs. Clarence Crittenden Calhoun. Claiming the Earl of Mar as an ancestor, she built herself a medieval castle in Chevy Chase, called it "Rossdhu, Braemar Forest." She displays Bonnie Prince Charlie's sword in a glass case. She has Scotch evenings at which her Tennessee husband appears in kilts. At a ball last winter she personified "The Spirit of the Middle Ages."

Claiming to be a lineal descendant of George Washington,* Mrs. Francois Berger Moran goes marketing in an ermine coat. Herbert Hoover used her house last autumn as a campaign headquarters.

Just 100 years ago this season, Washington society was convulsed by the celebrated Peggy O'Neill Eaton case. While the details of the Eaton and Gann cases are not similar, analogies between them have been drawn. Peggy O'Neill was the daughter of a Washington innkeeper. She was pretty and pert--and sharp-tongued as any barmaid. Andrew Jackson put up at the O'Neill tavern with his Tennessee friend, John H. Eaton. In January, 1829, Eaton married Peggy. On March 4, Jackson became President and appointed Eaton his Secretary of War. Washington society turned fiercely upon Mrs. Eaton, refused to accept her, slandered her morals. President Jackson took her side, as did Secretary of State Van Buren. Van Buren and Eaton resigned from the Cabinet as a protest, Van Buren becoming President later, thanks to Jackson's support, which he gained largely in the Peggy Eaton case.

The Gann case is not likely to produce any Cabinet resignations, but to Washington's social actors and managers it seems a very serious matter indeed. Off in one corner of the theatre, watching the spectacle, sits a senator--Nebraska's George William Norris--who has more than once expressed himself forcefully if not tactfully on the Capital's society. Early in the Harding administration Senator Norris made an attack upon Mrs. Edward B. McLean, too acid to quote. Last week Senator Norris, his tongue in his cheek and even sticking out of his mouth a little bit, wrote a letter to Secretary of State Stimson about the "extremely important" Curtis-Gann question. He mockingly urged Statesman Stimson to "hurry up." He explained he was interested only as an "ordinary" citizen who contributes taxes toward "the upkeep of this great mysterious social sham which towers in importance over questions of national and international import." After thoroughly flaying everyone else concerned, he urged that a seat at table be found for Mr. Gann and that, if no other solution could be reached, the whole affair be submitted to the World Court.

*Japan's erstwhile Matsudaira was a prime favorite, especially among men. He had his gin made specially by Gordon, at 60 proof. *George Washington died without legitimate issue.