Solemn Act

One day last week, New York's Royal S. Copeland was bumbling along in the Senate about his food & drug bill. A few Senators like Clark of Missouri (home of Listerine), Bailey of North Carolina (home of Vicks) and Tydings of Maryland (home of Bromo Seltzer), were naturally interested in his bill, but the majority practically drowned out the speaker with loud private conversations. Finally Senator Borah, who is a stickler for Senate etiquette, uprose to remark to the presiding officer:

"Mr. President, a point of order. . . . The point of order is that there is not order in the Chamber!"

In Vice President Garner's leather chair on the dais sat the Senate's president pro tern. Nevada's lean, hawk-nosed Key Pittman. Above the general hubbub he cried out: "The point of order is well taken."

No one paid the least attention.

"The point of order," went on Senator Borah, almost at the top of his lungs, "is well taken but it has not yet been carried out."

Up jumped Majority Leader Robinson to invoke the most solemn of parliamentary devices: to direct the Sergeant-at-Arms to preserve order in the Chamber. Senator Pittman put the question. Senators Robinson, Borah & Copeland shouted "Aye."

Senator Pittman ordered: "The Sergeant-at-Arms is instructed to carry out the motion of the Senator from Arkansas."

Senator Copeland looked hopefully toward the chair where Sergeant-at-Arms Chesley W. Jurney was supposed to sit. The chair was there, but Mr. Jurney's cutaway coat, his polka dot necktie and his big purple handkerchief were not to be seen. On his eminence Senator Pittman called aloud:

'The Chair requests the Sergeant-at-Arms to appear in the Senate."

Senator Robinson (growing angry): I insist that the Sergeant-at-Arms be in attendance.

Senator Pittman: The proceedings will suspend until the Sergeant-at-Arms appears in the Senate.

By this time other Senators had become so interested in what was going on that they stopped their own chatter and listened amid comparative silence. Still the Sergeant-at-Arms failed to appear.

Senator Pittman: The Chair will ask whether there is a Deputy Sergeant-at-Arms.

No answer. Again silence.

Senator Neely: Mr. President, I move that a committee of three be appointed to search for the Sergeant-at-Arms.

Senator Barkley: A parliamentary inquiry.

Senator Pittman: The Senator will state it.

Senator Barkley: Do I still have the floor?

Senator Pittman: The Senator from Kentucky has the floor.

Senator Barkley: What can I do with it?

For lack of its Sergeant-at-Arms. the Senate was balked in exercising its solemn powers of selfdiscipline. Soon the hubbub on the floor was again as loud as ever, increased by talk in the public galleries. A Senate guide, followed into the gallery by some two dozen tourists at 25-c- per head, began a lecture in a voice louder than Senator Copeland's. He pointed out Huey Long and other sights on the floor below. If the Senate could not discipline itself, it was determined to discipline its guests, exercise its power somehow. Senator Pittman grouchily ordered the public galleries cleared. Proceedings stood still while bent old doorkeepers shooed indignant onlookers from their seats, among them Frances ("Robbie") Robinson, one-time secretary to General Johnson. Newshawks in the Press Gallery gaped in amazement at this rare display of Senatorial power.*

At length when his unofficial audience had been driven out. Senator Copeland looked sadly about for Senators to listen to the rest of his speech. Finding few in sight, he observed:

"We seem to have cleared not only the galleries but the floor. I suggest the absence of a quorum.''

*The Senate galleries were last cleared three years ago when Alabama's Senator James Thomas ("Tom-Tom") Heflin was making his final speech on the floor, contesting his defeat by Senator Bankhead. After trespassing five hours on the Senate's time, Heflin bellowed: "I pledge you in this sacred place, with my heart and my all, Alabama shall be free. . . . Her voters will vote as they choose and by the eternal God, every ballot shall be counted as cast." Spectators burst into an uproar of amusement.

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