Judge Hull Gets a Cake

Washington newshawks, case-hardened characters who measure a public man by the probable length of his obituary, last week sentimentally chipped in $7, bought a seven-pound, four-layer White Mountain cake topped with white, pink and green icing, with 21 large pink candles rakishly atilt in pink rosebud holders.

The pastry masterpiece was placed at one end of the long mahogany table in the State Department's press-conference room, beneath the starched-collar portraits of former Secretaries of State. In the long, chill, formal room, it looked as out of place as a round of beers. At noon sharp the 21 candles (for the 21 American Republics) were lit.

Ten minutes later, as the wax began to drip on the frosting, tall, solemn, saint-pale Cordell Hull entered. This was his 70th birthday, and the cake was for him. The newspapermen, beaming like apple-polishing schoolboys, made him a little speech. He thanked them and made a little speech in return: ''. . . It is in times like this that each of us needs desperately to hold fast to the faith that is in us, a faith in the destiny of free men and the supreme worth of Christian morality. ..."

The photographers asked him to blow out the candles. It took him seven breaths.

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