That Wastrel, Harry Byrd

Throughout his press conference last week, Franklin Roosevelt was in rare histrionic form. He had decided to play an unfamiliar role--that of a stern, penny-pinching budgeteer--and he decided to play it broadly, for laughs. He was really "terribly concerned," he solemnly informed his audience, about the cost of the coming inaugural. The 1933, 1937 and 1941 inaugurals cost roughly $47,000 each--plus the expense of Pennsylvania Avenue reviewing stands and White House receptions. This year, a top figure of $25,000 had been set by the Congressional Inaugural Committee, headed by Virginia's apple-cheeked Harry Byrd, famed far & wide for his penny-pinching.

With his irony aimed squarely at Senator Byrd (who did not want Term IV), the President made an announcement. The Jan. 20 inaugural would be a frugal, unpretentious little ceremony held on the south portico of the White House. Why, said Franklin Roosevelt happily, the whole thing could be done for about $2,000--a mere 10% of Senator Byrd's extravagant maximum.

Franklin Roosevelt, inveterate precedent-breaker, will be breaking no precedent. Bearded Rutherford B. Hayes assumed the Presidency in the White House's Red Room on March 3, 1877.* And five other U.S. Presidents have taken their oaths outside the Capitol grounds: John Tyler and Andrew Johnson at Washington hotels, Chester A. Arthur at his Manhattan home, Theodore Roosevelt at the home of a Buffalo friend, and Calvin Coolidge by lamplight in his father's Vermont farmhouse.

The guests at the Term IV inaugural, said Franklin Roosevelt, would be limited to the Cabinet, the Supreme Court Justices, the foreign diplomats and a few other bigwigs. Photographers and newsmen could sit on a couple of old reviewing stands left over from past Capital parades. Most of the cost would be for food. Obviously delighted by his sharp budgeting, the President enthusiastically improvised a luncheon menu that $2,000 would buy: consomme, chicken a la king, sandwiches, coffee.

The President made little news, but his schedule of visitors was the most pack-jammed in many a week: admirals, generals, senators, congressmen, foreign envoys, plain citizens like Bernard Baruch, Henry Kaiser. He kept newsmen in suspense on the date and place of the upcoming meeting of the Big Three. Would he accept General de Gaulle's invitation to Paris? Perhaps, some day, when he had more time.

Bearing in mind the 60,000,000 jobs which he has said are essential to a prosperous postwar U.S., the President once again called for what may yet prove to be a major Term IV project: dividing the nation into seven TVA-inspired watershed areas for the development of navigation, flood control, hydroelectric power and irrigation.

Last week the President also:

P: Called his first post-election Cabinet meeting. As reported by ubiquitous Columnist Drew Pearson, Roosevelt said to his Cabinet: "In 30 years of political life, I have never seen such a dirty, unfair, below-the-belt campaign. During the last two weeks I got mad. And I stayed mad."

P: Journeyed out to the Naval Hospital, Bethesda, Md., to visit old Cordell Hull, sick abed with a throat ailment.

P: Received a letter of congratulation from Tom Dewey, primly told reporters that its contents were personal.

* March 4, 1877, was a Sunday--a day not deemed fitting for a Presidential inaugural. But if Hayes delayed his oath until noon of March 5, the U.S. would be without a President for 36 hours. Consequently, he held the Saturday night White House ceremony, did a repeat performance Monday on the Capitol steps. Thus, from dinner time until midnight, the U.S. had two Presidents.

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