Missouri's Favorite Son

In San Francisco, Harry Truman was cheered by half a million people. He addressed the final session of the World Security Conference, then, in the presidential C-54, headed east to keep another important date. Independence, Mo., which remembered him as a farmer, clerk and county judge, was waiting to see this homegrown President of the United States.

To the delight of his old neighbors--and the annoyance of Secret Service men --Harry Truman had not changed a bit. At Kansas City's Fairfax Airport someone spotted his military aide, Brig. General Harry Vaughan (a former Missourian) and called: "How did Harry get here?" The President called back: "I don't know. They didn't have a trap set or he'd anever got in." As crowds gathered along the 15-mile drive to his old home town, he obligingly climbed up on the back seat of his open car.

In Independence, the crowds were jammed in the town square, along bunting-draped business streets; they were waiting under shade trees in the residential section. A Negro woman ran out to shout, "Hey, now! Hey, now you're a President.

Ain't that fine!" Beaming, Harry Truman waved, clasped his hands over his head.

When he finally disappeared through the screen door of the "Summer White House," Independence could hardly wait to see him again.

Declaration at Independence. In two hours it had another chance. The President went off in the afternoon heat (92DEG) to red-brick Memorial Hall on Maple Street. There he held a press conference with the public invited -- the first time in history that such a thing had been done. Independence accepted the invitation with enthusiasm: the hall was jammed. The President stood up and read his letter accepting Ed Stettinius's resignation as Secretary of State (see FOREIGN RELATIONS).

That night, at the big auditorium that Independence calls "The Tabernacle," 8,000 more of the President's old neigh bors turned out to see him. There was a brass band; the stage was decked out with flags and flowers. First there was com munity singing. Then Harry Truman got up and talked about being President. He was cheered every time he stopped for breath. The crowd whistled and stamped on the floor when he said: "Time and again I've tried to fill this hall. This is the first time I've been able to do it." Next day Harry Truman went to Kan sas City. He dropped in on his old friend, Barber Frank Spina. The barber was expecting him. Said he: "When the parade went by, yesterday, I yelled, 'Hi Cap!' and he pointed at his head. I knew what he wanted." That night the President went to Kansas City's Municipal Auditorium, where he got an honorary LL.D. from the University of Kansas City. In cap & gown, Dr. Truman spoke on foreign policy.

15 1/2 Collar, 33 Sleeve. The homely visits went on. He dropped into the Kan sas City store of Eddie Jacobson, with whom he had started and lost a haber dashery 25 years ago. Harry Truman wanted some shirts (15 1/2 collar, 33 sleeve) and Eddie did not have the right size.

Next day the lackshirt President was deluged with shirts. Eddie had managed to get a half dozen, and "some red hot bow ties" to boot. So had Henry Bradley, a St. Joseph newspaper publisher. At "noon Kansas City's Jesters Club gave him three more--two the wrong size. Grinning, the President gave the Jesters some outside political talk: "When I hear the Republicans saying I'm doing all right, I know damn well I'm doing wrong. . . ." Two hours later Alf Landon visited him, came out praising him to the skies.

The President went off for a last visit with his 92-year-old mother, Mrs. Martha Truman, at Grandview, Mo., then drove back to Independence. Next morning he was aboard the presidential plane (which he calls "The Sacred Cow"), on his way to Washington and points east.

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