The Washington times., 1934-12-01
Now
Mrs. Morgenthau Murmurs.
Nick Carter Comes Back.
Youth Celebrates.
By Helen ESSary

If you see a slim, dark woman
murmuring to herself as she
rides alone in a big motor car,
there goes Mrs. Henry Morgen-
thau, jr., composing jingleS for
Mrs. RooSevelt's costume party.
When the wife of the Secre-
tary of the Treasury has free
moment on her way from one
engagement to another, she
thinks about gay little poems to
give point to her disguise at the
White House next Saturday
night.
Many of Mrs. Roosevelt'S eX-
pected guests are behaving as
Mrs. Morgenthau is. You can
recognize them in groups at af-
ternoon parties, by their anxious
toreheads and mysterious voices.
They will explain. when you
inquire tactfully about their
harasSed expressions, that, OF
course, they've no idea of win
ming a prize. But Mrs. RooSe-
velt did say in her invitation
that the committee of judges
would require "those winning
prizes to perform on a stage in
any way they wish, singly or
in a group of their own choos-
ing"
And merely in case they do
win prizes-Heaven knows they
haven't the slightest chance
1t is just as we'll to be prepared.
You know how those things are.
GosSiping as we go, we learn
further that most of the stunts
being prayerfully prepared will
need a clear stage for proper
production. A clear stage at
the White House has been the
goal of many an ambitious
character. It's only lately the
contenders have been among the
feminine gender.
Many of those genteel men
and women at desks in the Rare
Book Section of the Congress
Sional Library are reading-not
Odes to Ancient Greece, but
early editions of Nick Carter
and Deadwood Dick.
Mr.. V. Valta Parma, curator
of the collection, says so. He
says, moreover, that every day
some oldish person asks permis-
sion to take one of the once for
hidden detective stories home.
Mr.. Parma is always sorry but
library rules are library rules.
Rare books must not be taken
out of their section.
Besides, Mr.. Parma suspects
that the old thrillers will not be
half so exciting under the family
reading lamp as they were be-
hind pas barn.
Mr.. Parma, by the way, has a
taste for Lord Byron silk shirts
and flowing ties.
We're surrounded by youth
this morning. We're practically
overwhelmed by youth.
In case you've forgotten,
school holidays are lingering
until Monday. Our guest room
Is barricaded with suitcaSeS and
hatboxes. Fur coats are on the
chair backs and stockings and
pinky negligees trail from the
beds. Through the half-open
closet (there's no time to close
a door are glimpses of spangly
dresses and tweed suits and
velvet wraps.
The bureau is white with
powder. Cigarette ashes adorn
the carpet. Lipstick decorates
the towels and servietees. The
door bell rings from 9 in the
morning until midnight. Un.
employed youth dashes up and
down the front steps.
Our house guests are being
rushed to death. Parties, 16
hours out of "a. Debutantes are
escaping from maternal captiv-
ity at the rate of three or four
q day.
Each party has been more
divine than the last. Today
there are echoes of Stellita
Stapleton's debut dance. Her
floor committee, it seems, was
swell. Not a lot of stuffed
shirts, but boys you'd known
since you we're 6 and going to
Miss Hawkes. dancing class.
Nice boys looking after visiting
week. .enders and unacquainted
home talent.
And didn't Stellita have the
most marvellous idea about her
flowers? Misunderstanding a
flower from each bouquet in
a lei that touched the floor.
AWfully becoming, too.
Continuing on the sizzling