The Washington times., 1935-01-23
NOW
Luncheon Talk
As 1t Should Be
THRIFTY DEATH
BY HELEN ESSARY

economists and historians who
have the intelligence to discover
what is wrong with the world
should also be blessed by the
gods with humor and the gift
Of story telling.
There, for instance, are the
Boards, Charles and Mary,
whose books are likely to revo-
lutionize Americas understand
ing of society. This distinguished
pair, at the luncheon of the
Woman'S National Press Club
yesterday. made short, gay lit
tie speeches that think were
unexcelled by any "meant-to-be"
gay little speeches I ever have
heard-unless, perhaps, two
other guests of honor at the
same luncheon, DuBoSe and
Mary Hayward. of "Porgy"
achievement, matched with their
Southern humor the crisp wit Of
the New England Boards.
I wish I could report this par
ticular luncheon verbatim. It
was the sort all luncheons of
its type should be, but practi-
cally never are. shall try,
however, to remember one story
Of DR.. Boards. The one about
economy as practiced in West.
ern Connecticut, where the
Boards have a summer home.
At the close of a funeral
grafton over the remains of a
local farmer, a little old New
England woman Of 81 came to
the preacher and whispered she
would like to confess a sin. She
said she had been struggling
with the load on her conscience
for many a year. But she'd
been ashamed to tell it to the
old preacher, and would this
new one listen?
The sin was committed, it
seemed, the day the old lady's
husband died. On that morn
ing the doctor said to her:
well, william won't last the
day out. So if there are any
preparations you want to make,
you'd better start nOw.''
She went into the kitchen and
told the cook to get ready plenty
of food for the people who would
come in to help with the funeral.
Late that afternoon William
reused from his coma and
shifted the air. He said:
MARY, 1 smell something
cOOkin'."
eyes, William"
''Mary! 1 smell ham,"
Eyes, William"
MARY, can I have a piece of
that ham, before I die?"
mo, William. You can't. That
ham, William, is being cooked
for your funeral. 1t would be a
waste for you to have it now"
And so William died,
Then Mrs. Beard matched her
husbands story with another
good yarn, of which DR.. Beard
himself was the hero.
During the early days of the
feminist movement in Washing.
ton, DR.. Beard marched in a
suffrage parade. This, said
Mrs. Beard, was probably be.
cause she herself was on the
executive committee of the
feminist organization. Anyhow,
DR.. Beard marched.
And as he passed along Penn.
Sylvania Avenue with the women
paraders, a small boy shouted
at him scornfully:
"Hey, mister! Your petticoat's
hangin' down."
In "Chapayev," the film of
the Russian revolution, shown
by the Soviet Embassy the other
night to a crowd of distin.
guished guests and followed by
one Of the best suppers served
in Washington, the only ro-
nance was centered about a
machine gun.
There was but one woman in
the picture and she was a
machine gunner. The guests,
however, were delighted with
the picture. I personally don't
like murder and arson on the
screen or anywhere else.
Robert F. Kelley, chief Of
the Division of Eastern Euro
pean Affairs (Russia is in his
province), enjoyed the film.
He was reminded of the time
q year ago when he brought
Litvinoff, the Soviet Minister
of Foreign Affairs, to the En-
bassy for the first time. It
was then deserted place.
thick with dust and on the
verge of decay. 1t had been
unoccupied for more than 10
years. Mr.. Kelley had its keys.
The same two actors but a
new stage drop!
The old one was lost in the
removal of desks from the Re.
publican to the Democratic side
in the Senate. (There are now
50 Democratic desks and only
Is Republican deskS.)
The famous Senate neigh
bors, Mr.. Borah, of Idaho, and
Mr.. Norris, of Nebraska-Mr.
Norris in his aisle seat and Mr..
Borah one away from him-are
still there.
But now their row has be.