St. Paul recorder. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1934-2000, 1944-03-03
UncOvering
Washington
By Harry S. McAlpin
(White House Correspondent
NNPA)
How do they treat you?"

How do they treat you?"
That's the first question every in
terested person has asked me when
ever the subject of my attending the
Presidents press conferences in the
White House comes up. It's a ma
tural question for Negroes to ask,
because they are aware through ex-
perience and hearsay of the ex-
tremes to which anyone of them
may be subjected when he unex-
pectedly shows up in unusual
places, particularly if those places
have Heretofore been exclusively
white.
1t happens when there is in
volved moving into neighborhood,
riding in an open Pullman in GER
tain sections of the country, eat
ing in a restaurant, or attending a
meeting. Either there is an at
titude of surprise and resentment,
or there is a discomforting, over
done gesture at making one "feel
at home"
Well, there was neither extreme
when 1 attended my first conference
which happened to be President
Roosevelt's 394th. Though l was
the subject of many a gaze, and
perhaps of several little group con-
versations, as we'll, l was not made
to feel resented. Nor was l "gushed"
over. Of SO or 60 correspon-
dents present, including the widely
read Mark Sullivan, only two of
them came over to where 1 sat in
the reception hall awaiting the
signal to head for the Presidents
office.
That, think, was natural. No one
knew me. I had no sponsor. I
preferred it that way-going in
on my own and getting the natural
reactions. l was there for bust
ness and so were they. They were
chatting with friends-I hadn't
made any yet.
Stephen Early, the Presidents
press secretary, came out during
the pre-conference wait, shook
hands with me and chatted for a
moment. He, of course, was really
my host. He has charge of all
press relations at the White House.
He made me feel belonged" there
by his gesture, and 1 appreciated it.
Then the President, himself, at
the conclusion of the conference,
took notice of my presence, ex-
tended his hand, smiled, and with
a firm handclasp told me he was
glad to see me and happy to have
me there. He put me entirely at
ease with his magnetic personality
with that brief, but warm greeting.
Like a schoolboy who knew his
lessons, / was anxious to go back
the following Friday. When 1 did,
though the icy "newness" of my
being there had not worn off, at
least I was expected. Then the
unexpected happened to break the
ice.
A charming member of the
female contingent of White House
correspondents (there are usually
5 or 6 of them there) detached
herself from the crowd waiting for
the guards to drop the barrier which
would signal a headlong rush to
the Presidents office to gain posi-
tons of vantage around his desk.
She approached me, and calling me
by name said she had been seeing
me at the press conferences of
the Secretary of War and was
happy to see me now at the White
House.
"Come over and meet some of the
folks" she said.
Every introduction was gracious
ly accepted, and no one turned or
ran away Immediately. A group
of us spent the balance of the
time in general conversation.
1 was struck, however, by the
fact that the young lady who had
made the Democratic gesture in our
White House, as I learned later,
is a representative of the Russian
news service, the Tass Agency, not
of one of our own American news
papers or wire services.
Up to this writing, I have at
tended 5 conferences, and at each
one since the second, this Tass cor
respondent has introduced me to
more of our colleagues. I have yet
to meet one who hasn't proved to
be a gentleman or a lady. Some
of them probably are learning for
the first time that it is possible to
meet Negro on a plane of equality
and not have the world come
tumbhng down.