The Waterbury Democrat., 1945-05-29
Hoover Has Not Changed
BY FREDERICK c. OTHMAN

BY FREDERICK c. OTHMAN
 Washington, May 29-(UP)-He's the same Herbert Hoover. Cast iron collar. Double e-breasted suit Timid smile. Nothing to say except: Gen. tlemen, good day.
 When the only living ex-president visited the White House at the in- vitation of President Truman, time turned back for me. The White House had changed. but MT. Hoover hadn't.
 It was in 1882 that I became the capitals newest reporter, fresh from Chicago, Al Capone and gang ster murders, wholesale. A cautious management decided it's rawest re- cruit had better get his feet wet on the one beat in town where noth- ing ever happened. I was sen- tenced to the White House.
 My mother thought this was wonderful. Imagine, her son cov- ering the White House for newspa- pers all over the world. I never told her the truth. All did was sit there, day in and day out, with two other reporters and some se- cret service agents who taught me how to play chess.
 MT. Hoover scheduled two press conferences per week. Frequently he cancelled them altogther and we'd go back to our chess. Some times he'd actually hold a confer ence. Then we'd scurry around thinking up questions to submit in writing because he had rule against talking off the cuff.
 The three of us would walk into his office. He'd stand on one side of his desk; we'd stand on the oth- CT. He'd shuffle through the ques- tions and place them, one by one, on his blotter Then he'd look at us with that odd smile and say, nothing to say" He'd add, good day, gentlemen" and wed file back to the interminable hours in the press room.
 Once in a while he broke the monotony by going down to Rapi- dan, Va, where MT. Hoover liked to fish. He unbent a little on these trips, but not much. never really got to know him and I doubt if he recognized me yesterday.
 Sometimes he'd invite us to his official receptions where the re- treatments consisted of ice water, the music was provided by the Marine band and the atmosphere generally was as chilly as the re- treatments. At 10 o'clock he always went upstairs, leaving his guests to shift for themselves. Thirty minutes later they'd be gone and the East room dark.
 The executive offices were small: the reception room was dark and fucished with ancient black leather chairs. The big day around the White House then was Thursday and I'm sincere in saying this because that was when the boy brought around the Saturday Eve ming Post. It helped relieve the boredom.
 So the years passed and you know what happened. The White House became one of the liveliest spot in the world and one of the busiest. The entire establishment was re- modled, Red chairs replaced the black, fresh paint covered the dirty white walls and the correspondents found there the biggest news of all
 More than 100 reporters were awaiting MT. Hoover yesterday, more than ever attended his presi- dential conferences. The flash lights made him blink but he smiled, al- most boyishly despite his 70 years, and went in to talk for 45 minutes with MT. Truman about the inter- national food situation.
 When he came out he blinked some more. The cameramen out did themselves. The reporters clustered around him. MT. Hoover looked us over owlishly and it seemed like 1882. No, he had nothing to say. (Sentlemen good daV