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Of Cakes & Mink. Mabel Hill McKay is famed across Oregon for her angel food cake. In Salem once, Oregon Journal Photographer Les Ordeman took some pictures of her at the oven. He tried some cake, liked it and said so. Pleased. Mrs. McKay said she'd bake one for his birthday. He laughed and left without even telling her the date; soon he forgot about it. On his next birthday a black Cadillac drove up to Ordeman's, a chauffeur swung open the door and out stepped the governor of Oregon, who walked briskly to the door and delivered a homemade angel food cake. "I don't think the neighbors will ever get over it." said Ordeman. "I know my wife won't."
In Washington, as in Salem, Mabel McKay does her own cooking and much of the housework in her five-room apartment. She writes bi-monthly reports to the Salem Bridge Club about Washington's social whirl, celebrities, gardens and fashions. She baked angel food cakes for Mamie Eisenhower's wedding anniversary, for cabinet wives and for Minnie, her part-time maid.
At one Washington party McKay sharpened his tongue on an abrasive woman columnist, a strong New Deal supporter, who chattered: "I'd like you better if you'd give me one of your wife's angel food cakes." He snapped: "I didn't know you New Dealers sold out for anything less than mink coats." Usually he skips Washington parties, gets to bed around 9 for an hour's reading before lights out. Current favorite: The Secret Diary of Harold L. Ickes—"so I'll learn how not to run the department."
Interior's Exterior. McKay has acquired an adequate education in Washington ways. In his first week he ordered all purchases above $10,000 to clear through his office. He noted that some bureaus wanted to buy supplies of which others had a surplus. Solution: transfer of supplies. McKay called in experts to survey every bureau in Interior, studied the three-inch-thick pile of recommendations, is rapidly reorganizing the department.
He made flying visits to Interior territories and last month covered Alaska in a whirlwind, ten-day, 7,500-mile inspection trip by plane, train, car and weasel tractor. Badgered about Alaskan statehood, McKay told off Alaskans like a Dutch uncle: "When you went down to Washington, your approach was bad. You were belligerent ... It was reported to me that you made several Congressmen mad . . . Get back down to earth! Start acting like ladies and gentlemen!" His reply to reports that he wanted to keep Alaska under his control: "Horsefeathers." Alaskans were at first angry and astonished, but some applauded his straight talk.
Home in Salem, however, he is invariably genial, smiling, fast-talking, wisecracking and cracker-barreling. On a trip home this month he walked into Salem's Hotel Marion and talked his way across the coffee shop nonstop: "Hi, Ted, how's the new job? Sold your house yet? . . . Well, Ben, never thought I'd see you in this part of the state this time of year. What brings you down? . . . Wayne, can I sell you a Corvette? It's a real slick car. You ought to get rid of that old heap you been driving. With the money you made out of lumber last year you ought to buy two Corvettes . . . Bill, how's your mother? Her backache any better?"