(2 of 3)
On the Senate floor were so many people Boris couldn't count them all. The Senators were packed on the east side, the Congressmen on the west. Round and about were Ambassadors, Cabinet members, Generals, Admirals, everybody who could squeeze in. The cutaway was standard gear except for the military officers and foreign representatives who vied to outglitter one another with gold and brass.
Boris listened to Reed Smoot call Charles Curtis "A child of the Wrest." He saw an attendant bend Time to the Constitution by setting back the Senate clock first ten minutes, then seven, to keep its hands from reaching noon too soon. Microphones were scattered about everywhere. In a glass booth David Lawrence of the United States Daily was telling the world.
Calvin Coolidge came in. Everybody stood up and clapped. Suddenly a man threw open the centre door and announced in a great voice: "The President-Elect of the United States." And who should walk in but The Chief himself.
On the dais a thin blond man in a choker collar made a loud rapid speech and a short dark man swore to be a good Vice-President. After a tremendous throat-clearing a minister prayed and the short dark man read a speech from a little leather notebook. Mr. Coolidge listened with one hand up to his face. When the speech was over everybody clapped and helter-skeltered out of doors to the front steps of the Capitol.
Just as Boris had feared, a mean, chilling drizzle had started. Nevertheless, The Chief and President Coolidge went out on the platform which was decorated with seals of the U. S. Food Administration. Everyone was cheering but, looking around, The Chief and the President couldn't find their wives, who had been swallowed up in the confused exodus from the Senate.
Five minutes passed and The Chief frowned; ten, and he snapped his fingers, fumbled in his pocket, was plainly vexed by the delay. Boris was distressed again. George Akerson, The Chief's secretary, shuttled in and out in frantic search. Finally the ladies were extricated from the jumble. The Chief looked immensely relieved and beamed about him through the drizzle.
Speaker Longworth lit a cigaret in one corner of the stand. He had seen many such ceremonies. The Coolidge Cabinet, led by Frank Billings Kellogg (who will continue as Secretary of State until the arrival of Henry Lewis Stimson) took reserved seats well forward. The Chief moved up to the rose-decked reading stand among the microphones. Chief Justice Taft, in black robes and skullcap, moved to his side. Supreme Court Clerk Elmer Cropley handed the Chief Justice a small, new Bible, ribboned to Matthew 5 (The Sermon on the Mount). It was really raining now.
The Chief Justice began the Presidential oath—he knew it well; he swore it once himself. "You, Herbert Hoover, you do solemnly swear that you will faithfully execute the office of President of the United States and will, to the best of your ability, preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States."
One of The Chief's hands lay on the open Bible. With the other hand raised toward the sky, and while a reverential hush held the umbrella-covered multitude, The Chief said: "I do."