WHITE HOUSE DIARY (314 pp.)—Henrietta Nesbitt—Doubleday ($3).
"Pshaw, it's only four years. I can stand anything for four years," said Henrietta Nesbitt when she became housekeeper of the White House in 1933. But Mrs. Nesbitt, who was "pushing 60" when she became "First Housekeeper of the Land," stayed in office, like her boss, for 13 years. Unlike the memoirs of other members of President Roosevelt's entourage, her diary of those years has no political importance whatever—for the simple reason that Mrs. Nesbitt was much too busy feeding the politicians to bite off more than she could chew herself. Nonetheless, her prattling, naive, lively record will take its place among the source books as an invaluable inside story of the 31st President's domestic life & times.
"We're just Hyde Park friends of the Roosevelts, come down to look after them," Husband ("Dad") Nesbitt blandly told the world. (Mrs. Nesbitt had often baked and cooked on big occasions when F.D.R. was governor of New York.) Mrs. Roosevelt was waiting in the Red Room when the Nesbitts arrived, and she said: "I'll show you over"; and so "we started out together at a trot, the way she always goes about things . . . We kept on bumping into Roosevelts ... I can't recall how many [but] they all seemed glad to be there . . . Then we reached the kitchen, and I tell you my heart sank . . . Dark-looking cupboards . . . sinks with time-worn wooden drains, one rusty wooden dumbwaiter." Rats, cockroaches, ants, moths shared living space with 32 servants: there wasn't a cookbook in the whole place, or "enough utensils to cook a fair-sized family meal." "You're not to worry . . . You're going to be all right," said Mrs. R.
Gasping Housekeeper Nesbitt spent her first term struggling against chaos. Already, "world leaders were swooping down on us from all directions"—and terrifying memos were swooping down from Mrs. Roosevelt ("Mrs. Nesbitt: There will be 5,000 to tea"). Salesmen stormed the doors with "gift" samples of everything from cravats to cheese; Peach, Cherry and Potato "Queens" left laden bushel baskets all over the floor; deputations stamped in & out; photographers' flashbulbs exploded like small arms. Eighty-three thousand casual visitors streamed through every month, leaving a trail of mud and cigarette butts.
Swoons & Spoons. The Roosevelts occupied the whole second floor, which swarmed with children, grandchildren and pets. Affectionate, easygoing, they were the least of Mrs. Nesbitt's worries.
"Secret Service boys" pried into the presidential steaks and fillets; members of the Fine Arts Commission studied the least new drape with a beady eye; maintenance officers checked the smallest bill. Breakfast began at 6 a.m., ended at noon, when lunch began. It was hard to tell how much silver there was, because visitors not only pocketed the monogrammed spoons and forks but even managed to get away with large trays and colonial bowls.