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Jumping Ant The Kleberg election was not Mr. Garner's first intimation of the Speakership. That came last month after five special Congressional elections had given the next House a distinctly Democratic cast (TIME, Nov. 16). Mr. Garner was then on his ranch (infinitesimal beside the King) in Uvalde County. It was pecan-picking time and he had six acres of fine nut trees. The Garner telephone kept jangling with calls from newshawks who wanted to interview the Speaker-presumptive. Then & there Mr. Garner vowed that he would not publicly discuss politics, programs or policies until he was safely seated on the House rostrum —a vow he was still keeping last week. "Ettie, you go talk to those newspaper boys," he told Mrs. Garner, "and get rid of 'em somehow." Mrs. Garner at the telephone:
"Mr. Garner? Oh, he's out somewhere about the place. . . . Perhaps you could find him if you had a good horse. He jumps around like an ant. . . . Yes, we'll go to Washington in a few days. . . . No, we're entirely too busy getting the farm into condition to leave to discuss politics. Good-bye."
In Washington. Soon thereafter Mr. & Mrs. Garner went to Washington, took a small suite at the Raleigh Hotel on noisy Pennsylvania Avenue. He hustled up to the Capitol, unlocked his office, over the door of which hung the sign: "Minority Leader," his title in the 71st Congress. Now he was about to lead a majority and in upon him pressed Democratic friends, job-seekers, well-wishers, newspaper correspondents—and some Republicans to learn his plans. They all found his manner as genial, his handclasp as warm, his lan guage as blunt as ever. But the shadow of responsibility seemed to have sobered him.
White House Emissary. One of the first G. O. Partisans to call on him was Walter Newton, White House secretary who runs the President's errands to Capitol Hill. Mr. Hoover was frankly concerned about what the Democrats under Speaker Garner would do to his legislative program. Secretary Newton had been sent up to find out. As he entered the Garner office, his eye fell on a photograph of his Chief inscribed: "To John Garner, with good wishes in every possible direction except politics—Herbert Hoover."
"Hello, Walter, you old son-of-a-gun." was Mr. Garner's greeting to the onetime Minnesota Congressman. "How's the Chief?" "He's well." ''Well, tell him I send my regards. Tell him I wish him health and happiness—everything but success in the 1932 elections." Then the door closed on the conference.
Truce? Impossible! This meeting and others like it gave rise to press reports that President Hoover was seeking a political moratorium with House Democrats, was trying to develop a co-operative agreement on important economic legislation. Recalled was the high-flown Democratic pronunciamento of last year about nonpartisanship which was scrapped and forgotten a week after Congress began. But "Jack" Garner, almost at the pinnacle of power, was in no mood to bargain with the White House. Partisanship, to him, is the essence of politics as politics is the essence of government. When asked if he would endorse the President's legislative program, he fairly snorted: