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It's sleightly hilarious when Mr. President takes a card.
tt^eWAite House
by WALTER GIBSON
CRAY TERRELL, a debonair • professional magician, was per' forming a card vanishing routine before a group of government officials in Washington. A card picked by a spectator disappeared from the pack after having been returned to it. Terrell approached an amused, dapperlooking gentleman standing a dozen feet away from him and quickly reached inside his coat and extracted the evanescent pasteboard. The au' dience applauded generously as Ter' rell bowed away and backed into the arms of a perspiring stalwart who muttered :
"Say, that was the closest anyone ever got to the president without our moving in! Suppose there was an assassin in your place?"
For Ray Terrell had plucked the missing card from the pocket of Harry Truman, and the worried bodyguard assigned by the Secret Service to protect the Chief Executive had his gun ready every moment from behind the stage curtains.
Which demonstrates the chances presidents sometimes take when they invite mystifying characters to the White House. Nevertheless, since George Washington's day a long line of magicians has been welcomed to the presidential headquarters.
A typical reaction was expressed
and PAUL GREEN
in Franklin D. Roosevelt's day. The late president loved professional entertainment and regularly amused his friends at the White House with Broadway talent. Among his favorites were Orson Welles and Chester Morris, both well-known for their histrionic accomplishments but slightly less known, outside of magic circles, as accomplished amateur magicians.
During one Easter celebration in the early days of the Roosevelt Administration, during the unhappy period of the Blue Eagle and halting recovery, Milbourne Christopher was stopped at the White House gate by a guard who requested his credentials. Christopher plucked a silver dollar from behind the stern fellow's ear and announced, "I am Christopher — the magician!"
"At last," said the attendant. Then he whispered to Christopher, "At this moment, what Washington needs most is a magician!"
There have been many times before and since when it seemed that only a magician could guide the presidential hand out of the morass of political and economic strife. Surely Mr. Truman must have considered a Merlin or two during the recent rash of reconversion-crippling strikes.
There is something about the deceptive art of magic that relieves the tension of pressing state affairs to a