Evening Star Newspaper, January 3, 1932, Page 78

_that’s in these here baskets. 1ohts Dark Secrets of the Senate Of fice Building Are Brought to Light by a Political-Minded Charzcoman Who Pauses in Her Activities to Grant an Interviezo. By Haroun al-Rashid, Jr. EDITOR'S NOTE—This is the third of a series of t'cles on interesting scenes *and evcN!s sed in the Na- tiom’s Capitcl aft>r E back be: » over the waste-paper truck straizhiened and the woman emntying the botialion of waste bask-ts ooked around at me. “¥Ycu know what my's opinion, suh! I thinks it’s a mighty fine dhing some of these here Senators has gob constitooents. I do in ecd.” “How do you mean?” I asked, beginning to be amused. “Well, constitooent was a dog and h: ful things. Tlrey ke he's a dog.” Outside a haze made that stretch of no- man’s land that soon will b2 a beautiful park- way between the Czpitol and the Union Sta- tion even more decolate. There were Rno sounds save the echeoes through the long and lofty marble corridors of the Senate Office Building, which told me that on other floors and around other ecorners were more of this troop of charwomen refurbishing the offices in preparation for another day. as if a Senator I"l2as is mighty use- eps a d-g from forgettin’ 4. “Do you know any of these Senators?” I asked my interviewce “Oh, I jest knows who some of them is. I - don't know them to know them, suh.” “1 should think you weuld be able to find out a lot about them.” I ventured. “Why, I'll bet if you were as intereted in politics as they are you would be able to ruin some of them just with the letiers and papers you could find in thoke waste baskets.” For that crack I got a dirty look. The kind of a look a city editor gives a telegraph editor and vice versa. The charwoman started twice to make a reply, but stgpped both times, ap- parently thinking the better of it and con- sidering the source. Then she said “Ne, sir,” Then more emphatically, “No, sir. I'm too busy to bother with anything 1 got my work to do. Besides they tears up all the important letters in little tiny biis.” I'm sure she was insulted. But after several minutes of silence she g.ew friendly again. “The enly time they throws everything away and never bother to tear it_all up is when they're goin’ hcme for go:d. Yes, sir, T've been up here a long time and I've seen lots of ’em come ahd I've seen lots of ’em go. ’Specially when I used to be over in the House Office Building.” There came one of those lulls that break into every conversation. Tre waste-basket emptying had given way to dusting, and I fol- owed along in silenee “Yes, sir,” the voice finally resumed. “I've seen 'em come and I guess I'll be seein’ a lot mere of 'em go. It sure is funnny. Some of 'em goes home and before you know it here they is back again. Some cf 'em never go. And some of 'em never seem to have no sense. They don't pay no aitention to their constitooents, and first thing you know they goes home and they don’t mever come back. And you never hear about 'em unlesscn they dies.” “Do you pay any attention to polities?” I asked her. “No; things is too mixed up nowadays, sir. I jest try to fergit about it.” “How do you mean they're so mixed up?” “Well, a let of these Republican gent'men says Mr. Hoover is all right when the election is on and then they say he’s all wrong when Congress is on. My pappy used to talk about politics, though He come from down in Il'nois, down in what they used to call the Black Bottom near Cairo. He knew all about poiitics. He used to talk about Mr. Harrison, and then he was strong for Mr. McKinley. But he went to the other shore before Mr. Roosevelt came in. But in them days they was just Republicans and Democrats.” T was late and perhaps sleepiness made me lose interest, bul now that I ant fully awake I stil fail to get excited about the depth of my charwoman’s political knowledge. After all there are other sousces of political informa- tion in Washington, so I turned back to the duties of a ‘“cleaning lady.” “You don’t have tc work so hard when Con- gress isn't in session, do you?” I asked. “We always works just about the same. They's just so much dirt a-goin’ to come in all the time and it's just as hard to empty a waste basket. that’s half full as one that’s clean There you have the fatalism of a janitress. “'Course, they ain't so many cuspidors to clean when the Senators ain't here, and they tracks in a little more dirt when it rains, but they ain't much diff'rence.” Still I was hardly impressed. o “But how about all the committee rooms?” I ventured. “That's right, suh. They does make more work for sure. Look in hyah a minute. See that table down there in the corner?” I recognized the table she pointed out from past duties as a newspaper reporter. “Well, they tells me that’s where at the newspaper men sits.” Her information was correct enough. “Do you know what them men does? They sits there and smokes cigarettes all through th’ meetings and then they doesn’t know what to do with them. So you know what they does?” Since I had sat there, and since I had been in exactly the position she described, I pre- tended amazed ignorance. . THE SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGTO} IV ashington _ D. C, JANUARY 3, 1932, “They tears all the important letters in tiny little bits.” - “They throws the snipes on the floor and then grinds them into the carpet. Boy, I'd jest Iike to catch my old man tryin’ that at home. Um-hum-m-m!” “Oh,” I oh-ed, “are you married?” “Sure I'm married. My husband he drives a 4ruck for a transfer comp’'ny.” “He ought to make a pretty good living,” I suggested. “Yow shouldn’t have to work, t0o.” “Oh, I likes to work. I hates sittin’ around the house doin’ nothin’ all the time. Besides I'd hate to be like a lot of these women that bas to ask their men for money every time they want something. No, suh. You don't catch me beggin’ nothin’ from no man.” I rather admired her independence, even if its feminism @idn't appeal toe my masculine viewpoint, but the halls of the solons at night constituted my mission, rather than the private lives of charwomen. So I went back to the cigarette ashes. “Do the Senators ever throw ashes on the carpets in their offices?” I asked. “No very often. Sometimes they drops a few, but most of the gentlemen is awful neat. But it isn’t that way over on the House side.” “No?" “No, suh. You see when they comes over here they gets kinda high hat. You take Mr. Connolly. I used to clean his office whén he “When they gets in the Senat& they gets dignity for sure.” was in the House. He had a little dinky place way up on the fift’ floor and it was a mess for sure. But since he come over here a couple of years ago you should see his rooms. Neat as a pin, suh.” “Who do you think has the neatest office here?” : “Oh, it's hard to say. Maybe Mr. Wagner, or Mr. Sheppard, but Mr. Thomas from Okla- homa is awful clean about his place.” “Then who would you say was the most careless?” “I wouldn't say, suh. These gent’'men takes theirselves too serious. When they gets one of these offices they gets dignified.” “What do they do when they get dignified?” I was getting curious. “Well, them that comes over from the House side remembers to forget to put their feets on the desk. And they likes to insist on their rights in the elevators. And they all insists on their callers bein’ announced. Oh, they geis high toned and no mistake.” Obviously her night's work was drawing to a close. I had spent a long time following her around and now we were on the last lap. Down the stately corridors she pushed the little truck piled with freshly cleaned cuspidors, stopping here and there at a “gaboon station” to deposit one of the receptacles. There was a flurry through the building as the other workers hurried to finish up the last few tasks before going home, or, in some cases, to other jobs. We turned the corner at the “L” where the back corridor met the longer one running to the main foyer. There, in front of the battery of elevators with elaborate bronze grills was a niche, obviously designed for a heroic statue of some future national figure. Formed by the curve of the winding marble staircase, its mag- nificent background of gleaming white matble is flanked by graceful, classic Corinthian columns which support the stately semi-dome, The charwoman carefully estimated the center-line of the niche. “Yes, suh,” she said with obvious pride, “when they comes over here they sure gets dignity.” And in the center of the classic niche, where it would be convenient for all, she carefully carried out the last of her duties, placing a tiny green and white china cuspidor where some day a hero of America will stand. Even the Bark Is Used HE present low price for hemlock logs for lumber and pulp mill uses has centered interest in-the Pacific Northwest in a branch of the lumbering industry long known and practiced in the Rast, the preparation of bark for tan- ning purposes. The bark of the hemlock has served for generations as a profitable source of the tannic acid used by the tanners Years ago, before there was any shortage in lumber even thought about, it was the prac- tice of tanning bark interests to fell large trees, gather the bark and leave the trunks to rot in the woods. The growth of the acetic acid in- dustry, however, changed this condition and the logs in time came to be the principal product sought. Tan bark, however, once again gives promise of coming into its own as a profitable by-product of the Pacific lumbering.