Visit to Woodrow Wilson by Louis Seibold

by Louis Seibold

Correspondent in Three-Hour Visit Finds President's Mental Vigor Unimpaired

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Executive Gains 20 Pounds in Two Months and He Does More Work Than Before Confinement

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Bears Evidence of Physical Suffering and Walks Slowly With Aid of Cane—Says He Feels Able to Take More Exercise.

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By LOUIS SEIBOLD,
A Staff Correspondent of the Post-Dispatch and New York World.

(Copyright, 1920, by the Press Publishing Co. (New York World..)

WASHINGTON, June 18.—Nine months of courageous battling to repair the consequences of illness resulting from the profligacy with which all earnest men draw upon their balance in the bank of nature has neither daunted the spirit nor impaired in the slightest degree the splendid intellect of Woodrow Wilson.

Nine months of isolation while the orderly processes of nature, combined with tender and efficient care, restored nervous and physical tissues strained by too heavy demands on a physique never robust at best, have manifestly affected the flesh, but have not abridged the intense devotion of Mr. Wilson to the principles for which he fought with the grasping statesmen of Europe and political obstructionists of his own country.

The President has paid in the flesh. There is no doubt about that. But with sublime courage he fought while he lay almost physically helpless. Now that his complete restoration to health seems assured, he fights with determined purpose to bring America to what he considers its sense of duty to the rest of the world, with the fullest realization of his own duty to America. Mr. Wilson's vision and courage through these nine months of illness have but served to make him the more determined that justice and right (as he appraises them) shall prevail throughout the world if every force of influence at his command can accomplish it.

These are the outstanding impressions that the correspondent brought from a three-hour visit of Tuesday last, to the best loved and most hated man in the world, and of half an hour's call on Wednesday.

During the three hours I spent with the President I saw him transact the important functions of his office with his old-time decisiveness, method and keenness of intellectual appraisement.

Facility of Expression.

The correspondent heard him dictate his decisions on matters of great Governmental importance with facility of expression and directness of meaning that indicated no impairment of the efficient mental machine that has known only the hardest kind of work for 40 years.

The correspondent talked with him for upward of an hour, in which were discussed a wide range of subjects and concerning which he expressed himself, not only with Wilsonian vigor, but established the even more gratifying survival of the saving sense of humor.

The correspondent saw him walk from one apartment to another on Tuesday, and on Wednesday accompanied him as he walked with no other help than a cane, none too stout, from the elevator of the White House to his motor car. The cane upon which his right hand found support was the sort of stick he used to thrash through the turnip patches when he was president of Princeton.

His use of it on Wednesday accentuated the heritage of his long illness, yet the halting movement of the motor agencies of his left leg impressed me as being far less pronounced than that which characterized the movements of Gen. Leonard Wood.

There was no dragging of the left foot, as there would be if the President's left leg were completely paralyzed. There was a tendency to lift it a trifle higher and in advance of the sturdy right limb.

The best proof of the great improvement in the President's physical condition was provided when he mounted three improvised wooden steps and entered the motor car with only such assistance as would naturally be given to a person convalescing from serious illness.

In appearance the President seemed much the same as on his return from Paris. He has gained more than 20 pounds in weight during the last two months. His face is not distorted in the slightest degree, as some of the unfriendly versions of his illness have asserted. The Wilson face is much the same as it was, though it bears the impress of great physical suffering.

After he had worked, and we had talked for an hour, the President walked from his office chair on the balcony to the movies in the east room, slowly, cautiously, but with confidence. Mrs. Wilson, the President and the correspondent composed the small and select audience that witnessed a "Bill" Hart thriller in the darkened chamber.

Following the show Mrs. Wilson, the President, Dr. Grayson, Secretary Tumulty and the correspondent discussed luncheon and lighter phases of current events. The President's appetite appeared to be very good, and he was in an entertaining mood. He even attempted a limerick but was prevented by an interruption.

"Visit" to the People.

The interview with the President, during which we discussed a wide range of subjects, was in the nature of a "visit" on his part to the people of the country. It had been arranged in accordance with a suggestion that the President indulge (through the New York World and Post-Dispatch) in a visit with the citizens of the United States for a discussion of those intimate and personal topics which have no place in the formal and official documents through which he transacts the business of the nation. The date was originally fixed for the first of June, but it was deferred until Tuesday last.

The appointment with the President was for 10:30 o'clock. At that hour the correspondent threaded the corridors of the office building to the west of the White House proper, where alert clerks and messengers, the regular detail of vigilant reporters that "cover" the White House and little groups of sightseers provided a scene of activity always fascinating to the visitor.

An attendant piloted the correspondent under a long trellised arbor abutting the formal garden, riotous in splashes of redolent magnolia, hydrangea, duchess de brabant roses, Japanese cherry trees and clinging clusters of Dorothy Perkins and Caroline Testout tree roses.

The President and Mrs. Wilson were found on the south balcony, which juts in a semi-circle out from the mansion, is 30 feet deep, 50 in width and looks out over an impressive stretch of velvety lawn hedged in with magnolias, Japanese quince, spruce pines, majestic maples and squat dogwood.

Two figures were silhouetted at the edge of the balcony against the vista. One of these figures was standing. This was Mrs. Wilson, first lady of the land, gentle in mien, charming in pose and smiling a cordial welcome. The other figure was that of the President, seated in an office chair. Mrs. Wilson was standing with her left hand on the back of this chair and her right arranging some document in a square desk basket.

Mrs. Wilson's frock was of white figured foulard, and she wore no jewels save her wedding ring. After paying my respects to the smiling chatelaine of the White House, I turned to the President. He extended his right hand and gave me a hearty grip, as he said:

"Seibold, I am very glad to see you. It was nice of you to come and visit with me. Sit down for a minute or two while I dispose of these things, and then we will have a visit with the country. Dr. Grayson here, and Mrs. Wilson, think I should not roam around yet, and, of course, I have to obey their orders."

President Turns to His Work.

The President then excused himself and turned to the consideration of some official business. While he was engaged in this task I had a very good opportunity to study him at close range and to make mental note of his system of working.

Mrs. Wilson took from the basket documents requiring the President's attention. Mr. Tumulty drew up a chair to the office table before which the President sat and provided explanations of the documents and circumstances of the subject matter when asked to do so.

Admiral Grayson excused himself to attend to some professional business elsewhere. At times Mrs. Wilson read to the President from the paper in her hand or gave the document to him. He scrutinized it closely, asked a question or two regarding it of Mr. Tumulty, and then proceeded to dispose of the matter with the same studied deliberation that has always characterized his official methods.

Sometimes he directed that the document be sent back for further or clearer explanation. When he had reached the decision he turned to Charles W. Swem, his confidential stenographer, standing with note-book in hand between the President and Mr. Tumulty. The President dictated rapidly his conclusions or orders and there was no suggestion of indecision in doing so. Later on when the President had dictated more than 20 letters, ranging in volume from three lines to 400 or 500 words, he turned his attention to the disposition of documents that had already been reduced to typed writing and affixed his signature. At a distance of six feet one could see that the President wrote firmly and without difficulty and left on the document before him the same copper-plate signature that can be found on more official instruments probably than were ever signed by any man living today. He affixed his signature with meticulous care and without the slightest trace of embarrassment. Once in a while the President collected a laugh out of the documents that passed in review, Mr. Tumulty to Mrs. Wilson, Mrs. Wilson to the President. There was one telegram that caused the President to knit his brows, purse his lips and then ejaculate: "I wonder what he wants."

The telegram was from a gentleman in the West who requested the President to give him some advice concerning a matter which the President had no information.

"I wonder what he wants, Tumulty," said the President. "I mean I wonder what kind of advice he wants. Here is something about which he probably knows everything there is to know, but regarding which I am absolutely in the dark. Perhaps you had better wire him and ask him to stipulate exactly what kind of advice he wants. I have several kinds."

The correspondent's last preceding conversation with the President was on Sept. 27, in Southwestern Colorado.

That was the day before Mrs. Wilson and Dr. Grayson induced the President to abandon the tour he had undertaken to "report" to the people of the United States on his work as the head of the American delegation to the Paris peace conference. It was apparent to every person who accompanied the President on that tour that he had drawn too heavily on his balance in the bank of nature, and was not far from the point of physical and nervous collapse many days before he was ordered to stop. So I still held in my mind the picture of his returning to the train from a stroll with Mrs. Wilson and Dr. Grayson down one of the country roads in the valley near which the doctor had directed a halt in order to give the President badly needed exercise.

The President's condition the next morning, when he was scheduled to give an address at Wichita, Kan., fully justified Mrs. Wilson and Dr. Grayson in canceling the remainder of the trip, and directing his immediate return to Washington.

The man studied at a distance of six feet on the rear portico of the White House on Tuesday did not appear to have changed greatly in facial characteristics since the last meeting with him eight months before. But there was a change. To assert that his face did not bear the marks of illness and suffering would be not only disingenuous, but wholly incorrect.

It was the face of a man who had suffered greatly, but who had endured it with stoicism born of fine courage. It was the same angular face, quite as full in cheek and not the least shrunken at the temples. It was the same face registered in a mental picture eight months before. Yet the marks of illness and confinement was unmistakably there, which even a healthy color surging through the drawn gray skin could not entirely dispel.

The face seemed a bit sharpened, the nose a trifle thinner and more accentuated at the point. But the eyes were the Wilson eyes as they gleamed through the unusually large eyeglasses steadily and kindly. They were unmistakably the Wilson eyes, keen, searching and snappily intelligent. I had read articles purported to describe the face of the President as being drawn on one side, I think it was the left. I could not see anything to justify that statement in the direct glances or in the full features he turned on me at frequent intervals during the three hours that I spent in his company. Certainly, beyond the natural pallor and the manifest consequences of protracted confinement, there was nothing in the Wilson countenance to warrant reports regarding the effect of his illness as far as his face is concerned, at least.

He sat in his chair, drawn to the office desk at which he worked with the assistance of his cheerful and sympathetic helpmeet and his loyal secretary, Mr. Tumulty. It is worth noting, in passing, that every person connected with the White House with whom the President has come in contact since his illness is thoroughly devoted to him in every respect.

The President's Appearance.

Drawn down over his head as Tuesday was an old Panama hat of the sort that men wear on the golf course, soft and light and crinkled in rakishly after the cowboy style. The President was compelled to keep that on his head while at work in the open air because he had indulged in a hair cut earlier in the day.

He was garbed in a dark gray business suit with a low cut, comfortable collar, under which was knotted a gray tie and in the folds of which snuggled a gold eagle.

He had started to arise when the correspondent came onto the balcony to receive his wife, but Mrs. Wilson with restraining hand prevented him from doing so. While it is true that the President sat during the first hour I spent in his company, I saw no indications of the complete paralysis described by persons who have never seen him, yet it was quite obvious that the President is forbidden by his physician to move around any more than is considered warranted by his condition.

There was a slight tendency on his part to "favor" his left side. His arm, however, did not hang helplessly at his side, and he moved it frequently while I was with him, though with less freedom of movement than he displayed in the use of his right. The fact that the President has been a frequent sufferer from neuritis affecting his left arm, probably had much to do with the favor he displayed to that limb. Neuritis is no new enemy to the President. He at intervals suffered from it for many years. Physical exercise prescribed for him by Dr. Grayson has proven so satisfactory that the President's physician is confident the attendant discomfort will soon be conquered.

One has only to look at the President at short range to realize that Mr. Wilson has been a very sick man. But his appearance does not suggest any one of the organic afflictions that might be expected to result in complete physical incapacity. He is restrained from excessive exertion while corrective measures are repairing the damage resulting from his disregard of the rules of nature.

The President made only one reference to the long illness through which he has passed. This was when I felicitated him upon his recovery and expressed the hope that the improvement manifested in his appearance would continue. He turned his kindly eyes full upon me and said with fine courage:

"There is no denying, Seibold, that I have had a hard time of it. I disregarded the inexorable laws of nature by drawing too heavily on my physical resources, which were not strong enough to stand the strain. I regret that, of course, but I did it in a cause that lay nearest my heart and that I could not ignore. And I would do so again though the knowledge of what would happen to me was ever before me.

"I am coming around in good shape and could do a lot more things now if Mrs. Wilson and Dr. Grayson would kindly look the other way once in a while. I suppose that such tender vigilance is justified, but I can tell you now that I have been doing more amid this tranquil setting than I used to do when I spent my days in the office receiving all sorts of people on all sorts of errands.

"I have more time for deliberation and can concentrate with better advantage on the matters which come to me. This morning I was at my desk in my study at 9 o'clock going over matters that needed attention. I affixed my signature to a great many commissions, which is one of the penalties of being President. This afternoon I have a cabinet meeting in my study, and then later on I may go for a motor ride. I get some exercise that is helpful to me but it is not as much as I should like, nor as much as I am going to indulge in later on."

While Mrs. Wilson was engaged in the supervision of her household, which embraces 32 rooms, the President "visited" with the people of the country. The correspondent recalled to him an address he had once heard him deliver. In it he had said that when he wanted to take counsel with the people of the country, he turned from the turmoil of the restless streets and permitted his eye and fancy to wander to the South and West, past the huge monolith over the murky Potomac, threading a brown ribbon between the municipal limits of the capital and the Virginia hills and centered his vision on far away California, Florida, Oregon and Maine, and in between, in an effort to "feel the pulse" and probe the ambitions of the people, whose executive he is.

Eager to Make Personal Call.

"One of the great discomforts of my recent experience," said the President, in commenting on this practice, "has been that I am not permitted to indulge my wish to make a personal call upon the people directly. Perhaps that will come later on. I am eager that it shall."

The President laughed when his attention was called to the charges frequently made during the Senate debates that he is an "autocrat," a "dictator" and "stubborn," and several other disagreeable things.

Laughingly, he said: "You must remember we have a political campaign on. All kinds of criticisms and charges fill the air; investigations are the rule. The purpose of them is easy to understand when you recall the fact that there is a political campaign in front of us. You would think, sometimes, we were bewailing a defeat instead of celebrating a victory."

During the hour that the President and I gossiped leisurely and visualized the tranquil scene before us, we emulated the example provided by the philosophic Carpenter and the sagacious Walrus immortalized in the inimitable drollery of the late Lewis Carroll. We talked of many things. We even discussed the high price of shoes, dissected the policies of certain Kings, and indulged in speculations as to the probable size of the cabbage crop. But I do not recall that either one of us mentioned sealing wax.

The President told me that he naturally found great pleasure in reading, in which he is not restricted. I asked him what works or stories had recently impressed him most. He had said he had read three or four good detective stories "to balance the serious stuff." He made most flattering reference to a story recently printed in the Atlantic Monthly and written by Margaret Prescott Montague. The title of it is, "Uncle Sam of Freedom Ridge," an admirably told tale that made so profound an impression on the President as to provoke him to say, with a deep touch of sentiment:

"That lady has written a story which breathes of a patriotism so pure and wholesome as to make the other things of life seem of little consequence. I wish that every person that questions the benefits to humanity that will be guaranteed by the League of Nations might read it. Don't forget to read it, Seibold."

The President made frequent reference to the lighter side of politics and seemed to extract a good deal of quiet humor over the dilemma in which progressively inclined Republicans now find themselves.

"When a Republican becomes dissatisfied with his own party," said the President, "he has the making of a good Democrat in him. I expect to see many Progressive Republicans headed our way before the campaign is over."

Mrs. Wilson returned to add a cheerful and humorous description of incidents that struck her fancy. Few women possess a keener sense of humor than she, and, though she laughingly avoided all reference to politics, she manifested genuine pleasure when informed that the best speeches delivered in the Republican convention at Chicago had been contributed by women, notably those by Mrs. Douglas Robinson, a sister of the late Theodore Roosevelt, and Mrs. Eugene Pfeiffer, who was Miss Alexandra Carlisle, an actress of distinction.

Walks to Movie Show.

Mr. Hoover, the major domo of the White House, came into the balcony at this juncture and announced that the movie show was about to begin. Mrs. Wilson called the President's personal attendant. The President arose from his chair with slight assistance. The attendant handed him a cane, and, leaning on it, the President walked to the East Room, 40 feet away. Mrs. Wilson and I preceded him into the main corridor, and thence to the East Room, which is one of the most impressive apartments in America.

The President appeared to have been cramped from sitting more than two hours in his office chair and moved slowly, though without apparent discomfort. He removed his Panama hat as we entered the magnificent East Room, where Dollie Madison, nearly a century ago, inaugurated the nearest approach to a court ball we have ever had in this country.

It was here also that Col. Roosevelt made a social lion out of Seth Bullock, the mighty hunter and guide; of Mike Donovan, the pugilist. It was here also that Mr. Taft shook hands for the last time with the late Col. Roosevelt. Here, too, it was the Prince of Wales, grandfather to the likeable young man who paid his respects to President Wilson in the latter's sick chamber six or seven months ago, danced with the Washington belles in the early sixties. But Tuesday the great apartment was darkened with massive tapestries which draped the wide windows.

The President, Mrs. Wilson, and the correspondent were the only spectators at the movies, and we occupied the front and only seats. Back of us, in the dim recesses of the windows, and peering through the doors, were members of the White House staff, white and colored.

The movie showed Bill Hart at his best. The title of the play was "Sand." One of the two movie operators that daily entertain the President and such guests that he invites, said it was the picture that laid Bill up in the hospital because the horse he was riding kicked first.

The President likes Hart's pictures, so does young Gordon Grayson, the 3-year-old son of the Admiral, who sits in the President's lap four or five times a week and refreshingly interprets the various moves on the screen. The Bill Hart movie on Tuesday was in five reels. There were a couple of thrills and punches in every one of them, with a satisfactory love story woven in between the gun plays that Mr. Bill always pulls—on the screen.

Mrs. Wilson and the President seemed to enjoy "Sand" immensely. Once in a while the President commented on some episode that seemed to be unusually "strong stuff" even for Bill Hart. At one period in the action the interpretive script made Bill express the opinion that his job as train despatcher was "not a bed of roses." The President laughed heartily when he read this announcement, and said with a dry chuckle: "He should have had my job once in a while. There were times when I would have been perfectly willing to have traded with him."

After the movie the audience separated. The President got into a wheel chair, which was propelled to the elevator, and, accompanied by Mrs. Wilson, went to dispose of some matters before luncheon. The writer roamed out on to the rear portico with a newspaper in hand to feast his eyes on the drowsy, tranquil scene, which was in striking contrast to the rush and murmur of the baking streets in front, where the asphalt was hot enough to fry an egg. Here from the south portico indolent sheep were the only animate figures in the landscape; the whir and piping of blackbirds the only noises among the trees and shrubbery.

Gains 20 Pounds in Two Months.

Admiral Grayson and Mr. Tumulty came a little later, and we gossiped until Mrs. Wilson and the President turned down from the upper regions. During their absence the Admiral told me that the President had gained 20 pounds in the last two months, and was nearly back to normal in that respect. He also imparted the information that the President had performed a great deal of work since he adopted the plan of remaining away from his apartment in the office building and spending his time at the White House proper.

He said that the President seemed to be perfectly contented with the regimen that he is now following, and had given no serious thought to going away from Washington to escape the deadly heat of July and August.

"As a matter of fact," said the Admiral, "the President doesn't mind the heat in the least. Perhaps he will change his mind later on, but up to the present time he has not expressed any desire to go away."

After luncheon Mr. Tumulty, Admiral Grayson and the correspondent departed and the President went to his room to prepare for the Cabinet meeting, scheduled to begin at 2:30 o'clock, half an hour away.

On Wednesday afternoon at 3:30 o'clock the correspondent called at the White House to bid the President good-by before leaving Washington later in the afternoon. He sent word from his study that he was on the point of going for a motor ride, and would the writer please wait for him in the Green Room.

In three or four minutes the elevator descended. In it were the President, Mrs. Wilson, Mrs. Bolling, the mother of Mrs. Wilson, and Miss Bolling. But the elevator didn't stop for Admiral Grayson and myself. The President was standing, surrounded by the other figures, and I could not see whether he used a cane or not.

When the Admiral and the correspondent reached the lower floor Mrs. Wilson and her mother and sister had left the elevator and the President was just emerging from it. From the distance of a dozen feet he suggested a man ready to sally forth for a stroll on the beach. He had discarded his panama of the day before and wore a sailor straw hat with a dark blue ribbon around it, a short blue flannel coat and white flannel trousers. His feet were shod in white canvas shoes.

The distance from the elevator through the intervening chambers to the garden in the rear of the White House is probably 100 feet. The President negotiated this distance without any help save his cane. He took his time about it as did the rest of us. I had the impression that he moved with the same degree of caution as would a man recovering from an operation and but recently entering the convalescent stage.

Yet there was no hesitancy in his step or apparent lack of confidence. His movements, while slow, were not those of a man whose lower limbs have become paralyzed. He did not drag his left foot. He raised it clear from the flooring, a trifle higher than his right one. It did not seem to me that he leaned very heavily upon his stick. He was in most cheerful spirits. His color seemed better, in fact, than the day before.

While advancing to the motor car I called the attention of Mrs. Wilson and the President to a portrait of former President Arthur hanging in the corridor. This portrait of the Chesterfieldian New Yorker who succeeded Mr. Garfield presents him wearing a magnificent sable overcoat, almost as good as the one the late "Diamond Jim" Brady used to sport in Upper Broadway. I told Mrs. Wilson and the President an apocryphal story, current in New York, that Mr. Arthur had halted the work of the painter to retrieve his fur coat from storage, even though the period was sweltering August.

The President's Pun.

The President stopped, and, turning to me, said: "Perhaps Mr. Arthur wanted to help along the business of the Hudson Bay Fur Company."

"I think," I replied, "that probably Mr. Arthur desired protection from the chilly attitude of the Republican party of his day toward his presidential aspirations.

"Oh, that's too fur fetched," said the President with a grin of appreciation at his own pun.

By this time we had reached the motor car. Without aid the President lifted his left foot to the first step. Admiral Grayson probably thought this display of energy too ambitious. He signalled to one of the attendants to relieve the President of his cane and lend slight assistance up the remaining two steps and into the car.

The President did not show any effects of the journey from the elevator to the motor and was smiling and breathing quietly as he settled in the tonneau. He extended his right hand and gave mine a firm grip.

As the car wheeled through the drive and into the open avenue between the White House grounds and the War, Navy and State Department Building, the President raised his hat with his right hand in acknowledgment of my parting salute.