Oral History Interview with
Stenographer-typist, Hoover White House; Secretary to appointments secretaries of Presidents Roosevelt, Truman, and Eisenhower.
June 11, 1987
by Niel M. Johnson
[Notices and Restrictions | Interview Transcript | List of Subjects Discussed]
This is a transcript of a tape-recorded interview conducted for the Harry S. Truman Library. A draft of this transcript was edited by the interviewee but only minor emendations were made; therefore, the reader should remember that this is essentially a transcript of the spoken, rather than the written word.
Numbers appearing in square brackets (ex. ) within the transcript indicate
the pagination in the original, hardcopy version of the oral history interview.
This oral history transcript may be read, quoted from, cited, and reproduced for purposes of research. It may not be published in full except by permission of the Harry S. Truman Library.
Opened September, 1988
Harry S. Truman Library
[Top of the Page | Notices and Restrictions | Interview Transcript | List of Subjects Discussed]
Oral History Interview with
June 11, 1987
by Niel M. Johnson
JOHNSON: I'm going to start out, Miss Barrows, by asking you if you would
tell us when and where you were born and what your parents' names were.
BARROWS: I was born in Waynesville, Pulaski County, Missouri, on April
30, 1900. My mother was Louella Mitchell Barrows. She was born on a farm
in adjoining Laclede County. My father's name was William Joseph Barrows,
and he was born in Laclede County, in Lebanon, Missouri.
JOHNSON: So they're Missourians.
BARROWS: But that had nothing to do with Mr. Truman; he only knew me
as a White House employee.
JOHNSON: Did you go to school there then?
BARROWS: No. I came here when I was six years old.
JOHNSON: You came to Washington?
BARROWS: Washington, D.C.
My father came in 1901, with our Congressman whose name I do not recall.
He first worked in the Census Bureau, and later in the Wilson administration
he was deputy to the Postmaster General.
JOHNSON: So he was in the Census Bureau and then the Post Office.
BARROWS: Yes. And I lived on Capitol Hill, in a big three story house.
JOHNSON: Near the Capitol Building?
BARROWS: We were eight blocks from the Capitol Building.
JOHNSON: Do you remember the address?
BARROWS: 907 Massachusetts Avenue, N.E. I lived there until 1951.
JOHNSON: You lived in that same building until 1951, from the age of
BARROWS: No. At first we rented, a few blocks away, but the house wasn't
quite large enough, so we bought the Massachusetts Avenue house. I don't
recall the year they bought it. I was still in grade school; I do remember
JOHNSON: So you went to elementary schools here?
BARROWS: I went to elementary school and high school, Central High School,
which is now Cordozo. It was called Old Central High School, but it doesn't
exist under that name. I went two years to Felix Mahoney's School of Fine
and Applied Arts, which has gone, long since. Then my father died and
I went to business school and learned to be a stenographer.
JOHNSON: What school was that?
BARROWS: I went to two. The first one was the Washington School for Secretaries,
and the second one was the Temple. I think that's correct.
BARROWS: One of them is still in existence; I think the first one.
JOHNSON: This was after you got your high school diploma?
BARROWS: Yes. I then went to art school. After father's death, I had
to go to work. I did work first at Suffrage headquarters, where my mother
was active. That was where the Supreme Court Building now stands. It was
called the National Woman's Party, and was run by the women who had picketed
the White House in the First World War. One of them happened to have been
my French teacher. My mother used to go there but, of course, she didn't
have the time to really do anything but fold envelopes and stuff them,
that kind of thing. Women had the vote by then. At that time they had
what they called the Bill of Rights, trying to get it through Congress.
It was sponsored by, of all people, Senators [Kenneth D.] McKellar and
Cordell Hull, both of Tennessee. When my father died I went to work for
the National Woman's Party at a very small salary. I liked it.
JOHNSON: What year would this be?
BARROWS: 1922; that's my recollection.
JOHNSON: Your father died in 1922?
BARROWS: In June of 1922. Then I went to business school.
JOHNSON: Then you went to business school, and lived with your mother?
BARROWS: Yes, I lived at home. I could walk up to Suffrage headquarters.
It's too bad they razed that building. I'm positive that now they would
not have been allowed to, because it was the old Capitol. When the British
burned the Capitol, they [Americans] used that as the capitol building.
And the Supreme Court met there. In my childhood, it consisted of three
gray, slate-colored enormous mansions, which were boarding homes. Washington
didn't have many apartments at that time. And then the National Woman's
Party bought it, but I don't know when. I think in 1923 it was razed and
the Supreme Court was built. But during the Civil War it was a Federal
prison, and when Lincoln was assassinated, all of the culprits except
Booth were quickly dumped into it. Even as a girl, when we'd go downstairs
in the basement to get flags and things for big parades, you could still
see the remains of the cells left from the Civil War.
JOHNSON: That was where those implicated in the assassination were held?
BARROWS: Yes. Even before, during the Civil War, it was a Union prison,
and only for officers, usually Confederate naval officers.
JOHNSON: Were you an only child?
BARROWS: No. My mother had five daughters and two sons. Only one son
JOHNSON: So you are one of six...
BARROWS: I'm the baby.
JOHNSON: Oh, you're the youngest.
BARROWS: The only one left, the afterthought.
JOHNSON: Did any of your brothers go into Government, Federal service?
BARROWS: No, they did not. My oldest sister and my brother were married
about a year before we came here. The rest of them came to Washington
and were married here. When we moved here they were young too.
JOHNSON: You're the only survivor now.
BARROWS: The last one died three years ago. They were all married; I'm
the only single one.
JOHNSON: After your father died, you began work then as a...
BARROWS: I took the Civil Service exam after working for the National
Woman's Party. I don't know why -- I didn't enjoy business school. I wanted
to be an artist. It's just as well, I'm sure.
JOHNSON: But you were still able to do it as a hobby weren't you?
BARROWS: In other words, what happened to me was never my own doing.
I was dragged, screaming as it were. So then I took the Civil Service
Examination. I went to work in a small office called the Intelligence
Unit of the Bureau of Internal Revenue. The Intelligence Unit was new
then, and it was an investigatory unit. It was ridiculous; it not only
investigated people's income tax, it investigated their personal morals.
They also enforced the Prohibition Act. I was young enough to enjoy that
too. I worked there for about six years during Mr. Coolidge's administration,
and I traveled some. They'd take me on trips. That was before the FBI
was put under Civil Service. Edgar Hoover -- I remember him when he was
young -- was head of it. We interviewed bootleggers when they'd catch
them. It was all a big joke really. We'd take their deposition; they’d
go to jail for a day or two and come out and start in again.
JOHNSON: So you had to type transcripts of those interviews -- you had
to record and...
BARROWS: I took it in shorthand. I had taken speedwriting. I would go
to Savannah. There in Savannah were the "rum runners," as they
called them then, going by boat between the Carribean islands and Cuba,
to Georgia, and Florida. I've forgotten how many trips I made down there.
There was one chap, I've forgotten his name, Willie somebody.
JOHNSON: To take depositions?
BARROWS: Yes. He was the Al Capone of the South.
JOHNSON: Now what year did you start work for the Intelligence Unit?
JOHNSON: So you've had a long career with the Federal Government.
BARROWS: Yes, I really have.
JOHNSON: How long did that job last?
BARROWS: Well, that lasted about four years until I went over to the
Board of Tax Appeals, as it was called then. It's now called the United
States Tax Court. It was then downtown in the Earle Building.
JOHNSON: What year was that?
BARROWS: I don't know, in the late 1920s. A friend of mine told me of
this wonderful place to work in which each judge had two law clerks; I
think there were twelve judges. Each judge had a secretary, and then the
law clerks shared a secretary. They paid good salaries, and in the summertime
the judges -- most were men of wealth -- would go to their summer homes.
Life was pretty soft. That's really why I went there.
JOHNSON: So you started working there then.
BARROWS: Well, I knew the head judge.
JOHNSON: Talking about going to the summer homes and so on, what kind
BARROWS: I didn't get to that point. I never saw a summer home.
JOHNSON: What kind of vacations, and what kind of pay did they give in
BARROWS: Let's see, I got about $2,300 a year. I went in in February
of 1929. I was in New York in '28 working for the Intelligence Unit taking
depositions. I had my mother come up, and A1 Smith was the candidate against
Hoover that year. Of course, we were for A1 Smith. I do remember where
I was and what happened there. I had applied for the other job, and when
I came home I got it. I went to work for the Tax Board in February of
I loved the Tax Board. It was a court, but hadn't been named a court.
In July the Chief Judge, who was an old friend from other days, called
me into his office and said, "I have to tell you this; the White
House, under Mr. Hoover, doesn't have enough help. Heretofore
the White House only had male help, but the girls who came in with Hoover
and have been with him for years in his career, are just about exhausted.
They've sent out a man to the Civil Service and they've looked up records,
and they looked at yours and they've told me you have to be released and
sent over for an interview." I said, "Oh, please, couldn't you
get someone else?" "No," he replied, "because you're
the last girl we employed. I'll tell you, I'll promise you this, if you
don't like it, stay three months and I'll make someone else go."
Nobody wanted to go.
JOHNSON: No one wanted to go to the White House?
BARROWS: No, you have no idea. The White House was a nice place I'm sure,
but no women worked there.
JOHNSON: Is that right?
JOHNSON: All male secretaries in there?
BARROWS: I think there was always a female social secretary on the distaff
side, but never on the President's side in the West Wing.
JOHNSON: This judge that you were working for, what was his name?
BARROWS: Benjamin Littleton.
BARROWS: From Tennessee, a Republican.
JOHNSON: So now you're in with the Republicans.
BARROWS: East Tennessee. Politics made very little difference in the
Government then, none at all. You know, if you read the papers they always
say, "Washington, before World War II, was a little southern town."
Well, I never lived in a little southern town to remember, but I guess
it was. We were not impressed with the White House. You might come in
from lunch and say, "Oh, I just saw the President and "Mrs.
Whoseit' come out and take a ride," or something. "Oh, you did!"
And that would be it. Mr. Coolidge took a walk every day after his nap.
I can at least remember two instances when I was walking on F Street looking
into windows at clothes, and bumped into Mr. Coolidge and the Secret Service.
JOHNSON: Is that right?
BARROWS: Right with the crowd. Everybody paused.
JOHNSON: Did he have just one or two Secret Service men with him?
BARROWS: Yes. Two I think; I don't know.
JOHNSON: But you would literally bump into him on the sidewalk?
BARROWS: Everybody would stop and smile, and he'd bow. He liked to walk
and he loved to look in store windows; I understand he selected his wife's
JOHNSON: Did you tour the White House? Did you ever tour the White House
BARROWS: I suppose I must have; we always had a lot of visitors.
JOHNSON: So you did go up to the White House to work for Hoover then?
BARROWS: I went over and we interviewed in the lobby. I told the Civil
Service scout that I preferred not to
come if he could possibly find someone else. That was the Fourth of July
JOHNSON: In '29.
BARROWS: In '29, and I can remember how hopeful I was that I wouldn't
have to go, after having rather begged off to the gentleman at the White
House as politely as I could. But when I got to work the Monday after
the holiday, I was called in again by the Chief Judge and he said, "You're
it, you have to go. But I'll still give you my promise. I'll have you
relieved in three months if you want to come back." He didn't blame
me. So I went. I worked first in a room in the West Wing. I presume it
would be called a basement, but the windows were level with the sidewalk
-- very comfortable.
JOHNSON: In the West Wing.
BARROWS: Yes. At that time only this room and the file room were on that
JOHNSON: When the President went from the living quarters to the oval
office in the West Wing, would you see him go by?
BARROWS: Not from that location.
JOHNSON: Okay. So who did you work for? Who was your immediate supervisor?
BARROWS: I’m trying to think. I guess whoever sent for me. I presume
now we would all it a stenographic pool. Mr. Hoover had a press secretary
for the first time. He had a legislative secretary, who was an ex-Congressman
from the Middlewest, for the first time. And he had an all around, very
close secretary, who ran the White House.
JOHNSON: Do you remember her name?
BARROWS: Him. These were all “hims.” His name was Larry Richey.
He really was a Italian, and the name had been anglicized I’ve been
told. He had been with Mr. Hoover for many, many years in his career.
Of course, Mr. Hoover was a very rich man. He had been with him in England
where he had lived most of his adult business life. The Hoovers lived
in England just out of London. And he, Mr. Richey, was the boss.
JOHNSON: What kind of correspondence did you handle, or
did you handle correspondence?
BARROWS: Well, I took dictation from the first person to send for me;
I wouldn't be sure. Oh, he had one other man, a speechwriter, French Strother.
He had been Doubleday Publishers, and he was a Democrat. Oddly, enough,
I believe he was from Missouri too.
JOHNSON: What kind of work did you have to do then?
BARROWS: Well, I can't remember exactly, mostly correspondence. You would
be sent for. Also, that first summer, each girl was assigned a night,
and mine was Thursday. You got off at 1 o'clock, and did what you pleased.
Then you came back to the White House after dinner, and you went to the
main mansion and you sat in what was then called the Social Room down
in the basement. In the daylight it was the Social office where all the
invitations and such were handled. You read a book; did anything you liked
until the President went to bed. Luckily for most of us, the President
retired fairly early. That was the main reason we were hired I think,
as he often attended to his mail in the evenings.
JOHNSON: In other words, you started to work about what
time in the morning?
BARROWS: At nine.
JOHNSON: At nine and then at 1 o'clock you left.
BARROWS: Now that was just one day a week.
JOHNSON: And then you'd come back about dinner time, and stay until he
went to bed?
BARROWS: And stay until he went to bed; you were to be there if he called
JOHNSON: And that was one day a week.
BARROWS: And my day was Thursday.
JOHNSON: What about the other days? What were the hours?
BARROWS: The odds were that you would be sent for sometime during the
day by one of those upstairs secretaries, the gentlemen that I mentioned.
JOHNSON: But your regular working day was what hours?
BARROWS: Nine to 5:00.
JOHNSON: Did you type up speeches? Do you remember doing
anything like that?
BARROWS: No, not then.
JOHNSON: This was all correspondence?
BARROWS: Yes. It was July, when the President sent for me the first time,
on the evening shift. I think in all he never sent for anybody more than
three times, and I happened to have been called twice. And it was an ordeal.
He had the reputation of being a charmer, but he hid it well. He was
timid with women I understand.
JOHNSON: Did you take dictation?
BARROWS: Yes, shaking in every bone. He chewed a cigar – unlit
-- and he never looked at you.
JOHNSON: Is that right?
BARROWS: And I never could hear him.
JOHNSON: And he's chomping on this cigar while he was talking, while
he was dictating?
BARROWS: It was pretty awful. He was trying to put you at ease, I understand,
and it was too bad.
JOHNSON: Did you have to ask him once in a while to stop and...
BARROWS: I had to have help. I would go to the three girls who had come
in with him and been with him for years. I presume when he dictated to
any of them he wasn’t self-conscious. I don’t know.
JOHNSON: So he was kind of shy, you are saying?
BARROWS: Of women, shy of women. So I was told, because I wondered why
anybody in the world would do that.
JOHNSON: So he dictated at least three or four letters to you?
BARROWS: At Christmas 1929, the girls who had come in with him, went
home for Christmas. I was the only person there then that worked a great
deal for the people upstairs, and they knew me. They were awfully nice
to me. So they brought me upstairs, put me in Mr. Richey’s outer
room by myself. The President was right across the hall. They’ve
remodeled the offices since. So I had to cover the President for Christmas.
It was awful.
JOHNSON: Wow. Now, are you talking about the Oval Office when you say
BARROWS: I was across the hall from the Oval Office. The Oval Office
was in the middle. On the left was the Cabinet room, and on the right
was the appointments secretary's office. There was a hall about 12 feet
wide where I sat in one room, and back of that Mr. Richey, the boss, had
his office. I mean that's where I landed at Christmas. So that was my
beginning up the ladder...
JOHNSON: Did it have a room number?
BARROWS: Oh, no. Very informal.
JOHNSON: Down the hall was the Press Secretary's office?
BARROWS: I was about 12 feet from the President's door.
JOHNSON: About 12 feet is all. Right next to the Press Secretary's office?
BARROWS: No, next to the big boss, Mr. Richey's office. This was just
for Christmastime. So I worked during the holiday for Mr. Richey, all
I could. I liked him a lot,
and he was quite dear to help me. I would stumble into the President's
office when he rang, which was seldom, and somehow I got through it. From
then on, I became better known, and they didn't send me back downstairs.
Where did I go? I can't tell you exactly. I landed in the legislative
secretary's office; his name was Walter Newton and he was awfully nice.
He had what seemed to me then a very old secretary; I'm sure she must
have been 40! She was very kind to me.
JOHNSON: What was her name?
BARROWS: Potter, Mrs. Potter, a widow, a newspaperman's widow. I believe
they were from Minnesota. I stayed in that office. George Akerson was
the Press Secretary; he was from Minneapolis. He sort of liked me and
the first thing you know, he wanted me. There was a little rumpus, but
I landed there. In the meantime, I got a little fed up with it all, and
went back to Judge Littleton. And I said, "I want to come back. Can't
you possibly, you promised." He said, "Well, just before you
came in, Larry Richey phoned me and said I was not under any circumstances
to release you." And he said, "We have to always oblige the
I told you, I was dragged screaming. It was pretty hard hours, and by
this time things were getting near the Depression. Also, on Christmas
Eve 1929 the West Wing burned down, the outer walls only remained.
JOHNSON: Oh, you remember a fire there. Do you remember the fire?
BARROWS: I remember that Christmas holiday, working for the President;
oh I was loaded with "loot" -- they were so nice to me, candy,
etc. I was being envied, but I was not happy. Before they sent me home
in the White House car, I put my head in Mr. Newton's door, because I
liked him a lot, to say "Happy Christmas." And I thought, "How
can they stand this heat?" It was in that fireplace, that the fire
started. Then, when I woke up the next morning, the papers were full of
it. So we moved over to what is now called the EOB, but was then the State,
War and Navy Building, occupied by those departments. There was a big
beautiful office called General Pershing's quarters, which he occupied
not at all, and it faced the burned-out White House office. That room
was given the President, and we were alloted adjoining rooms; not the
first day, however.
JOHNSON: That would be after the fire?
BARROWS: After the fire we worked in the White House proper, on the second
floor, for three days and fell over each other. It was awkward.
JOHNSON: You mean in the main quarters, not in the White House wings?
BARROWS: Right where the bedrooms are. The President had his office in
a bedroom converted to a study.
JOHNSON: Oh, the study became the Oval Office, so to speak.
BARROWS: Well, his study in the living quarters.
BARROWS: We were in the corridors, and in the bedrooms; what a mess!
Somehow they straightened things out. We worked in the State, War and
Navy Building until the spring of 1930. About May or June, we moved back
to the new West Wing. Bless their soul -- Congress had voted enough money
for an air-conditioning system, the first one to be put in the White House,
and it was delightful. So there we worked, in a new Executive
office, or west wing.
JOHNSON: The first summer they had air-conditioning was the summer of
BARROWS: The first I had ever worked in. I don't know whether the movies
had air-conditioning or not; I can't remember. But it was very nice, and
just right, better than it is now, as a matter of fact.
JOHNSON: A lot happened between 1929 and '30 in your career.
BARROWS: Yes. I went back to work for Mr. Newton then, I think, because
I was there when the Depression came in October 1930. Then there was a
place where Camp David is now, and I with two of the President's girls,
secretaries, used to go up there weekends. He wouldn't be there, but we
JOHNSON: Do you remember their names?
BARROWS: Yes. Only one is living now, though. I think she's living; her
name is Eastman, and the other one's name was McGrath. They were girls
from New York State who had been with Mr. Hoover in his Commerce days.
JOHNSON: You used to go to what now is Camp David?
BARROWS: I believe it's the same place. It has the same entrance, a lovely
place. Mr. Richey owned it jointly with a big Cadillac dealer here in
Washington, a big Republican.
JOHNSON: So you got to go there once in a while then?
BARROWS: Yes. And then he, Mr. Richey, had another place at Indian Head,
Maryland, where the Potomac flows into the Chesapeake Bay. The house was
simple, a lodge. He had caretakers, so we went there [Indian Head site]
sometimes. The girls had a car -- I didn't -- an old Ford, and we would
go down to Indian Head. They were awfully nice women, near my age. They
were so very nice and kind. I enjoyed it a lot. The swimming was excellent.
There was a caretaker and his wife who had quarters there too. They had
a little dog -- those two girls --- and they always took it with them,
and Mr. Richey had a little dog, and they always took him. There were
cats down there too. And there were tame deer up in the hills (at Camp
David site). It was very pleasant.
JOHNSON: What was McGrath's first name?
BARROWS: She was named Myra, and Miss Eastman's name was Dorothy. I think
she's still living here in Washington.
JOHNSON: Were you supposed to be working 40-hour weeks? Was that the
BARROWS: We worked every day in the week, except Saturday afternoons.
And so did the whole Government.
JOHNSON: They worked Saturday mornings in those days?
JOHNSON: And so the Depression has hit...
BARROWS: The President would usually go in the summertime down to Rapidan,
Virginia where he had a fishing lodge. That was, I think, near Chancellorsville,
Virginia, near the battleground.
JOHNSON: I know of Rapidan.
BARROWS: I believe it's quite near the National Park. The battle was
there. I've never been there. As I recall, he had a secretary. Although
Miss McGrath did most of his work, he had another girl named Ann Shankey,
who is dead.
I'll tell you something very amusing.
BARROWS: How little politics mattered, because I told them I was for
A1 Smith, of course. I thought it would help to get me back. Ann Shankey
had been a girlfriend of Jim Farley; they came from the same town, when
she was a young girl. She asked me if I knew him.
Jim Farley became Roosevelt's campaign manager. Ann said, "Oh, I
used to be his girlfriend." Of course, she married someone else.
JOHNSON: Now, you're working still in the White House, in the depths
of the Depression, in 1931, '32.
BARROWS: Then I went again to the Press Secretary, who had no secretary
-- Mr. Akerson. He demanded that I come back to him. So I went back to
him, but I don't know why because he never did any work. Mail would pile
JOHNSON: Didn't do the work very well, you say.
BARROWS: He didn't do any paperwork. I had to write his letters. I guess
that was my fatal mistake.
JOHNSON: You mean you had to write letters in reply to people who were
writing in to the President. You had to ghostwrite letters?
BARROWS: That's when it began.
JOHNSON: So that's when you got your first experience with a Press Secretary?
BARROWS: That was my second experience with him.
JOHNSON: So you came back to him and that lasted how long?
BARROWS: Then he left. Went back to newspapering, and was replaced by
the President with a new secretary whose name was Joslyn.
JOHNSON: His first name was?
BARROWS: The others called him Ted, a little man. He worked for a newspaper
but I've forgotten by now what it was. The girl who had previously worked
for the speechwriter went to work for him. In other words, she took the
job I had held because the speechwriter went back to Doubleday. He resigned
to write a book.
JOHNSON: Oh, I see.
BARROWS: So we got a new speechwriter named George Hastings from New York.
I was assigned to him. They built two rooms on the east side of the West
Wing, against the office wall looking east toward the White House, down
the colonnade, and onto the Rose Garden. It was a lovely little office
-- I was in one room; the speechwriter was in another.
JOHNSON: And this was right by the Oval Office then?
BARROWS: That's right: against it -- an extension.
JOHNSON: And by the Rose Garden?
BARROWS: This square is the building where the Oval office sits, and
when the President went home for lunch or came in or out, or anywhere,
he opened this door and went out on this lovely pillared porch. He came
down here, and here I am, right here; here are our rooms. Here's the colonnade,
here's the Rose Garden, and the President came this way when he went home
for lunch. And every morning he came this same way. He had a dog; the
only good thing about sitting out there was the dog. He had a lot of dogs,
and I loved them.
JOHNSON: Now were these temporary rooms, or were they permanent?
BARROWS: I don't know what they are now. I guess they were redone when
Mrs. Roosevelt moved in.
JOHNSON: Okay, she probably revamped things.
BARROWS: During the Depression, an architect did them all over.
JOHNSON: The rooms?
BARROWS: They moved everything, the oval office, everything, and I don't
know what happened to those two rooms.
JOHNSON: Oh, that's right, he rebuilt it and made it larger in '34, I
BARROWS: So finally I'm in this room working for the speechwriter. Well,
I worked for him maybe for six months.
JOHNSON: Now, he's a Hoover speechwriter.
BARROWS: Yes. Times were getting terrible; they cut our salaries to where
I almost worked for nothing.
JOHNSON: What did they pay you? Do you remember what they paid you?
BARROWS: Well, there was an 8 percent cut. That was for the payroll people.
We were not on the White House payroll; they had no payroll of any size.
Congress was very stingy with them. So we were all paid by the places
we had originally come from, been drafted from. I had been drafted from
the Bureau -- I don't know what they called the Tax Board then. So salaries
in those places were cut 16 percent. I can't imagine it, but luckily I
lived at home and could manage.
JOHNSON: And you had to help pay the rent too didn't you?
BARROWS: Well, it helped. I had two sisters who were still at home. One
had married and divorced, so she was home. And the other one was widowed.
She had married a man in the First World War and he was a good bit older
and he died. So there really were three women at home, four counting my
mother, and we kept a maid so my mother wouldn't have to work. It was
a ten-room house, and she was not young. Anyway, that's the way it was.
The Depression got worse, and worse, and the President then began to go
out on campaign trips. One time I went, by accident. One of the girls
that usually went got sick at the last minute. I had to go home and get
my toothbrush and so forth and hop on the train. It was just an overnight
trip to Cleveland.
JOHNSON: This was in 1932?
BARROWS: In '32. Near the end of the campaign is my recollection. He
drew terribly large crowds at the train.
JOHNSON: Huge crowds he got?
BARROWS: On that one trip, that one overnight trip.
JOHNSON: What was your job?
BARROWS: I helped. I really can't remember -- on the typewriter. There
was one other girl. The other girl that had gotten sick -- I don't know
what she would have done -- but I guess I did what she did. I don't recollect.
At that time I didn't know what to expect from a Presidential campaign.
We got on the train in Washington, had dinner aboard the train and worked
all night. I didn't like that very much, but I had to. Maybe we had an
hour's sleep. Sometime that next day I got a nap, and that next night
I remember the President made a speech in Cleveland, Ohio,
from the back of the train. The crowd was tremendous. Everyone thought
he would be defeated, and I thought, "Well, how can he be?"
As I say, I really didn't know much about it.
JOHNSON: That was the only trip you went on in the '32 campaign?
BARROWS: The only trip, that's right. I had to work at night several
times during that autumn of the '32 campaign, in the White House proper,
with the speechwriters.
JOHNSON: In the mansion now, the living quarters?
BARROWS: In the mansion.
JOHNSON: What room did they use there?
BARROWS: Well, those rooms are changed with each administration. At that
time it was a yellow room. Someone said it had something to do with treaties,
but being in the living quarters I may be mistaken, I really don't know.
JOHNSON: Was it a yellow, a kind of a yellow room?
BARROWS: No, it wasn't a yellow room, in a sense that you would call it
that. It was a beautiful room. But I think it has long since been converted
to something else, because in the Roosevelt years I worked a great deal
in the living quarters, and I don't remember it existing. If I saw it
again, it was something else.
JOHNSON: Did it make any difference to you then whether Hoover was defeated
or not? Of course, he was defeated by Franklin Roosevelt.
BARROWS: At the time I had gotten awfully fond of the people. I really
had; they were awfully nice. So it mattered.
JOHNSON: When the Roosevelts came in, then some of those had to leave,
BARROWS: I got out before Roosevelt came in.
JOHNSON: You left too?
BARROWS: From what I read in the papers at least, it had been a very
dirty campaign; it really had, even I knew that. They not only insinuated,
but printed, that Roosevelt had not had polio, but VD, and had no hesitation
about saying which one. And that's the kind
of thing those old-time campaigns were full of. You know, we think this
Gary Hart thing is dirty, but they were dirtier.
JOHNSON: It was old stuff.
BARROWS: It was my first experience with one, and I thought they were
JOHNSON: Well, the economic situation was so bad that Hoover apparently
had no chance of winning.
BARROWS: Oh, you haven't any idea. You probably weren't even born.
JOHNSON: You saw bread lines and people selling apples and that sort
of thing here?
BARROWS: It was terrible. The worst thing was when the veterans asked
for a bonus.
JOHNSON: Oh yes, the bonus marchers.
BARROWS: From home I rode the street car, and I went right by the Capitol
every day and they were always in the C