National Affairs: Deep Tan

Harry Truman’s vacation on the Presidential yacht Williamsburg had been going badly. In Narragansett Bay he had encountered wind, cold and rain. Then he had found himself struggling against the nameless indignities of seasickness. As the yacht rolled southeast on her hunt for the sun he had bribed his queasy stomach with seasick pills. But now, in the harbor of Hamilton, Bermuda, the deck was solid, the water blue, and there were white coral, pastel walls and green foliage ashore.

He found himself liking Bermuda better & better. The crowd that greeted him at the pier was friendly and polite. The formalities were simple. He rode to the Governor’s palace in an open, horse-drawn landau, spent a few minutes, rode back. After that he savored his leisure as he pleased.

He sunned himself on the yacht’s fantail, went swimming, loafed, read. One day jovial Crony George Allen persuaded him, against his better judgment, to take a fishing trip. To his delight he caught more fish than anyone else in the party—13½ pounds all told. Even better, Major General Harry A. Vaughan got seasick while the President did not feel a qualm.

As the hot, sleepy days slipped by the President’s tan deepened; he toured the island by automobile, took morning walks past semitropical flowers, spent lazy evenings on the yacht. At week’s end he was considering prolonging his visit, returning to Washington by plane at the last possible minute.