Greeter to the World

Next came the guests, mostly Kings and Queens, and among them Alice recognized the White Rabbit; it was talking in a hurried nervous manner, smiling at everything that was said, and went by without noticing her.

At an airline gate at Washington's National Airport, two tall and solid-looking men stood chatting volubly in German. At departure time the two shook hands and murmured "auf wiedersehen." Then Austrian Chancellor Julius Raab entered the plane. His companion, State Department Protocol Officer John Farr Simmons, waited at the gate until the plane was aloft; then he turned and hurried back to his desk at the State Department.

For Jack Simmons, 62, the chore of seeing Chancellor Raab off was just part of one of the most exacting, endless jobs in the world: representing the U.S. in all non-political relations with foreign officials. As the Government's top public-relations man, Simmons is as busy as the White Rabbit in the garden of the Queen of Hearts. He is the VIP's avenue to President Eisenhower, a caterer who solves some global gastronomic problems,* handyman for royalty, custodian of the Great Seal of the United States, and Washington's most indefatigable partygoer.

Line of Duty. In one 30-minute period last week, Simmons 1) pondered (and solved) one embassy's request for more parking space; 2) read and signed telegrams to the governor of Hawaii and the Navy's Pacific commander that outlined a program for the reception in Honolulu of Ceylonese Prime Minister Sir John Kotelawala; 3) scheduled the new Rumanian minister's first official visit to the State Department; 4) checked worriedly to determine whether Chancellor Raab was planning to follow his toast to the President with a short speech at a state dinner (he wasn't); 5) considered proper farewells for the Prime Ministers of Sweden, Norway and Denmark, who were preparing to go home after a brief visit.

In addition to his desk work, Simmons must fulfill an overwhelming number of engagements that to ordinary citizens would seem to be mostly social, but to Simmons are strictly line of duty. In one recent week he: lunched with the Nicaraguan ambassador; attended receptions at the Venezuelan embassy, the Latvian legation and General Matthew Ridgway's quarters; dined twice at the White House; flew to New York to represent the President at the departure of Britain's Queen Mother; returned to Washington in time to meet French Premier Mendes-France; escorted Mendes-France to the White House and the National Press Club; lunched with Vice Presidents Richard Nixon of the U.S. and Sir Sarvepalli Radhakrishnan of India; escorted 32 women from U.N. headquarters to a meeting with Mrs. Eisenhower; greeted Chancellor Raab at Union Station.

Beware of Ducks. Sometimes in the course of his official comings and goings, Simmons encounters some odd problems. When the Shah and Queen of Iran arrive in Washington this month, he must make certain that they are served no pork at any meal. When Emperor Haile Selassie was in town, Simmons' menu taboos included the flesh of web-footed fowl. He replenished official stocks of cigars and brandy for the visits of Prime Ministers Churchill and Yoshida. He got tickets to a New York Yankee baseball game for Japan's Crown Prince Akihito. In Las Vegas last winter, before the arrival of Turkish President Celal Bayar, Simmons discreetly ordered the removal of a floral replica of a fez--which the late great Mustafa Kemal Ataturk banished from Turkey--at the Thunderbird Hotel. A good stage manager, Simmons tries to time the arrivals of high-ranking visitors in the late afternoon so that the Washington streets will be filled with homing Government workers. Their stares always give the impression of an impressive welcome.

Time was when the protocol officer had little more to do than issue diplomatic automobile licenses, approve seating arrangements at official dinners and appease uninvited dowagers. The U.S. visits of Queen Marie of Rumania and British Prime Minister Ramsay MacDonald in the '20s were isolated phenomena that made headlines for weeks and were discussed for months. Since World War II, the parade of official visitors has increased a thousandfold. In the past year over 20 top VIPs, from President Syngman Rhee of Korea to Chancellor Konrad Adenauer of West Germany, have beaten a path to Washington, sometimes almost colliding on Simmons' red carpet. Every visit requires about four months of planning by the Office of Protocol, and the U.S. Treasury pays all the travel expenses while the VIPs are in Washington or New York.

Simmons is admirably equipped for his job. He has a strong right hand, a confluence of tongues (French, Spanish, German and Portuguese), and an iron constitution that has withstood thousands of canapes, cocktails, toasts and dinners. He has a solid background of diplomatic service reaching back 38 years: in Vienna, Paris, Mexico City, Riga, Rio de Janeiro, Cologne and Ottawa. He was U.S. Ambassador to Ecuador and El Salvador, was assigned to the State Department's Office of Protocol in 1950. Last week he looked in ruddy good health and ready for the continuing avalanche of visiting dignitaries. "I don't know why they come," sighed one of his 19 staffers. "It's just conditions in the world, I guess."

*E.g., obtaining special customs clearance for the annual planeload of fresh caviar and other delicacies for the Soviet embassy's Great October Revolution reception each Nov. 7.

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