NEW YORK: Just Like Oshkosh

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The last time the American Legion hit Manhattan, one frayed theater manager relieved his feelings by writing a little jingle:

I love the Legion

In some other region.

Remembering the 1937 crop of traffic jams, the broken windows, the roistering funsters with water pistols and electric ticklers, most New Yorkers felt much the same way. But this week Manhattan dug in for another invasion of a round million Legionnaires and their friends, arriving from everywhere between Buenos Aires and Alaska for their 29th annual convention.*

City officials did their best to put up a brave front. After all, one explained, it was worth $10 million in trade to Manhattan merchants, restaurateurs and barkeeps. The thing to do was to provide "the same warmth and friendliness that they would find in a small place like Oshkosh, Wis."

Free Confetti. Welcome signs appeared in store windows. Fifth Avenue lampposts sprouted clusters of U.S. flags, flanked by the New York City crest and the Legion colors. The Salvation Army donated four donutmobiles. A gum company provided 60 million wrappers to be used as confetti.

Behind the scenes, other preparations were under way—just in case. To 17,227 New York City policemen and 150 policewomen went a special, 21-page order, canceling all vacations and days off. Hotel managers stripped for action. Lobbies were cleared of furniture, rugs and potted plants. The bottoms of paper laundry bags were clipped, to prevent their use as water bombs.

Big Cheers. As the Legion's advance guard arrived this week, Legionnaires seemed a little puzzled by all the todo. They talked mostly about business. They had 800 resolutions to consider, ranging from veterans' housing to immigration. In Madison Square Garden and the 71st Infantry Regiment Armory, they would listen to a whole flock of headline speakers: Fleet Admiral Chester Nimitz, the Air Forces' Tooey Spaatz, Defense Secretary James Forrestal, New York's Governor Tom Dewey, and Britain's Captain Sir Ian Fraser, president of the British Legion.

Old Legionnaire Harry Truman did not think he could make it this year. With him absent, Legionnaires planned their biggest cheers for Chief of Staff Ike Eisenhower. There were already rumors that Legion bigwigs would seize the occasion to get an Eisenhower-for-President bandwagon rolling, under Legion auspices. If they did, politicking might turn out to be almost as much fun as fanny-pinching.