Fortunately we had a large garden in fairly good condition by this time, so I immediately went to work and had it decorated with long lines and festoons of Japanese lanterns; I ordered a large refreshment tent put up in the middle of the wide lawn; then I sat down and prayed for fair weather. It was the rainy season and I knew that only a specially importuned Providence could keep the afternoon of the Fourth of July clear.
The inauguration of the first American Governor was an occasion of great dignity and interest. The ceremony took place on a platform erected at one end of a large square in the Walled City which is enclosed on one side by the Ayuntamiento, or Insular Capitol, and on another by the Cathedral. The foundations of the Inaugural stand were of historic interest in that they were originally intended to support a magnificent residence for Spanish Governors-General and were on the site of the ancient gubernatorial mansion which was destroyed by an earthquake in 1863. The rebuilding had never progressed beyond the laying of the massive granite base, and this still stands as a mute reminder to progressive Americans of the dilatory and otherwise questionable methods which once obtained in the Philippine government.
The Cathedral Plaza—since renamed Plaza McKinley—presented a memorable scene that Fourth of July morning. The architectural grace and time-mellowed colours of the old Spanish buildings blended with the rich luxuriance of many-hued tropic plants and the green of spreading acacias. American flags covered the canopied platforms and floated from every possible point of vantage. Americans and Filipinos, all in gala attire, were pressed close together in the spectators’ stands which extended on either side of the central pavilion; the plaza below was thronged with Filipinos of every rank and condition, in all manner of bright jusis and calicoes; while above the crowd towered many American soldiers and sailors in spic-and-span khaki or white duck.
The programme was much like other programmes. General MacArthur and his staff occupied the centre of the platform. A well trained and finely conducted Filipino band played several numbers; there was a prayer and an invocation; then my husband, looking larger even than his natural size in his crisp white linen suit, stepped to the front of the platform and stood gravely looking down upon the stocky little Chief Justice of the Archipelago, Señor Arellano, who administered the oath of office. Afterward Mr. Taft and Mr. Fergusson stood together and delivered, in English and Spanish, paragraph by paragraph in translation, the Inaugural address.
I think only one unfortunate incident occurred to mar the complete harmony of the occasion, and that was furnished by a United States Congressman of the Military Committee of the House, who was visiting Manila at the time.
Tickets of admission to the central pavilion had been sent to him, but he had forgotten to bring them with him. However, when he arrived at the plaza he started, with several ladies who were with him, to mount the steps of the Inaugural platform on which no ladies were allowed. He was stopped, naturally, and a guard offered to conduct his guests to seats on a side pavilion, telling him at the time that the central stand had been reserved for government officials and representatives, among whom he, of course, was included. This separate seating of the ladies seemed to annoy him for some reason, and he announced his intention of remaining with his party. He was then shown to the best available seats and the incident seemed to be closed. But he was by no means satisfied with his position, especially when he found that the wives of some of the Commissioners had seats in front of him. I think the heat must have been affecting him for he called the Naval Lieutenant, who was in charge as usher, and made audible protest against “those wives of clerks” being put before him and his wife. The young naval officer was polite, but quite firm in his refusal to take any steps to remedy matters.
“You don’t seem to know who I am!” he exclaimed, with manifest indignation.
“No, sir, I do not,” mildly replied the Lieutenant.
“Well,” said the angry man, “I’m a member of the Military Committee of the House of Representatives. I helped to make this Army out here and I’ve come out to see what kind of work I did. I don’t like it, and I’m going home and unmake it. This treatment of me here is of a piece with the treatment I’ve received ever since I’ve been in these islands.”
This didn’t sound quite fair. He had been treated with marked courtesy by everybody and had accepted rather lavish hospitality from both Army officers and civil officials. In fact, he had received every possible attention in a most unusually hospitable community. The young Lieutenant bristled up and said:
“Sorry, sir, but I’m obeying orders; and I’d just like to tell you that I consider your remarks exceedingly impolite.”
Upon which the gentleman from Washington left the pavilion and went down to
