7—
From Major to Senator

On December 1, 1943, First Lieutenant Bill Knowland arrived in Washington, D.C., on his way to the School of Military Government at the University of Virginia in Charlottesville. There he paid respects to Senators Robert Taft of Ohio and Hiram Johnson of California. Both would play an important role in his future. "Johnson," he wrote to his wife on December 1, "is very feeble and for the first time looks like a very, very old man with hands trembling, etc. We had a very nice chat, and he seemed very pleased to see me."

On December 2 Knowland was promoted to captain and soon he began attending classes. He was being schooled in army history in preparation for a European assignment. While his classmates were writing home about personal events, Knowland was writing to Helen about his broader vision of the war and his convictions about the virtues of the American way of life. On January 19, 1944, he wrote:

Our way of life is a beacon light to a war torn world. In the "dark ages" of this century that are to come we must keep it burning brightly. By this I do not mean to force our ways (economic, political or social) on the other nations. This would be unwise and impossible.

Rather by making our free institutions work and by showing through precept and example that Catholic, Protestant and Jew, white, brown and black, labor and capital, rural and urban, Republicans and Democrats (as well as other minority groups) can work together for the improvement of our common weal, we will furnish hope and courage to those elsewhere who strive to bring order and tolerance to a disorderly and bigoted world.

Yet with all this we have the will to fight and die to guard that heritage. We are not the lazy and decadent people that Hider, Mussolini [or] Tojo tries to make out.

At the same time we must be on guard against those who would squander our resources in attempting to "buy our way into the hearts of other peoples." My own belief is that such a policy will make international suckers of us. They will take our money and question our sanity, as well they might. [Years later he would bitterly oppose giving U.S. dollars to Communist countries.]

I have great fear that we will end up by having our people pay the war costs that in the normal course of events the defeated enemy would be called on to pay. Our people will of necessity carry a great debt to win the war and destroy the enemy in the process. If, then, there is added to this an international WPA at American expense we will be saddled with a double debt that may destroy our economy and open the door for political and social disorders that will put Americans to a greater test than they have yet to experience.

To me the safety of our political system is dependent upon the soundness of our economy. Twelve million unemployed could be fertile ground in which demagogues could work and perhaps pull down about the ears of 123 million the vast structure that has carried our people to great heights.

We must strive as a matter of policy to encourage home and farm ownership by our people. We must advance the process of education to the distant out of the way corners of our country. A wide ownership in our large and small corporations must be accelerated. We must prevent a Marxian cleavage between workers and capitalists through savings accounts, ownership of home, insurance, bonds and personal goods. This necessitates the payment of not only living wages but saving wages as well.

At the same time the common sense of Benjamin Franklin must once again become popular. Thrift and a desire to build for the future should be made a part of our life. Many who are making high war industry salaries are buying bonds and saving for the inevitable "rainy day." However, many others are not and they are so to speak on an economic "champagne binge" that will leave them down and out when the slack period comes. Out of this self same group will come leaders of the "world owes me a living" philosophy. They will then want to share the wealth with those who have been frugal and farsighted.

With it all we must encourage forthrightness in public life. Legislators and administrators must be willing to stand up and be counted. How else will we ever know if people of common sense or the "lunatic fringe" is in control.

While the pendulum will swing back and forth in political campaigns we need not fear for the Republic as long as the integrity of our election machinery is maintained. In the long run, given courageous leadership, the people will find the right solutions. It is only when through apathy or cow-

ardice the press and those who should know better stand aside until too late that the Hitlers are able to fasten their systems upon a great people.

Knowland was writing more than a letter to a wife; it was as if he was preparing for his political campaigns and speeches on the U.S. Senate floor.

As Knowland reflected on the international war overseas, Helen expressed concerns about some family battles closer to home. She was struggling to meet the needs of her family while working as an assistant to her demanding father-in-law. From virtually the day her husband went into the army, Helen had moved into his office, taking over many of his duties, and she now felt increasing anxiety. Helen complained to her father- and mother-in-law that she had little social life. Although she attended political affairs because her husband expected her to, she wished she could instead "turn what little extra time I have in other directions which would give me more relaxation and personal pleasure." She did not believe her father-in-law understood all that was involved in working full-time and at the same time meeting the needs of her home and her children. Even with "a laundress to come in and iron," she explained, "in order for her to get it done . . . I have to wash much of it in advance myself, get it starched and dampened so that she is ready to go with no time wasted upon arrival." What with housework, shopping, and caring for the children's illnesses, she felt it was unjust that she was criticized for leaving early each day. Specifically, she said, "You mention that my leaving at varied hours in the afternoon is bad for the morale of the girl at the desk and, I supposed you meant, others. I would say that depends entirely upon the position which I am holding. If I am in the same category as the girl at the desk or Miss White, then it is, I suppose, true. But if I am representing Billy, then certainly it could not be so, for neither Billy nor Russell ever spent such regular hours here as I am and have been spending."

Much more disturbing to Helen than the disagreement over flexible work hours was the ongoing conflict with Mamoo. In a letter to her husband, Helen reported repeated run-ins with her mother-in-law: "She has attacked me daily, verbally, made terrible threats, called me everything under the sun, the worst and repeatedly, alone and before people." At one point, she said, Mamoo took a knife to the furniture and venetian blinds in J.R.'s office and threw the phone on the floor, yelling at the top of her lungs. Mamoo told Helen not to tell her husband what she had done to J.R.'s office, but Helen refused to make a

promise. "She shook her fist at me and said I'd regret it the rest of my life if I told, that 'she'd get me,' that in three days I'd 'no longer have that pretty face,' etc. . . . She's unbalanced, dangerous. If she comes to this house and tries to get me alone, I'm going to call for police protection."

Rages at the office were commonplace. Once, Helen said, Mamoo drew blood when she struck J.R., and she attacked the paper's managing editor, Leo Levy, and others on the staff. Levy threatened to quit if Mamoo remained at the paper. "I have received her blows in silence for months on end, said nothing, and slowly I have come to the conclusion which I am now acting upon. I am sure I am right in this. . . . Dad is in such a state that he cannot reason wisely from a broad point of view. All he sees is the moment, it has passed before and will pass again. But he is wrong there, it does not pass." She was also worried about the effect the attacks would have on the children. "All three of them have seen their mother attacked and accused, all three have been devastated with grief and tears and it shall never happen again. God bless you, darling, we're both at war now, aren't we?"

On February 21, 1944, Knowland left New York on the French liner Pasteur , reaching England eight days later. He said the troops made the trip without a convoy or any escort vessels. "Theory was we could outrun any submarine," he wrote his father. "Good theory except that one night we had engine trouble and had to wallow standing still for several hours which was not so good." He arrived in Liverpool, and there boarded a train to Shrivenham, where he stayed until April at the American School Center for Military Government. Two days after his arrival, he found time to rent a bicycle and pedal around the countryside. "It was a grand day and I enjoyed it very much."

During his brief assignment in Shrivenham, he received orders appointing him chief of the historical section of the Forward Echelon Communications zone in London. He was greeted in London by German bombings that went on daily for several months. Several bombs came very close; one landed within a half a block of his flat, knocking out many of the building's windows. During his new assignment, he roomed with Dudley Frost, who became a close friend. Later, helped by the influence of the Knowlands, Frost would become executive director of the Port of Oakland.

In one of the oddities of war and danger, things that might be considered trivial in normal times became extremely meaningful. Knowland developed a craving for marshmallows. On July 3, Knowland wrote a short letter to his wife with one plea: "Please send me a large box of marshmallows. They are not available here and would be much appreciated. Find out the largest package you can send within the weight limit." He also asked for dental floss. "It will be your fault if I have to have a lot of fillings put in when I return merely for the lack of this request!" His concerns about his teeth notwithstanding, he made repeated pleas for marshmallows during his remaining tour in Europe. There never seemed to be enough of them and they always were too slow in coming.

On July 13, Knowland's group left England at Southampton and crossed the English Channel. It landed at Utah Beach on the Normandy peninsula the next day, just five weeks after D-Day. During the fall Knowland moved with units throughout Europe, living in tents and often sleeping on the ground during the rainy season. This man of wealth and privilege found himself without a wash basin; instead, he had to use his steel helmet for bathing, shaving, and washing socks and underwear. Sometimes he wrote letters to Helen by kerosene lamplight. But he said he was not really bothered by any of this:

It is interesting to note how quickly a new tent can become "home." You move into one that has just been put up, clear out (if there is any) any evidence that the field had been a pasture for sheep, horses or cows, put up your army cot, spread out your bed roll, set up your change (if you are lucky enough to have one), put down a piece of cardboard as a mat, put down a couple of boards on which to place your Valpack and Duffle Bag. Presto! Just like that, it's home and you look forward to getting back to it at night. You of course add some additional luxuries such as a wooden box as a dresser and perhaps a wash-stand out back in which to put your steel helmet so it won't tip over when filled with water.

Eventually he was able to rent a 9-by-13-foot attic room of a small fourth-rate hotel outside of Paris, where there was no heat and there were five flights of stairs to climb. "Rather run down place, but the bed is soft," he noted. "Almost getting to like the joint!" he cheerfully added later.

But Knowland was not always in good spirits. On one of his lower days, he wrote to Helen about his unhappiness at Franklin D. Roosevelt's reelection and his general wartime weariness. He also was feeling hurt that his children hadn't written to him. "It does seem to me that

if I had a father overseas I could manage the time to write at least once a week," he complained. "I doubt if any of them . . . averaged once every two months! . . . Makes me feel that I have fallen down somewhere along the line, as perhaps I have." He then added, "Probably should have let this day pass without writing. However, daily letter writing is now a habit and furthermore you are far too smart a girl to be fooled into thinking that things look bright all the time."

On December 8, Knowland was ordered to Paris with the Fifteenth Army. There he was housed in an attic billet on the seventh floor, again with no elevator. He noted that "you get your hot bath Sunday morning or not at all." He enjoyed Paris life, taking in the Folies-Bergère, Napoleon's tomb, the Arc d'Triomphe, and the opera Faust . He came down with a bad cold, however, and spent two weeks, including Christmas and New Year's, in a Red Cross army hospital with an ear infection.

From his hospital bed he relived his eighteen years of married life. He specifically remembered the night he took back his fraternity pin, although he could not remember the exact reason. "Perhaps," he wrote Helen, "[it was] just for the pleasure of giving it to you again. . . . That I love you with all my heart you must know. More than anything else I long to be with you and hold you in my arms and tell you all that is waiting to be told. I need the soft touch of your hands, the warmth of your lips, the companionship of your intellect and the tranquillity that only comes to this restless—now more than ever—husband of yours when we are together." He enclosed a portion of a poem written by a Russian soldier to his sweetheart printed in the Red Star , a Soviet army newspaper:

Await me and I shall return!
But you must await me with your whole heart!
Await me when the yellow rain makes you sad.
Await me when the snow is falling.
Await me when the heat is stifling.
Await me when those who wait for others have ceased to wait.
Await me and I shall return and cheat Death.

While in the hospital, Knowland also thought about the future of world politics. "I want to see a better world," he wrote Helen. "I know that misery in Europe leads to war and twice in my generation our nation has become involved. But in taking on our responsibilities and in lending a helping hand we should not weaken ourselves. Once we allow ourselves to grow soft there will be fangs ready to sink themselves into the throat of Uncle Sam. Never forget it." They were words he would come to live by.

On January 8, 1945, finally out of the hospital, Knowland left Paris for Suippes, France, where the Fifteenth Army was located. The troops then moved to Dinant, Belgium; in April, they were sent to Germany. His work basically was that of a historian, gathering records and preparing for the occupation forces to come when the war ended. Shortly after arriving in Germany, he received word that he had been promoted to major. He was based for a month in a small town near the Rhine River that had suffered little damage, in contrast to the extensive bombing damage he had seen farther north. Cologne, once a city of 700,000 people, now only had 110,000 living among its ruins. Many of the fleeing Cologne residents were roaming Europe looking for shelter. Knowland described that city to his father: "Factories, hotels, public buildings, homes and stores are rubble or empty shells. At night, with the curfew, the streets are empty and it is like driving through a graveyard with nothing but broken headstones as landmarks. . . . Yes, the German people are going to pay a heavy price for the 'luxury' of 12 years of Hitler and his gang."

Some of Knowland's thoughts about politics at this time can be gleaned from his letters to his wife. He pointed out that "few people yet realize what a great void has been created by the destruction of Germany as a great economic and political factor in the world. Never before in history has a modern industrial nation had its back broken in such a manner." Although he greatly miscalculated Russia's intentions, stating, "I do not believe Russia is bent on the military conquest of the other European states," he was correct in insisting that the United States had "come of age." He underlined the statesmanship needed "to steer the course in the uncharted seas of the future. . . . It will not be a perfect world or a just world for a long time to come. Americans will be respected, feared, loved and despised in turn by various nations. . . . Just think of what could be done, given a century free from war and strife, with all the intelligence and effort and just a fraction of the cost devoted to those things that go to make up a more perfect life."

Knowland retained a keen interest in U.S. political leadership. The Tribune was being airmailed to him every day, and although the editions arrived about two weeks after they were published, they kept him informed about events at home. He expressed satisfaction, for example, with President Truman's appointment of the Republican John Foster Dulles as an undersecretary of state. "Dulles is a very able man," Knowland told Helen. "I am sure his interests are in finding a way to avoid war, but he has his feet on the ground and realizes there are many pitfalls in the path of this idea." Later, as a senator, Knowland would deal

extensively with Dulles, who would become President Eisenhower's secretary of state.

In contrast, Knowland was not impressed with newly elected Congresswoman Claire Booth Luce. "She is an able woman, a quick wit and a facile tongue," Knowland wrote. "However, she is more apt to create a stir with a 'clever' speech that will amuse an audience rather than to lay out a sound policy upon which the future of the nation could be safely based." She was married to Henry Luce, and perhaps Knowland was still irritated by the interest Helen had shown in the publisher.

A glimpse into Knowland's character is provided by one of his roommates in Europe, Major Martin Hayden, who became the Washington correspondent for the Detroit News after the war. At one point Hayden and Knowland sat on a court-martial together. "We'd get back to quarters," Hayden said, "and I'd start talking about the day's court session, and he would shut me up. He said the regulations forbade discussion of a case outside the court. My roommate! He wouldn't even talk about the case with me, in our own room. It wasn't human nature, but it was Bill Knowland."^[1]

Hayden also related a story about the two men taking a walk around Bad Neuenahr, where they were stationed. The army had a rule against fraternizing with the Germans, but few heeded it. When Hayden threw candy bars and gum to the children, Knowland objected. But when the ban was ended, Knowland wrote his wife for gift packages, which he handed out to the children.

While Bill Knowland was observing the devastation in Germany, Helen was caught up in the frenetic activity of San Francisco in early 1945. The war was winding down, but much of the Pacific Fleet action was still funneled through the Bay Area. Market Street was a carnival of energy awash in uniforms of every branch of the allied services. From the Ferry Building up Market Street to Van Ness Avenue, a continuous stretch of "beer-and-a-shot" bars, movie houses, and arcades attracted the young servicemen. Yet just up the hill from Market, at Powell and Geary, the dignified Hotel St. Francis was a gathering place for the

diplomats, translators, volunteers, staff, and members of the press gathered for the conference that would establish the United Nations.

Helen Knowland, young, intelligent, and extremely attractive, found time to do volunteer work for this conference. At the St. Francis, she met Blair Moody, a reporter from the Detroit News , and she was quickly charmed by the witty and entertaining newsman. She liked music—he played the piano like a professional. She had grown up in newspapers and politics—so had he. She was lonely and bored by the deprivations of the wartime Bay Area—he was away from home in an exciting city. Bill Knowland was a world away in Europe. Moody, well-educated and athletic, told captivating stories of his life as a Detroit News reporter in Washington and as a war correspondent in Africa, Italy, Iran, and Britain.

Moody covered the convention by day and entertained Helen Knowland at night. By the time the United Nations Charter was signed on June 26, they were much more than friends. Moody returned to Washington after the United Nations conference ended, and although neither could have foreseen it, slightly more than two months later, Helen would follow.

Already at the start of 1945, speculation abounded on the West Coast about Bill Knowland's high political ambitions. San Francisco News columnist Arthur Caylor was predicting that even though Hiram Johnson had announced he would seek reelection, Knowland might enter the race. Caylor noted that "extremely powerful" Republicans were trying to get Johnson to change his mind so that Knowland could run for the office.^[2] But fate made their efforts unnecessary.

On August 6, 1945, Hiram Johnson died; he had served thirty years in the Senate. Immediately, speculation began on who would fill the remaining year and a half of his term. Among the names bandied about were Governor Earl Warren; former president Herbert Hoover; Lieutenant Governor Frederick Houser; Philip Bancroft, a Walnut Creek farmer who was the Republican Party's nominee against Johnson in 1938; and . . . William F. Knowland. One rumor had it that Warren would resign, and Houser would become governor and then appoint him. That had happened in neighboring Nevada, when Senator James G. Scrugham died and Governor E. P. Carville resigned so he could be appointed to the seat. Warren ruled that out because he had promised

to serve out his full term when elected. He had already turned down the vice presidential nomination in 1944 to keep that promise. Not much serious thought was given to Hoover, although he lobbied heavily for the job. Houser was seen as a likely candidate because he had been the Republican nominee for the Senate four years earlier. Houser had also said that he would run for Hiram Johnson's seat if the incumbent retired.^[3] Most experts, however, bet that Knowland would get the appointment based on "political obligations and personal friendship" with Warren.^[4] At least one report had it that Warren offered the Senate seat to Knowland's father, who had lost it to Johnson thirty years earlier, but J.R. declined because of his age.^[5] If so, it seems likely that Warren really believed J.R. would not accept and that he was acting out of courtesy.

Warren quickly ended the guessing by appointing Bill Knowland to the Senate on August 14, although his formal telegram announcing it didn't reach Paris for four days. It seems likely that J. R. Knowland conferred with Warren beforehand, although Bill Knowland always contended that he was surprised by the appointment. Warren probably had promised Bill Knowland the seat if an opportunity should arise. Certainly both Knowland and the governor had known that Johnson was elderly and growing feeble.

In a two-page press release announcing Knowland's appointment, Warren asserted that "it was not an easy task to choose between the many fine men who have been recommended by their friends." But, he said, he could only make one selection so he drew up a list of necessary criteria. Not surprisingly, they fit Bill Knowland perfectly. He had to be a World War II veteran, be young, know government intimately, have a record of public service that was without blemish, have supported the war effort, and have a record of service to his party. In addition to supporting the defense and war program, Warren said that the candidate also "must believe in world cooperation as our greatest opportunity for preserving the peace which has been won at such great sacrifice." Senator Johnson, of course, had been just the opposite—an outspoken isolationist throughout his career. In appointing Knowland, Warren noted that he had known him all of his adult life and he vouched for "his integrity, his ability and his fairness."

Warren denied ever discussing the possibility of the appointment with Knowland, but he was sure of its reception: "knowing his aptitude for and interest in the public service, I am certain that he will accept," he said in the news release. In his memoirs published in 1977, Warren

made no mention of the appointment of his lifelong friend. He did, however, acknowledge that the Tribune had thrown its weight to him in his bid to become district attorney. For all he owed the Knowlands, Warren didn't seem to feel he had to acknowledge that debt in words; his deeds spoke for him. With Knowland's appointment, Warren ensured that the Senate seat would remain Republican, as it had been since senators were first elected in 1914. The other Senate seat was in Republican hands half the time.

Just how Knowland heard of his appointment and how he responded are not entirely clear. As Hollis Alpert, a fellow officer in Paris, remembers it, he and Knowland were sharing a small office just outside Paris when an orderly brought in a telegram. Upon opening it, Knowland looked startled and with a trembling voice said, "I'm . . . very surprised. . . . Would you care to take a look at this?" he said, handing it to Alpert. The telegraph was from Warren informing Knowland of his appointment.

"Didn't you expect this?" Alpert asked.

"No, not at all," he said.

The next day while walking to their office, Alpert said he tried to talk to Knowland more seriously. "This may be a little early, but have you thought much about your policies, things you'll stand for?" Alpert asked.

"Yes, I've given it a bit of thought," Knowland replied. "Naturally, the main thing is to represent my constituents as best I know how. But I wouldn't want to commit myself at this point—not until I arrive in Washington and have a chance to assess the situation at firsthand." About the Russians, Knowland told Alpert, "If they can convince us of their sincerity, then I would say we might be able to work out our problems to our mutual satisfaction. On the other hand, there is the question of the atomic bomb. How will our unquestionable superiority there . . ."

Good God, Alpert thought, he's already talking like a senator.^[6]

Alpert's account, however, seems questionable, given Knowland's letters to his wife. In a letter written August 15, Knowland discussed the probable appointment, but cautioned her that she shouldn't get her hopes too high. The next day he wrote that there was no news of his appointment in the morning in the international edition of the Herald-Tribune , which was filled with news of Japan's acceptance of President Truman's terms of unconditional surrender, but that he found a small article in Stars and Stripes , the army newspaper. "I did not feel I could

ask for transportation home based on this article," he said. "Until I get some official word there is nothing much that can be done on this end." Two days later he received a cable from Warren that said, "You are appointed to Senate to replace Johnson. Hurry home." Only then did he arrange for a flight home, leaving Paris on August 21. He returned to the United States without seeing combat duty.

"Needless to say I am very pleased to have the opportunity of going to the Senate, the place where except for a three cornered fight you would have gone 31 years ago with qualifications far greater that I possess," he wrote to his father. "I can assure [you] I feel very humble at the moment with the responsibilities that go with the job in the face of the great problems that affect the nation and the world."

Knowland's father had already anticipated his son's response. He told the New York Times that Warren had "placed the utmost confidence in the boy and I'm sure he will feel duty-bound to accept."^[7] With Johnson's death, the long war that J. R. Knowland had waged against the old Progressive was at an end. And he had secured a final victory—his son's appointment to Johnson's seat, with the aid of J. R.'s protégé, Earl Warren.

The elder Knowland celebrated his son's appointment the day of its announcement with a small dinner party at his co-op apartment house on Lake Merritt. Among the guests were Dr. James E. McConnell, who had helped to establish Columbia State Park, and his wife, Geraldine. The elder Knowland announced to his dinner guests, "Now we are celebrating tonight." In walked the butler with a large silver tray. When the butler took the cover off, each of the guests—despite the war-induced food rationing—had a hamburger patty about four inches across.^[8]

Public reactions to the appointment were varied, ranging from best wishes from the Los Angeles Times (despite regrets that someone from Southern California had not been appointed) to claims that it was a payoff by Warren for the Knowlands' support over the years.

"Most Californians smiled," an article in Time said. "It had been understood that [J. R. Knowland's] boy . . . would get the next Senate vacancy. While Republicans complained that they had been given a slow horse for a fast race, Democrats prepared to fight Bill Knowland next year."^[9] But the Democrats would find out that Knowland was no plow horse.

Newsweek accused Warren of drawing up specifications for California's next senator to fit one description, that of Major Bill Knowland, 6,000 miles away in Paris. The correspondent noted that Warren had

passed over such contenders as Lieutenant Governor Houser, Mayor Roger D. Lapham of San Francisco, and Dr. Robert G. Sproul, president of the University of California. At thirty-seven, Newsweek noted, Knowland would be the youngest member of the Senate.^[10]

Biographer Leo Katcher described Warren's obviously political appointment of Knowland as "the only one of that type he ever made. But if he had not made it, he would have been [an] ingrate. Whatever J. R. Knowland might have felt about Warren's policies, he never publicly attacked Warren and William F. Knowland never stopped being personally loyal to Warren. Warren might well have believed that the war and time might cause Knowland to alter some of his views."^[11] In contrast, Knowland's friend McIntyre Faries disputed such criticism of the appointment. Noting Warren's and Knowland's close relationship, he insisted that the appointment "was not primarily" a repayment of a debt to J. R. Knowland. "Now it is true that he did owe a debt to Bill's father, but Warren recognized the potential ability and the abilities and the strength of Bill Knowland."^[12]

A more lighthearted reaction came from one of Knowland's commanding officers. He asked if Knowland would take a letter back to the War Department (later to become the Department of Defense). It said, "For the past several years you people in the War Department have sent over a number of Congressional representatives that we have taken care of. Herewith we are sending you your first replacement."^[13]

When Knowland arrived in Washington, he was still wearing his army uniform, his trousers tucked into his combat boots. He paid a call on Leslie Biffle, the Democratic secretary of the Senate, and then returned to California, where he called on Warren to thank him. He also received his honorable discharge from the army.

In California, he declared himself a "liberal Republican pointed toward national social programs and business stability and international cooperation based on a non-partisan approach to foreign policy." He said his army service would "strengthen my conviction that America can no more turn back to isolationism than a man can return to childhood. The atomic bomb may change the requirements for the size of a peacetime Army and Navy, but never should our defenses become as weak as they were in the years after World War I. We need a shotgun in the closet."^[14]

After a short stay on the West Coast, Bill returned to the East Coast

with Helen, who was delighted with her husband's Senate appointment. Before going back to Washington, he had to buy two new tailored suits. Suits that were tight-fitting before he went into the army were far too big now. They left their children in Oakland until they rented a house in Bethesda, Maryland. Bill wanted to be sworn in quickly to add to his seniority.

On September 6, the day that the Senate adjourned in memory of the late Senator Johnson's thirty years of service, Knowland was sworn in.