This Day In Norwood History-January 9, 1929-Frank G. Allen Jr faces cameramen with father and mother on day he is two months old.



NORWOOD. Jan 9 – “What did I tell you?” chortled Frank Gilman Allen Jr, son of Gov and Mrs Allen this morning, speaking to the Globe, face to face, instead of broadcasting as he did two days ago when he lamented that his protectors, defenders, parents and nurse deemed him too young to pose for pictures.

“I told you I was learning how to manage my family, everybody but the nurse, and here I am, big as life and one inch longer than the last report. Officially I’m having my first picture taken because I’m two months old today and can stand the hubbub without making a cry-baby out of myself.

“Well, of course I shoudn’t crow about it, but you know me. I set up a howl to let you see I look like myself. AND the Governor, good looking as he is. I howled until—here I am.

“After hours of conference yesterday they made the appointment for 9:30 this morning. Then I fooled them. Not wishing to be considered vain—I knew the cameramen would be here hotfoot anyway—I slept right up to the minute of the appointment, although men with cameras from all the papers in Boston were arriving from 8:45 on.

“Perhaps I was a bit jealous, I knew they weren’t afraid of missing me—I’m helpless about getting around yet—they were afraid they’d miss the Governor.

“I demonstrated carefully the Governor has to wait my pleasure. He may be the Governor, but I’m his baby boy and I just made him walk in and out of my room this morning, following the nurse and my mother, all waiting for me to wake up.

Wears Petticoats

“I may have had one eye open. I don’t wish to be quoted positively, but they didn’t know it, and I had no intention of their knowing it until the Governor was simply nerve-worn about being late at the old State House.

“The way he talks about that place makes me curious. I’m going to see about that pretty soon; he goes there too much. Right now I sleep days, but I’ll want him around here soon to play with me.

“Do you know what they did when I decided to be awake? They put dresses on me. O, I’ve had to wear them right along, but today I was to make my first appearance before a group of men, my first public appearance you might say.

“It sounds well. That’s what I was thinking of. It might not sound so well if everybody knew the Governor’s son wears petticoats.

“I thought of it being funny when the headlights were on me. You see every photographer had special lights because I don’t go outdoors unless I’m bundled up to the tip of my nose, and the men wanted my whole face, to show my likeness to the Governor.

“No sooner had my nurse, Alexander -her first name is Isabelle—carried me down the stairway to the reception hall than the great question was who would hold me. There was my mother—my, she looked lovely; I was proud of her in a new dress with a greenish-yellow watchmaculllt yoke trimming—and my father, tall and stately, standing around wondering what I was going to do with them.

“Somebody suggested my mother hold me and my father thought that was fine; he didn’t want to be nursemaid. I noticed the nurse maid business was forgotten by his excellency the minute somebody suggested it was his turn to hold me.

Wanted the right

“His baby talk was terrible. I’ve never found any fault with it before, I guess the presence of others cramped his style.

“As long as we were before the public I had to be a good son to him and I pretended to like whatever he said. He straightened out my skirts, held up one bootie, patted my yellow hair and watched my blue eyes to see if they blinked when the cameras were clicking.

“He passed around cigars and dragged out a box of chocolate molasses chips from under the table for a woman who listened to the announcement of my morning’s weight, eleven six. just as if it were gospel. She says the public is interested.

“I heard a remark my father made that I wasn’t supposed to hear. He remarked about my broadcast a couple of days ago and laughed. Guess what he said. He declared he is going to let me write all his speeches. There now, am I a politician or am I not?

“My mother wanted me to hear the remark she made. The photographers were thanking her for the pictures (they might have thanked me) and they said that I seemed to have a nice disposition.

“ ‘Yes, he resembles me,’ said my mother, and she smiled as if it were expected that she would. The men put cut the lights, gathered their camera stilts under their arms, and my mother saw them out. My father had gone off in a great hurry, worrying about that State House. I wonder what kind of a hit I made; I’m a little anxious.”

The autos sped out of the circular driveway in front of the Allen homestead, the photographers lighted their cigars and puffed into Boston.

“Say,” said one, “I was surprised the way the baby acted, I thought he’d stand that light about five minutes.”

“Five minutes!” exclaimed the veteran of the crowd. “I gave him a second, the second he laid his eyes on it.”

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