Commenting on George VI and Queen Elizabeth's visit to the 1939 New York World's Fair, the king's official biographer, John Wheeler-Bennett noted, "From the moment of their arrival their destinies (were) in the hands of those vociferous showmen, the Mayor of New York, Mr. Fiorello LaGuardia, and Mr. Grover Whalen, President of the World's Fair."

And now, a look at those "vociferous showmen" who helped make "The World of Tomorrow" THE enjoyable diversion in the warm-up to World War II.

Grover A. Whalen

A major magazine commentator noted: "The 'theme' of the big show will be not a jazz ditty by Gershwin or a 'lady lifting a veil' (a reference to the Mithrana statue on the Administration Building's exterior) but the man sitting in the flag-decked office at the end of the long corridor – Grover A. Whalen himself." Certainly most pundits could not find enough descriptive words of praise for the president of the New York World's Fair in 1939.

News accounts referred to him as "the busiest man in the world, including rulers of other nations," "the right man for the right job" and "a greater showman than Barnum," who possessed "just the kind of showmanship such an enterprise requires."

Grover Whalen lived a charmed and charming life. Even his birth seemed auspicious.

Grover Aloysius Whalen arrived on July 2, 1885, which coincided with the White House wedding of President Grover Cleveland and Frances Folsom. His parents christened him after the president and a favorite saint.

Whalen married Anna Dolores Kelly, who was said to be attracted to him first by his habit of wearing a white carnation in his lapel. Soon afterwards he began his successfully mobile political career.

Whalen supported John F. Hylan's bid for mayor in 1918. Upon his election, Hylan appointed Whalen Commissioner of Plant and Structures. Through the ensuing two administrations the carnation – wearing sophisticate held seven major posts, including Police Commissioner under the rapscallion Jimmy Walker.

When not holding a political appointment, Whalen worked for Rodman Wanamaker, eventually earning a $100,000 a year salary as the Wanamaker stores' manager.

Whalen also served as the de facto head of the Mayor's Committee of Welcome to Distinguished Guests. Often referred to as "Mr. New York," Whalen extended the Big Apple's greetings to Gen. John J. Pershing, France's Marshall Ferdinand Foch and Georges Clemenceau, Britain's David Lloy-George, Gertrude Ederle and Edward, the Prince of Wales, and America's Charles Lindbergh.

Known for his work ethic and with such extensive credentials and deep political and social ties, the New York World's Fair Corporation could find no better candidate for its presidency. The new president understood his assignment perfectly.

"If the end product was to be pleasure and astonishment and entertainment for millions of people, it was still the biggest promoting scheme ever undertaken for the city." When Great Britain and France hesitated over participating, Whalen privately negotiated a $4,000,000 pavilion from the U.S.S.R. and the two super powers fell in line.

Norman Bel Geddes, the designer of many of the fair's most innovative industrial pavilions, praised the president: "In organizing the fair and bringing it to completion on time he achieved something I doubt few men could accomplish."

Few doubted Grover Whalen's dedication and everyone relished his sartorial sense.

The same firms produced the urbane Mr. Whalen's attire for over twenty years. He preferred double-cuffed plain white or medium blue shirts. When running low, his valet Juan, stopped by the haberdashery to order a dozen of each. Normally Whalen preferred dark blue or black suits but for the fair often chose light grey or even white. For daytime, his suits were of eight or nine-ounce worsted and for evening wear the same, but in minute herringbone.

The same firms produced the urbane Mr. Whalen's attire for over twenty years. He preferred double-cuffed plain white or medium blue shirts. When running low, his valet Juan, stopped by the haberdashery to order a dozen of each. Normally Whalen preferred dark blue or black suits but for the fair often chose light grey or even white. For daytime, his suits were of eight or nine-ounce worsted and for evening wear the same, but in minute herringbone.

The dapper Mr. Whalen initially assumed a business residence in the Empire State Building until workers completed the Administration Building on the fairgrounds. When permanently ensconced in his new oval office, the building's calendars reminded his staff "Time Tears On." And so did Grover Whalen.

Its sturdy soul
Wins approbations:
He goes to all
Those dedications.

H. J. Phillips

Once the fair opened, the seemingly tireless president appeared to be everywhere at once. Often working sixteen to eighteen hours a day, Whalen occasionally returned to the flowered chintz couch in his office for a few minutes respite before returning to his duties. New York University recognized Whalen for his zealous efforts with the honorary degree of Doctor of Perispheres or Master of Trylons.

In fact, Grover Whalen, normally decked out in formal wear and a silk top hat, was so consumed by pavilion dedications and welcoming celebrities of every make and manner, he never actually visited the fairgrounds as a "tourist" until June 23. Taking a brief break from his official duties, Whalen passed unnoticed in an atypical grey suit, blue-striped shirt and polka dot tie. The busy president even took a few moments off to eat a hot dog and share its mustard with another patron.

While no one ever doubted Whalen's fervor for his job, it did carry a few perks. When traveling through the fairgrounds, the president had at his disposal a Cadillac or a $4,000 custom-built Chrysler. Occasionally, however, when the crowds swelled blocking the roadways, one of twelve blue bicycles available to the Administration Building's employees might be used.

Throughout the 1939 season, Whalen delivered over 150 prepared addresses. Daniel R. Matie, former Columbia University journalism professor, ghost wrote most for the too- busy president. Whalen seldom had time to pre-read Matie's output. The author discovered Whalen often found certain words difficult to pronounce "on the run" so carefully chose every speech's verbiage, with one notable exception pavilion. For some unknown reason, the president pronounced this ever-present word "PERV - ilion."

Always aware of the president's perchance to gain weight, the Administration Building's chef prepared a typical dinner of grapefruit, steak, green peas, a salad, raw apple and coffee. But, remarkably, one commentator noted Whalen's pre-fair, ever-present gardenia had been missing from his button hole for months.

The most telling perk Whalen enjoyed was a personal barber and makeup artist. Always aware of his appearance before the public, Whalen hired the makeup artist to prepare his face and eyes for proper media coverage. A wondrous tale circulated about this particular eccentricity.

Upon their demise, Grover Whalen and Franklin Roosevelt found each other in Heaven. The two decided to form a greeting committee but Whalen decided against joining when he discovered no news photographers would be present.