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One leap from the south entrance of the capitol (if he doesn’t mind our
accelerating his step in order to capture the attention of the audience)
and Gov. Dwight Griswold, in gray suit and fedora, plus black overcoat
the last few days, is home. Should he turn on the steps he might read
over the capitol entrance one of Dr. Alexander’s carefully considered
truths—Political society exists for the sake of noble living.
The house in which Governor Griswold lives, successor to one populist,
five democratic and seven republican gubernatorial residents, suggests
noble living. It is generously proportioned, deep bosomed, its wide
galleries edged with delicately wrought spindles. Memories jostle each
other pleasantly in the big house, which is acclimated to sudden
changes.
One republican governor and his wife, Mr. and Mrs. Sam McKelvie,
preferred to live in their home at 140 So. 26th, where indefatigable
Mrs. McKelvie threw off lightly, the actual work of caring for 21 rooms,
with oil painting and associate editorship of a magazine as pastimes.
For the rest, since 1900—before that governors had to look for places to
live, too—each governor’s retinue has moved in and fitted itself into
its surroundings in its individual way. Mr. Griswold, for instance, hung
his grandfather’s sword—its owner fell in ’61—in the front hall and his
collection of autographed photographs in the back parlor. Mrs. Griswold
marshaled treasured family antiques into the guest room against a
background of George Washington-Mount Vernon wallpaper.
Every governor’s wife handles with pleased fingers the beautiful silver
service with the aid of which light refreshments were once dispensed on
the battleship Nebraska. During legislative sessions especially, the
governor’s home is opened for many social gatherings.