That came out in testimony and Congressman Mann fathered the law making interstate transportation a penitentiary offense. Too many jokes about crossing state lines have gone into the legend since then for anyone not to understand the possible consequences of taking ’em in one state and making ’em in another. But what has been very sparsely advertised is a phrase in the Mann Act which states, “or on federal territory.” Washington is federal territory.
So, if you meet one in the lobby and take her up in the elevator, you’re a candidate for Atlanta.
This clause has been enforced with ultimate results. But for many years, by unwritten policy, the Department of Justice stopped paying attention to private, non-commercial infractions. But in no way has the letter been ameliorated, and at any time this statute could be applied, as the income tax evasion law was used to convict murderous gangsters, if an Attorney General so instructs. It can be used without even the technical provisions required to substantiate an attempted rape. The language states, “for immoral purposes.” Such purposes need not be successful. There is a mistaken notion that paying a female’s fare has something to do with it. It has not, except as evidence of the intent, which is the res gestae.
Let it not be assumed that this is a major deterrent for the Washington wolf, before whom is spread a field alabaster with white lambs generously interlarded with black sheep. Yet the fine art of subtle, sophisticated flirtation, with skill, poise and aplomb, which has illuminated the finest works of the masters through the ages in every form of expression, seems extinct here.
Those in residence are boors; the transients are in a hurry; and the distaff defense being negligible, no true swordsman deigns to fence when he can hit a broad on the head with the handle.
Chief among Washington ladies’ men is handsome Warren Magnuson, bachelor Senator from the state of Washington, where some of his I.W.W. constituents would probably kick over the traces if they saw the highfalutin’ fillies he runs with in Washington. The Senator is a man among men, with the reputation of seldom wooing one girl at a time. He often entertains several in one evening in his Shoreham apartment. We know. They talk.
Not all wolves are single. We will not divulge names, or tell how they cover up. Your imagination will picture how easy it is in a town where so many are seeking favors, to get a stooge to come along as the cutie’s alleged “date,” while the principal apparently came along only for the ride.
Not all wolves, of course, are Senators or such with official immunity.
A simple way to get acquainted is to watch the papers for announcements of State Society dances. Most lonesome G-gals belong to these societies, composed of expatriates from their home states. Once every week, throughout the year, one of these groups throws a party or a dance. Admission is open to all. The Officers’ Service Club dances are swell, too.
At this writing there are no public ballrooms of the type of Roseland in New York or the Aragon in Chicago, not because they’re illegal, but because they have been unprofitable. In the summer this lack is filled by moonlight cruises of the Wilson Steamship Line on the river. The boats leave from the 7th Street wharf nightly, at 8:30, and the charge, including dancing, is one buck. Plenty of unattached women go.