State of the Dinner

The White House victual ritual

"T T'S Americana," said Saturday Night Lifer Joe Piscopo, wearing a black bow tie that looked rather too tight, and a bemused expression that looked rather too polished, at a recent White House state dinner in honor of King Fahd of Saudi Arabia. "It's Ronald Reagan."

This display of White House Americana occurs almost every month. The ostensible purpose is to celebrate the visit of a foreign head of state. The practical result is to celebrate all that is Ronald Reagan.

Take the guest list of one hundred or so. The usual strategy is to include: two to five aging or aged movie or TV stars, one to three members of key minority groups, one "artiste," one academic, and a whole lot of very wealthy, very devoted political supporters.

Each time, there is at least one guest who doesn't quite seem an obvious resident of Reagan's America. Someone in the White House thought they would be interesting, Social Secretary Gahl Hodges always says to the queries of the press. Piscopo was one of the more surprising, but he did manage to stay within the bounds of tact by avoiding his Frank Sinatra imitation. Novelist Renata Adler spent her visit looking slightly befuddled by her surroundings and protesting vehemently when her escort, Richard Avedon, pressed her to dance. Trumpeter Wynton Marsalis stood by a marble column and talked to his girlfriend.

These guests usually manage to behave themselves, although sometimes something slips. Julia Child had serious reservations about the tenderloin of veal en croute served French president Francois Mitterrand last year. "I thought the salmon was delicious," she said, "and there was a very good sauce, but I don't think the main course was a success, somehow." The White House did not appreciate seeing the critique in the next day's paper.

The less familiar visitors are subjected to the inevitable awkward moment early in the evening when their names are announced by a nice young man in a uniform to the claque of reporters and photographers waiting to grill the more glamorous or infamous diners.

Perhaps because they are kept behind a velvet rope by icysmiled women from Nancy Reagan's office, the reporters are all usually a little cranky and have no interest in wasting their time with someone whose face doesn't glisten with fame. When Joan Collins or Attorney General Edwin Meese walks by, the reporters press against the rope, calling and cajoling to lure the victim close enough for a question. But when poor Mr. and Mrs. Chief Executive Officer from Texas appear—nothing. The sequined and tuxedoswathed couple pauses, looks expectantly at the pack, thinking perhaps that they're just busy now and will be eager to speak to them when Ricardo Montalban gets out of the way. Then, slowly, understanding dawns, the welcoming smiles fade, and they tread on, the cameras still and reporters silent.

There is, of course, a carefully detailed schedule for all of this. The in-house plan prepared for the dinner in honor of the Duke and Duchess of Luxembourg decreed that the Reagans would greet the first guests at 7:17, leave the living quarters at 7:29, arrive at the North Portico at 7:30 to greet the duke and duchess, and appear with them on the Grand Staircase for a photograph at 7:47.

But who among those caught up in the scene is interested in such things, the mere buttressing behind the illusion? Certainly not Mitterrand. "For a few hours," he said in his toast last year, "we perhaps have been able to shed the mantle, the somewhat heavy mantle, of protocol and official ties and relations, which we will, of course, resume very seriously tomorrow.'' Then, right on schedule, Mitterrand and the rest moved on to the part of the evening known as "mix and mingle," when the guests get to mix and mingle with the president, the president gets to mix and mingle with old friends like Charlton Heston and Rock Hudson, and the press, shadowed by the icy-smiled women, attempts to mix and mingle with the Reagans.

Then it's time for the fun.

Frank Sinatra helps to book the White House. On the bill recently have been Days of Our Lives star Gloria Loring, Andy Williams, and Julio Iglesias for after-dinner entertainment in the East Room.

"Have you ever heard him before?" an entranced Galanos whispered as Iglesias leaned toward Nancy Reagan and emoted "To All the Girls I've Loved Before."

"He's terrific,'' Galanos said, and started to hum along.

Elizabeth Kastor