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The congressman was still on his honeymoon when she arrived. Mrs. Young was mortified by what she found: windows open or broken, a fancy bed cover used as a rug under the dining room table, dozens of spent rum bottles, refuse and filth everywhere.

Zioncheck returned shortly to the United States by ship, arriving in New York City. A bevy of reporters was on hand to record his every move. They were hardly disappointed. A late-night sortie to the nightclubs of Harlem yielded more Zioncheck mania: He hurled a glass at one unsavory patron merely for looking at the Zioncheck party the wrong way. The victim suffered a deep gash in his hand. Marion and Rubye stumbled back to their hotel at dawn, but were up and greeting visitors by 10:00 A.M. Instead of breakfast, the bathrobed legislator fixed guests "Zioncheck Zippers" -- equal parts rye and honey, with a dash of mint -- before taking a tour of the city. On a dare, he peeled off his shoes and splashed about in the Rockefeller Center fountain.

The Washington press corps and Zioncheck's landlady were anxiously awaiting his return. The Zionchecks and Mrs. Young had their first altercation at the apartment. "At first, Zioncheck was amiable," reported the Washington Evening Star. "He showed Mrs. Young how his pet turtle could dance to the tune, 'I Can't Give You Anything But Love, Baby.'"

She was not amused. A heated argument ensued, during which the Zionchecks decided Mrs. Young should be forcibly ejected. Newspapers across the land treated readers to the bizarre photograph of the Honorable Marion Zioncheck dragging a little old lady out of her own home.

Mrs. Young was taken to the hospital, where she would be treated for a serious hip injury. Meanwhile, the unbothered Zioncheck mixed drinks for reporters, played with his turtles, and posed endlessly for pictures. He told the assembled scribes that he suspected Mrs. Young was a communist.

What happened next would presage COPS by some sixty years. At some point during the evening Rubye mysteriously fled. Zioncheck grew inconsolable. And when the last drunken reporter departed, Zioncheck worked himself into such a rage that he began hurling bottles and a typewriter out the window. This led to another violent arrest, with policemen wielding billyclubs to subdue the shirtless congressman

After making bail, Zioncheck would spend the better part of the next day vainly searching for his missing wife. But not before heading to the zoo, where he enthusiastically pointed out to spectators how "Wahoo," his favorite baboon, could perform somersaults.

When he finally returned alone to his apartment that evening, ironically, he told reporters standing sentry duty, "I've got to get some sleep before I go nuts."

He would need his sleep. The next day would proved the turning point in the bizarre saga of Rep. Marion Zioncheck.

RISING EARLY, ZIONCHECK SET OFF in his roadster, tearing through the streets of Washington toward the White House. He cruised the wrong way down some streets and even drove one block of Connecticut Avenue on the sidewalk to avoid a traffic jam.

He pulled up to the president's mansion at 8:30. (In an earlier, safer era, there was no gate around the White House, and anybody could drive up.) The congressman announced he had a few gifts for President Roosevelt. Skeptical police officers inspecting his bag found a number of empty beer bottles, a mothball container, and some ping-pong balls. Roosevelt wasn't back from a yachting excursion, so Zioncheck scribbled a note to his fellow Democrat, left the items, and departed.

By this time Zioncheck's behavior was catching up to him. He was arrested that afternoon and placed in the sanitarium. A trial was ordered to determine his sanity. "Detention in Gallinger Hospital, however, did not stop the Zioncheck antics," reported The New York Times. Clad in pajamas, he invited in news photographers "for whom he posed in various attitudes that he considered fitting for a person in his suspected condition."

Zioncheck might have thought it funny that everyone thought he was crazy, but he didn't help his case much by what happened next. He escaped. After kicking in two window screens, a wire report noted, Zioncheck "galloped about the grounds, whooping and puffing at a long black cigar, until caught by guards."

Rubye reappeared on the scene, and had her husband transferred to a private hospital near Baltimore in exchange for dropping lunacy charges. The congressman was there for barely a week before he escaped again, this time scaling a fence, outrunning hospital guards, and disappearing into the woods. Zioncheck trekked 18 miles before hitching a ride back to Washington, where police found him the following day.

Zioncheck struck a deal. He agreed to return to Seattle rather than be arrested once more. The House Sergeant-at-Arms and a D.C. policeman accompanied the flighty congressman as far as Chicago, where a crowd of hundreds waited for a glimpse of the lunatic congressman they had heard so much about.

topics:
Law, Supreme Court