Evening star., 1941-09-25


McIemore were trampling
one another in a rush to reach
Willkie headquarters and volunteer
their 24-hour services for the
cause. They were twelve-cylinder
zealots, ready to abandon their
businesses and families to drive Mr..
Roosevelt from the White House
behind the leadership of the man
with the catch-as-comb-can hair
do.
You could almost light a cigar
cite from the glow in their eyes as
they talked of the man who, TO
paraphrase Baby Dear" had come
out of the utilities into the here.
At last there had come along
man with the character, the con-
victions, the charm, the appeal, the
forthrightness and the answering
loyalty to the Party that was needed
to beat that blankety-blank in the
White House.
They wore Willkie rings, Willkie
buttons, Willkie stickpins and
Willkie hatbands. In fact, they
said Mr.. Willkie was living proof
that a man didn't have to be born
in a log cabin to be an Abraham
Lincoln.
You should talk to these same
Republicans now. No, on second
thought you shouldn't. It'll make
you too unhappy, give your heart
too big a wrench. They are abject
creatures. Their eyes are sunk
deep in their heads. Their clothes
hang loosely on them. They still
are numb from the shock Of Mr..
Willkie-their hero-aligning him.
self with Mr.. Roosevelt and advo-
eating That Mans" policies.
Mention Mr.. WILKES name to
them and they look at you in hurt
despair. A year ago mention of
his name would have sent them
leaping to the highest chandelier to
deliver a burning talk on his virtues,
or sent them scurrying for a cam
paign fund pledge for you to sign.
/ I was a witness to one Of the
most cruel, heartless tricks ever to
be played on a group of men. 1t
happened at a golf club not long
ago and was perpetrated by one Of
| the few Democrats in the club, and
man who had taken an awful
verbal beating before the election
last year.
From somewhere he had secured
one Of those super life-size paste
board cutouts of Mr.. Willkie, relic
of the dear, dead days of 1910. 1t
was so lifelike that if it had sud-
denly raised one of its arms to muss
up its hair more attractively, or
opened its mouth and said, Fellow
Republicans" you wouldn't have
been surprised.
X y ~
The Democrat waited until the
former Willkie fanatics were gath
cred together in a corner OF the
locker room and then made his en-
trance, bearing the cutout OF the
once beloved leader.
Gentlemen, your hero" the Dem
ocrat announced, plunking down the
cardboard Willkie.
/ Two old bankers. one of whom had
once worn a Willkie button set with
diamonds to show his enthusiasm
for the Hoosier, fell off their chairs
and whacked their heads on a
mashie niblick. An author, who had
given more time to the Willkie cause
than it takes to write a novel, suf-
fered what can kindly be described
as a fit, and an assortment Of brok-
ers, industrialists and sound busi-
nessmen raised a howl remindful of
pack of timber wolves if timber
wolves sound the way Jack London
wrote about them as sounding.
Tha reaction of the Republicans to
the 1941 Wendell Willkie is puz-
zling. Twelve months ago the men
who blanch at the mention Of his
name praised the same things
about Mr. Willkie that are giving
them apopleXy now. How many
times did you hear them say that
what they liked about him was that
he expressed his own opinion no
matter what others thought about
him, that he took orders from no
bosses, that he was honest enough
to act and think the way he felt, and
that he didn't let the thought Of
personal award color his actions?
Ten millions times, imagine.
That's what the man seems to be
doing now. He is still saying and
doing what he feels. If he likes Mr..
Roosevelt, he says so. If he leans
toward intervention he makes it
plain that he does. He goes about
pulling no punches. Right or wrong,
the mans honesty can't be ques-
toned.
That is, in my book. But, of
course, may be biased, coming from
part of the country where Re-
publicanS are used in the making OF
Brunswick stew.
Distributed by McNaught Syndicate IncJ