Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1953-08-06
By Jenkin Lloyd Jones
Editor. the TvIsa Tribune.

(Mr. Jones came to Washington, on
leaue of absence from his newspaper,
for temporary duty as conSultant to
the Secretary of the Nary. An illness
in his family caused his return to
Tulsa. The article belot0 tUGs printed
in the monthly Bulletin of the. Anleri-
can Society of Newspaper Editors and
is reproduced here at The Stars re-
quest By Mr.. Jones' permissionJ
THERE'S six-button phone on my
Il desk. Punch three of them and you
get outside lines. Punch another and
my charming secretary appears. A fifth
is labeled frankly, Blank" And the
sixth? All, that mysterious sixth! It's
just there. No hint as to where it
goes. The White House? Central In
telligence? The R-R-Russian EN-
bassy?? I find myself staring often at
Button 6.
also have a squawk box-a large and
impressive one with 10 switches. It cost
many thousands of dollars and adds
greatly to my efficiency. I can call
the Secretary's aide and suggest going
to the ball game without wasting time
dialing numbers on my Six-button
PIIOIlC. Au1O1IS IIlOoC VI us C11SdSCu AL
furthering the defense of our country
time is of the essence in this year of
crisis
Each morning 10000 people pour
into this gigantic Pentagon. They come
in from all five sides, ride the esca-
lators to all five floors, and seek their
Offices in all five rings.
You watch them scurrying down the
corridors ahead of the tardy bell, face
less people carrying their private
treasures of hope, ambition and ro-
nance or their private burdens of
tragedy, insecurity and deadly bore
dom Old friends work for years in
the Pentagon without discovering the
presence of each other. Like walkers
on the streets of great city they stare
ahead. Only when they have turned
off the last wide corridor into the
small passageway leading to their own
particular cells is there likely to be a
familiar face and a word of greeting.
All morning long the giant hive
drones and buZZes. The thousands OF
telephones ring. The thousands of cleo
trio typewriterS clatter. The hundreds
of messenger boys pass back and forth
on their three-wheeled cycles, tinkling
their bells at the intersections Deep
in the quiet conference rooms hand
full of dedicated men gamble the
wealth of nation and the lives of mil
lions in a grim game in which the
first prize is called Peace" and the
second prize Victory" There is no
third prize.
Noon comes and the throngs con-
verge on the tons of foods and the
oceans of coffee. On pleasant days the
crowds carry cake and pie out into the
interior courtyard. great greensward
surrounded by the five high walls. 1t
is pretty in the way of prison garden
on which the old life-termerS lavish
their devotion under the eyes of the
tower guards. On rainy days Penta-
gonianS jam the shops in the huge
concourse, riff1ing through books, fin
gering dresses, having their shoes fixed,
or elbowing up to the drug counters.
Throughout the long afternoon the
hive seethes. The empire building goes
on. The efforts to cut and slash go on.
Furniture is moved back and forth.
Projects are conceived, discussed, Or
dered and forgotten. Elaborate reports
are written to be unread, ignored or
pigeon holed. The vast machine of bu-
reaucracy clanks, creaks and screeches
"a vital machine set up to do vital
Job but a machine in which some gears
don't At, some strain at an overload,
and some turn endlessly in the air with
out engaging any cogs at all.
IS
900 rises from the 10000 chairs turns
out the $4,000 lights, locks the 10000
doors. The halls resound to the tramp
of 10000 feet. The cloverleafs to Vir-
GINA and the bridges across the Poto-
mac are choked with cars and buses.
BY $50 the Pentagon is vacant shell.
Your footsteps echo hollowly in the
corridor as lonely guard rises to see
your pass.
This nerve center of the arsenal
of democracy" Git says here is lin
reality a pyramid of caste and special
privilege.
There is the caste of the parking lots.
The underlings are assigned spaces that
vary from halfway to Baltimore to half
way to Richmond. The bourgeoisie get
the places on the ramps in front of the
five important doors (See. children,
there's daddyS car right down there.
The royal family is called for and de-
livered.
There's the caste of the chow halls.
The unwaShed grab sandwiches at the
lunch stands or waste away in the long
cafeteria lines. The captains, command
erS and colonies are supposed to eat
with the junior executives. I am as
signed to the dining room of the adj
mirals and generals. 1t is generally
pretty we'll filled with captains and
colonies who have ridden in on the
coattailS of the great. The situation is
outrageous. Above me the elect feast in
the hush of their private dining salons.
When the mobs with their clenched
fists and scythes take over this YER
sailles these salons will doubtless be