Wednesday afternoon, Reich went over to Melody Lane in the heart of the theatrical district and called on Psych-Songs, Inc. It was run by a clever young woman who had written some brilliant jingles for his sales division and some devastating strikebreaking songs for Propaganda back when Monarch needed everything to smash last year’s labor fracas. Her name was Duffy Wyg&. To Reich she was the epitome of the modern career girl—the virgin seductress.