Every Man in His Humor

Until last week, the 1940 political campaign had been conducted in such a rarefied ideological atmosphere that it seemed, to many a voter, almost unAmerican. The whole thing is too intellectual, the voters seemed to say, and the hell with it. Last week affairs took a sharp down turn into the realm of barroom argument. Anybody could understand and appreciate such minor campaign issues as:

Elliott Roosevelt. Fortnight ago, blond Elliott Roosevelt, 30, second son of the President, was gazetted captain in the Army Specialists Reserve, assigned to Air Corps procurement. Salary: $200 a month. Perquisites: $116 a month. Political repercussions : wow!

Old Ironpants (General Hugh S.) Johnson called this performance draft-dodging, nepotism, despicable and raw. Elliott Roosevelt pointed to the magnitude of his own sacrifice of income* (as news commentator for Emerson Radio, as operator of two Texas radio stations), pointed to General Johnson as "a disgusting old man."

Last week satirical "I Want To Be A Captain, Too" clubs were organized; buttons thus inscribed were worn throughout the East; a song was written to that slogan; and in Portland, Ore., 25 youths invaded a recruiting station, gave hard-boiled Sergeant Marley near-apoplexy by eagerly demanding they be enrolled as captains.

This week Elliott said solemnly: "I decided to join the Army because I must live with my conscience. . . . Instead of doing something good, I found I had committed a horrible political error. I had done one more thing to convince Father I always put my foot in my mouth. ... If I hurt my father's chances in November I know Father will think I have done right."

Ordeal By Egg. In Detroit, plump divorcee Doris La Roue, 31, RFC employe, pleaded guilty to tossing a metal wastebasket, a telephone book, an ash tray and other furniture oddments from an 18th story window during a downtown Willkie parade. Said Miss La Roue, denounced by the President, and straightway discharged from her job: "Something came over me." Her victim, Miss Betty Wilson, got twelve stitches in her head, flowers, national sympathy.

Candidate Willkie hadn't been hit yet; rotten-eggers are notoriously inaccurate. But people were really trying: eggs, a cantaloupe, a rock, a stick had been pitched at him. In Homestead, Pa., police confiscated an unknown quantity of tomatoes and apple cores from some twelve-year-old politicians; in Philadelphia, one Israel Kirby, 65--who happens to have been born in Rushville, Ind.--was arrested with a dozen eggs at a Shibe Park Willkie speech; had to prove they were eating, not throwing eggs.

Here were issues the voters could understand.

*Texas chums of Elliott Roosevelt hinted that he had exaggerated the extent of the sacrifice.

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