Vagabond Editorials

By Jack Dionne

"The difference between a mob and a crowdr" said the old maxim, "is that the crowd isfor you, while the mob is against you."

You hear and read *"ln In"l" days about ..lobbyists.,, Said Senator James Reed one time, when asked what he thought about lobbyists and their activities: ..A man who supports my bill is a loyal patriot; one who opposes it is a designing lobbyist." And THAT is about the proper definition.

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I often wonder what would become of this country if it were not for the so-called "Third House" that accompanies all Legislative and Congressional assemblies. Too many people thinkof the lobbyist as a man who fits about in darkness, conniving through evil ways to coerce and prevent the unsuspecting legislator from doing his plain duty by the "plain Peepul."

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As a matter of fact the genuine lobbyist of this day and age is a straight, upstanding, helpful person, who has acquired a reservoir of definite, dependable, practical information on some particular subject of legislation, and is in position to furnish that information in the most upright and respectable fashion to the often bewildered legislator, in order that the representative of the people may be in position to arrive at legislative decisions in the best interests of all concerned. ***

A qualified, dependable, honorable expert on some specific subject is the high type lobbyist of today. And he is definitely as essential to the well-being of this country as the members of the other two legislative houses who are duly elected as representatives of the people.

The average law-makeJt" l"LU upon to pass and vote upon legislation covering a wide variety of technical subjects, concerning all of which he could not possibly be informed sufficiently to do justice to the important matters at hand. If he can turn to sorne man in whom he can rightfully repose confidence, and .secure from that man a reservoir of depehdable knowledge concerning some important matter on which he must pass, he is fortunate indeed; and so are the people he serves.

And that's that. A few more days and the turbulence of this always feared "Presidential election year" will be over.

Every man will be grateful. I know I will. And my deepest gratitude will be on account of the fact that frorn then on I will once again be able to tune in on my favorite radio program without hearing the eternal "Blah-blahblah" of politics.

Plenty of people advocate and predict that the time will soon come when trucks, busses, and heavy vehicles will have separate highways of their own, and not be allowed on the highways that are built for lighter traffic. I'm that way about radio. I think we should have at least one great national broadcasting service entirely and forever free from the voices of men with axes to grind, whether they be political or business proclaimers. t:f*

I feel certain that a God of infinite justice and understanding will gladly issue a blanket proclamation of forgiveness to the millions of people who have uttered deep, dark, gutteral oaths in the past several months every time they reached for Bing Crosby and got Bunko Kelly, or for Jack Benny and got Loudmouth Jones. I would say in defense of that sort of cussing what that celebrated patriot and orator, Patrick Henry once said (with slight changes in wording): "If THIS cussing be sinning, then make the most of it."

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Speaking of PatrickHenry (and folks, THERE is a subject), I am reminded that I once heard a certain nationally known orator (who delivered the keynote speech at one of the national political conventions last summer) quote with mighty emphasis the immortal words of Patrick Henry -"Give me liberty, or give me death"-and then to the consternation of all his multitude of listeners, credit them to Henry Clay. Henry Clay was a mighty fine man, but it took a more inspired man than he could ever have been to rise to the heights of immortality to which Patrick Henry rose on several occasions.

I remember once when my children were in school one of them was called upon to discuss in class their conception of the most interesting and colorful figure in American history. So she came home and asked me to suggest whom she should choose. And I told her to take Patrick llenry, and if she couldn't win that debate with such a subject, she should be ashamed of herself. She did; and she won the debate. If you have a quiet evening at home and want to spend just one hour thrilling yourself to the very marrow with the brief and outlined story of a man' just read the essay on Patrick }Ienry, in Elbert Hubbard's "Little Journeys." we need a "Give *",i"ir, *o, *t*r" me death" patriot in this country all the time to thrill and enthuse and protect us. But there never was but one. More's the pity. You read that picture of Patrick Henry that Elbert Hubbard paints; and then you look about you today and feel like you have gone withGulliver-into the land of the Lilliputians. *trF

When Jimmy Walker was first suggested for Mayor of New York, one big NewYork politician asked another: "\Mhat sort of a mayor would Jimmy Walker make?" And the other answered: "Rotten. But, oh boy ! What a candidate !" And when you finish reading Elbert Hubbard's brief but magnificent word picture of Patrick Henry, you will say with equal enthusiasm: "Oh boy ! What an American !"

And while we are reminiscing of great Americans, do you recall the time when Daniel Webster, a Whig' sat in a great assemblage and listened to the suggestion that the Whig party be abolished? And how he reared that mighty form and that Godlike brow of his before that assemblage of great and near-great, and said to them: "Gentlemen, I am a Whig; a constitutional Whig; a Faneuil Hall Whig; and if you abolish the Whig party-WHERE AM I TO GO?" And those men looked at each other aghast, and wondered how they could abolish that party when it meant so much to Daniel Webster. Can you, by the farthest stretch of the imagination, conceive of any man in this day and age stampeding a great political meeting solely on the grounds that HE belonged to a party and therefore it could not be abolished? Some guy, thatWebster. It must follow the name. The Webster that wrote the dictionary was no slouch. rkt**

Speaking of research; every day, almost, somewhere in this country, a street car line folds up and quits. Obsolete' they say. The bus and the private automobile have cut down its income below the survival line. So I asked a street railway man the other day if the street car folks were justlying down and letting their business go by default, or if they were, by any chance, taking the research route like the railroads have done, to try and stem the tide that fows so stoutly against them. And I was most interested to learn that the street car folks are right now starting a strong fight back. *:r:f

For the past several years, he told me, the street car