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Before he was Governor of New York, Franklin Roosevelt spotted Professor Moley on the State Crime Commission, decided he would be a useful citizen to keep within calling distance. Mr. Roosevelt was impressed with his ability to assemble political facts; liked his fresh political outlook. Here was no cut & dried college professor wedded to the past but rather an agreeable, cultured man who was itching for a chance to put his academic theories on government into prac tice, a man of thoughtful independence who could admire Tammany's Boss Murphy and still vote for Socialist Norman Thomas, a man who could say without cynicism: "Practical politics is dependent upon an ability to guess accurately which way to act." Raymond Moley is not an economist, nor is he a lawyer. Yet Mr. Roosevelt, after his presidential nomination, found him highly useful in both fields. He became the first member of the Democratic campaign "Brain Trust." He helped Mr. Roosevelt write his speeches. He coined stinging phrases for him (e. g., "industrial cannon fodder"). He traveled up & down the land with the party nominee. And he had his reward when he and he alone marched into the Red Room with President- elect Roosevelt to discuss War Debts with President Hoover last November. President Roosevelt gave Dr. Moley his State Department appointment three days after the inaugural. For his personal staff the new Assistant Secretary picked Arthur Mullen Jr., son of Mr. Roosevelt's Chicago convention floor manager; Celeste Jedel, 22, a pretty honor student out of one of his Barnard classes; Annette Pomerene, 23, a tall, dark, crisp graduate of Hunter College. Celeste Jedel has her desk in his office, is carried on the department's rolls as a member of its legal staff. She used to help Dr. Moley run his Barnard classes, manage his tea parties. So well does she know the current of his mind that she can, if necessary, write letters, articles, speeches for him. A feature of the Assistant Secretary's office routine is what he calls "the children's hour between the dark and the daylight'' when his staff assembles at his desk to dispatch departmental business before going home. Dr. Moley lives with Mr. Mullen at the Carlton Hotel, three squares from his office. He drives a sleek new Packard roadster. He takes no exercise, plays no golf, says: "I know of no scientific proof that all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy." Mrs. Moley and the twins have been in Santa Barbara since September, will probably remain there until au- tumn. Dr. Moley likes to exhibit to callers his sons' watercolors and drawings from California. Their photograph, in identical bathing suits, hangs high on his office wall. Each morning he walks to the White House and spends his two most important hours of the day there. Later, back at his office, he receives a string of callers, each with an Idea to be put before the President. Worthwhile ideas reach their destination in short order. Many an evening Dr. Moley passes with the President, re-viewing the day's developments, planning for the morrow. Because of his easy access to the White House and the weight of his words with the President, Dr. Moley is viewed with alarm, if not distrust, by most of the Democratic politicians at the Capitol. So are the other members of the "Brain Trust"—Rexford Guy Tugwell in the