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Impartial Senate observers rate him thus: A veteran legislator lacking the national outlook of statesmanship: a party leader without sufficient followers to make a party record: a stand-pat conservative typifying a passing era of economic thought: a consummate politician, tricky and at times treacherous who somehow has come unburnt through scandal after scandal; a lovable old humbug'' (in the words of the press gallery) who is threatened with political extinction Nov. 8.—Ed.
Simple Song
Sirs:
May I suggest that you give your readers and correspondents opportunity to cheer up by singing this simple song and voting Nov. 8:
DON'T ROCK THE BOAT
Don't rock the boat, voters, don't rock the boat, Slick to the Ship of State that keeps us afloat, Hoover is Captain, we are with him with our vote We shall win together and we Won't rock the boat.
(Sing this to the good old Tune "Pull for the Shore")
ANGUS HIBBARD
Chicago, Ill.
Old Sipsey Struts
Sirs:
As a reader of TIME and a listener to The March of Time, I have knowledge of the suggestion that the present need is a soul-stirring poem.
I think, though, that the enclosed poem, composed by the principal of our Negro school at Sipsey mine and which reflects improved wages with ability to eat higher up on the hog, will have a more direct appeal to the Forgotten Man
As every Southerner knows, white meat is the cheapest cut from the hog, without even a streak of lean, and otherwise variously scribed as ''salt pork,'' ''sow belly," etc.
Seriously, the eve of winter — and perhaps the prospects of Democratic victory — has greatly stimulated the demand for coal and our mines are now on full operating schedule for the first time in many months.
This poem is responsive to this situation. It is in a humorous vein but, at the same time, well expresses the philosophy of our Southern Negro, who is patient in adversity, buoyant in good times, and cheerful at all times.
A. W. YOGTLE
DeBardeleben Coal Corp.
Birmingham, Ala.
Principal R. W. Taylor's poem:
GOODBY, WHITE MEAT! HOWDY, HAM!
While waiting turn to trade the other day I overheard a colored brother say. 'Gimme two poun's of pork-chops an' er poun uy ham— Dey'll sho go good wid my big yeller yams. '
Why what about white meat, I interposed. 'Dat's all right. Fess; but on dat bird da season's closed, I et what I could get when times was tight, 'Taint dat way now. Things sho is looking bright.
Worked twenty shifts last month: Why aint dat fine? I'll tell de world Old Sipsey's coming down de line; An' while she 'struts her stuff,' for Rose an' Sam, 'Twill be, goodby, White Meat, Howdy, Ham.
Doherty & Wardman
Sirs:
In your issue of Oct. 17 you reprint the statements made by Senator John J. Blaine in January 1931, regarding the alleged corrupt financing of some of the hotel properties at Washington, D. C., and in his remarks he dragged in my name and made a terrible and untrue assault on me.