Wanted: Statesmen

Again a contemptuous laugh went up from the nation. This time it was X-cards for Congressmen.

X Marks The Spot. The men on Capitol Hill, jealous of their old prerogatives, clinging to their oldtime dignity, were bewildered and sore hurt. They were tired of being laughed at. Yet they did not wonder why they no longer commanded respect; instead they seized upon the press. Louisiana's Representative F. Edward Hebert warned darkly: "Unless something is done to curb that section of the press which holds in ridicule the keystone of democracy . . . our whole system of Government is going to collapse." Alabama's Senator John H. Bankhead accused disrespectful newspapers of "sedi-tious conduct," cried for a Justice Department investigation.

But it was not only the press that Congress had to reckon with; it was the nation.

Said Columnist Raymond Clapper (whose voice is more the plain man's than the newspaperman's): "Congress has remained a collection of two-cent politicians who could serve well enough in simpler days. But the ignorance and provincialism of Congress renders it incapable of meeting the needs of modern government. . . .

"People don't give a damn what the average Senator or Congressmen says. The reason they don't care is that they know what you hear in Congress is 99% tripe, ignorance and demagoguery and not to be relied on. . . ."

The Fallen Great. Few men nowadays challenge the assertion that for leadership the people now listen to the Government's executives, take counsel from the nation's press (whether or not they agree with it), get their debates and oratory from radio forums—but they watch Congress mainly for laughs.

In other days the name of Senator signified togas and statesmanship; Representative (of the people) was the finest word the Founding Fathers could find for a seat in the House. Now Congress was just the little fat whiskery man in the newspaper cartoons, forever falling on his face, leading his family to the public trough, his shirt front puffed out with the blowsy dignity of a burlesque clown. The only Congressional greats left are old men like Nebraska's Senator George W. Norris, Virginia's Senator Carter W. Glass—and they are past their prime.

There are still good, "adequate" younger men, who try hard to serve the nation and justify the dignity of their titles. But too often a seat in Congress is only the reward for dumb loyalty to party machines; Congress has too many members with no conception of world events, men who are no more fit to lead than any ward heeler.

The U.S. has never demanded that its Congressmen be always right or always brilliant. But Congress' own worry about its place in the sun was evidence last week that the nation was fed up with demagoguery and stubborn stupidity, pleased that political hacks were getting exactly what they deserved. Out with the Rascals. The next Congress, mostly to be elected in November, is likely to serve through fire and fury, through the desperately crucial years of the greatest war the U.S. has ever fought. If the two years bring victory, this Congress will shape the peace which will determine the course of future history, for better or worse, for generations.