The Congress: Mr. Speaker

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The Speaker of the House of Representatives ranks right behind Lyndon Johnson in the presidential succession. In power potential he stands second only to the President. "The Speaker," said Speaker Thomas B. Reed, "has one Superior and no peer." When he and the President are of the same party, the Speaker is expected to be the chief White House ally on Capitol Hill. The Speaker must be a skilled and cool parliamentarian, in complete control of the 437 men and women of the House, able to interpret, to arbitrate, and to act swiftly and certainly. Through his various powers, controls and discretions, he can exercise enormous influence on the flow of legislation. No law may be enacted without the Speaker's signature. His right to refuse recognition to members rising to speak on the floor is a legislative tool of immense power; his discretionary privilege of entertaining or refusing to entertain a motion is another.

In his prestigious new job, Speaker McCormack is paid $35,000 a year, plus $10,000 for expenses (an ordinary Representative gets $22,500). He also inherits two elaborate suites of offices and a cozy nook, a Cadillac with chauffeur, a private dining room. The power and the trappings of the Speaker are a big step up for any man—and a long way from the drab South Boston streets where John McCormack got his start.

John Kennedy and Nelson Rockefeller have won full political rights for the very rich—their sons may aspire to any office. John McCormack's rise to the Speakership is a forceful reminder of an older American theme.

The Deserving Poor. The South Boston of McCormack's boyhood was a neighborhood of shabby respectability. South Boston's citizens, almost all Irish American, were poor but industrious (the "deserving poor"). Drawn together by their church (at one time, South Boston claimed to produce more nuns and priests per capita than any other U.S. community) and by the bitter prejudice of Boston's entrenched Yankees, the Irish were fanatically loyal to one another. A local saying has it that "if God came down to South Boston and ran for office against a fellow who was born in the district, he'd be licked." When he was asked about his friendship with John McCormack, Richard Cardinal Gushing put it succinctly: "Of course we're friends. I'm from South Boston, he's from South Boston."