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Show THE SEARCHLIGHT Politics ?So What! The deftness with which FDR clouts his political opponents is hilariously intriguing. About the time his political adversaries are sure they have him in a hole a mile deep, he unlimbers a few hefty lefts and rights on them that puts them to sleep for another two years. The organized campaign of vilification and abuse of the New Deal and the President’s labor friends, seemed to be getting along very well. The Trrbune’s dunce cap cartoons, and newspaper jibes at alleged starry-eyed politiclans were making headway. Congress was beginning to thumb its nose at the President. The gentlemen so appropriately described as American Fascists by Vice President Wallace were snorting and bragging. They were sure they had FDR on the run. So Mr. Roosevelt took a couple of hours off from running the war and let them have it. He announced a mustering out program for soldiers at the close of the war that should net him at least 10 million votes. In those two hours he got back all he had lost, with some to spare. His enemies don’t dare to oppose his proeram for fear they will go down individually. They have to support it, or else. And after they help him put it over, FDR will get the political credit. And the best part is, his proeram is splendid. The soldier boys won’t have to hiteh-hike around the country after the war in a futile search for jobs. They will have something to go on during the period of transition back to a peace-time economy. They won’t be used to break the labor market and That shatter American standards of living. safeguard is easily worth the six billions it will cost. His enemies say that his program is politics. aren’t bothered a particle We so. Maybe If it’s polities, it’s the kind of about that. politics this country needs—the kind of polities that stamp Franklin D. Roosevelt as per- haps the most wholesome politician in American Certainly it is the kind of polities history. that will induce the people to insist on a fourth term for Mr. Roosevelt. As we listened to his address we chuckled as we thought of the agonizing spasms that must be shaking the well-fed, Adonis-like bod- ies of Rube Clark, Orval Adams, Dick Madsen, Doug Moffat, and other local celebrities so aptly described by the Vice President in an earlier broadeast. If the of Chamber Com- merce and the Manufacturers Association into mourning we’ll know the reason. go “What Sunday School Did for Me’ We used to think that Sunday School was a rather meritorious institution—that it tended to keep the kids reasonably close to the ‘straight and narrow’’. If they went haywire it was because they forgot the lessons learned in Sunday School. But last Sunday’s convictions. paper carried Trib jolted our hallowed We’re a little confused. one of those ‘‘What That Sunday School Did for Me”’ stories by Clyde C. Edmonds. If Clyde eredits Sunday School with his greatness, who is to be blamed for those qualities of his so obvious to the Searchlight? The superlative Clyde made a number of artless admissions. With lofty simplicity he let it be known that Sunday School was responsible for giving Utah such an exemplar of Christian a possessor conduet—such of guile- less traits as Clyde naively admits. Mr. Edmonds crowned himself with a sixply halo, so shiny that it may deceive even some of his employees and his egg producers. The next thing we know Clyde ing himself with will be adorn- one of those slushy ‘‘thumb- nail sketches’’ on the mining page of the Trib by a gink writers of tion from out of the who ealls himself ‘‘Oldtimer’’. The such drivel must draw their inspiralistening to a cow pulling its hoof mud. Of course, it may be that the Sunday School in Cache Valley that came tion was under a bit old-fashioned, (Continued on page and 7) our observa- excessively |
