MEET ME ON THE BARRICADES

York State Boxing Commission?” Simpson asked fearfully. “A boxing commissioner in the arts?” “Of course, the manly art of self-defense, you know.” “Yes, I suppose so,” Simpson went on with a sink- ing heart. Then, hopefully: “But if you do form such

P a commission and you need someone to be in charge

of symphonic concerts I mean to say I’ll be very happy to take charge for a very reasonable hono- rarium.”

“Good heavens, Simpson,” the President ex- claimed, “don’t tell me that you, too, are a job- seeker !”

“Not at all, Mr. President, I meant a small fee just to cover expenses.”

“Take it up with your local congressman, Simp- son,” the President said with some tartness.

- And with that the nation’s Chief Executive walked away, disappearing into the columned entrance to a bank.

—A Rockefeller-controlled bank, I’ll bet. They say he’s sore only at the Morgan banks. The struggle between various factions of the ruling class: an inner contradiction of capitalism. I wouldn’t be surprised if he never read a line of Marx.

Groggy, Simpson shook his head vigorously as

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