Bertie's Day

The million Illinoisans who went to their 90th State Fair in Springfield last week had fun. They squished happily through the straw-covered mud of the midway, saw a cow sculptured in 500 Ibs. of butter, ate prodigious quantities of hot dogs, drank gallons of sickening sweet orangeade, bought ''chameleons from Cuba," had the Lord's Prayer engraved on pennies, and knowingly appraised prize livestock.

But of all the exhibits, none attracted more attention than the entries in the political section. Illinois farmers, sweltering through hot, humid days, got a look at assorted bosses and water carriers, each a ribbon winner in his class.

Democrats were first; but their show was a sorry one. Only 1,800 party stalwarts were on hand to greet the big men from Chicago: tall, grinning Boss Ed Kelly and his small, bald lieutenant, Jake Arvey (TIME, July 22). Boss Ed dutifully praised Harry Truman as "the Old Hickory type, the shirtsleeves type, who will fight for his friends and his country." Little Jake said nothing, sat making mental note of the empty seats from which delegates from 75 downstate counties were distressingly absent.

Beer & Jokes. Next day, 11,000 Republican ward heelers, precinct captains and office seekers roared into the fairgrounds, leaving a wake of blended whiskey, cold beer and old Roosevelt jokes. They came by special train, bus, airplane, automobile caravan. They were cocky, noisy, full of fire. As farmers on the midway gaped, they clamored into the race-track grandstand for their own fun & fireworks.

The day had been billed as "Governor's Day," which would mean that it was in honor of handsome, white-haired Governor Dwight H. Green. But everybody in the grandstand had come to see bristling, ramrod-stiff Colonel Robert Rutherford McCormick, editor-publisher of the arch-nationalist Chicago Tribune. This was Bertie McCormick's day. Bertie was making his debut as unofficial commander of Illinois Republicans.

He sat glumly on a bare wooden platform while "Pete" Green and kinky-haired Senator C. Wayland Brooks paid him fancy tribute. He mopped streams of perspiration from his brow, went under the grandstand for a cold bottle of pop. Then he spoke.

"Communists & Millionaires." In clipped Groton-Yale accent, incongruous in the homely American setting, he damned the Democrats as tools of the "Communist-dominated P.A.C." Then he launched into criticism of "money-mad millionaires" who "dominate the Republican Party in most of the eastern states." Eastern Republicans, he snorted, are "fertile in expedients which was shown by the nomination of Wendell Willkie and Dewey, nominations made to prevent the election of a Republican President. . . . They think they can . . . nominate another renegade Westerner by scaring us with the atom bomb. . . ."

That was about all; the ward bosses and precinct captains beat their hands numb, and the band blared Lucky Day.

But on the way back to Chicago Boss McCormick said a mouthful on politics. He leaned back, coatless and shirt open at the neck, gave his word on the 1948 presidential lineup. Green: "Needs to be better known. Maybe a compromise candidate. I'm not backing him." Taft: "The best candidate. He's got a great name and he's managed to eliminate most of the criticism against him." Eisenhower: "I have a great interest in him." MacArthur: "Too old to be President." Warren: "Too far west--the East can't see past Ohio." Bricker: "Out because he was on a losing ticket in 1944." Stassen and Vandenberg: "They're Truman's candidates."

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