Word: farleys
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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Second Democrat to realize that no Presidential blessing would come his way was James Aloysius Farley, Postmaster General and Politician Plenipotentiary to the New Deal (TIME, April 11). Third came last week, when Paul Vories McNutt, Federal Security Administrator, his back a mass of stab wounds from his New Deal friends, hurriedly got leave from his duties to take his case to the country. But Big Jim Farley was already on his way. No one (but Mr. Farley) doubts that he knows, by first name, 10,000 people all over the U. S. Mr. Farley's only doubt...
Last week Mr. Farley ended a trip that took him through Indiana, Kentucky, Tennessee, Illinois, Missouri, Kansas, Texas, Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, Georgia, North Carolina-twelve States in twelve days. He covered 3,524 miles: 2,701 by train, 823 by auto. He entered 57 towns and cities, made 76 appearances and addresses (35 were formal speeches, 41 stop-talks), attended ten State chapter conventions of the National Association of Postmasters, dedicated six new post offices, launched three new postage stamps, * ate publicly six breakfasts, ten luncheons, twelve dinners, two barbecues...
...every crossroad the American faces went by, rough-hewn and downy, seamed and corn-silk-smooth; gimlet-eyes, cross-eyes, big blue eyes, dim eyes; mouths wagging, lips smiling. When the train stopped, Mr. Farley said a few words, shook hands with those he could reach: hands bony, calloused, porky, damp, brown, white, black. And the train went on, past the blur of citizens in overalls, store suits, tailormades, in housedresses, straw hats with beaucatcher ribbons...
...busting police sirens down the Franklin Pike to Mr. Evans' home, a plantation once owned by Andrew Jackson's partner John Overton. There field-hands drew beer in tin cups, sweaty cooks turned roasts over barbecue pits, visitors trampled the fresh young daffodils in the meadow. Mr. Farley spoke, shook hands, praised Cordell Hull, Tennessee, the post office, went indoors to eat a vast spread of fried chicken, ice cream...
Highway patrolmen guarded the pop-bottle-littered lawn all night; at 7:30 a.m., pink and rested, Mr. Farley (who neither smokes nor drinks) nodded at guests drinking bourbon hot toddies, went in to breakfast on grapefruit-and-strawberries, broiled Tennessee ham, hominy grits, scrambled eggs, hot waffles with sorghum, coffee and tiny hot biscuits...