Word: ickes
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Often it is pathetic rather than funny. The people it depicts are simple, worried U. S. proletarians: weedy, bedraggled cowhands, tintypical Americans of a generation ago. Some of them (the shambling, baggy Negro Big Ick, the fiddle-case-footed shop foreman "Bull of the Woods," the blowzy, ingeniously self-thwarting moppet "Worry Wart") are as real to newspaper readers as their own cousins. Its homely humanity, bleak realism, and salty, Mark Twainish humor have attracted the attention of Americana-collecting highbrows, have earned for its author the title "Will Rogers of the Comic Strip...
...first "press conference," five-month-old Harold Ickes Jr., spit-&-image son of the Secretary of the Interior, posed for photographers (see cut), was irreverently labeled by newsmen "Young Ick" and "Scion of Sass." Shy, serious, six-foot David Rockefeller, youngest of John D. Jr.'s five sons, rode in Manhattan's subway to the Municipal Lodging House, looked over its rooms, ate a six-and-a-half-cent meal (corn soup, codfish, celery and green peppers, applesauce, milk) with homeless men, rode back in the subway to make notes for his University of Chicago Ph.D. thesis...
...consequence of his feud with the press, Secretary Ickes has received more personal attention from the press than any other member of the Cabinet. The Secretary of the Interior's lineage took another bound as a result of his remarks. Next day Columnist Johnson cracked: "The Ick . . . is about as fair as Caiaphas, as objective as a fishwife and as courteous as a hyena. He said in his speech that he wishes I didn't love him so much. Why, gosh-darn it, I just can't help loving a man like that...
...press, General Hugh Johnson last week had fun playing with the President's nicknaming whimsey. The President calls his Secretary of the Treasury "Henry the Morgue." Columnist Johnson toyed with "Harry the Hop," "Fanny the Perk," "Danny the Rope," "Leo the Hen," "Harold the Ick," "Alben the Bark"-then gave up and said: "Try this new White House game on your acquaintances, mah frens...
...last week quoted to the Senate some Whitmanesque Tugwelliana, written by the young professor when he was 24. It began: I am strong, I am big and well-made, I am muscled and lean and nervous. . . . It ended: I am sick of a nation's stenches I am&ick of propertied Czars. . . . I have dreamed my great dream of their passing, I have gathered my tools and my charts; My plans are fashioned and practical; I shall roll up my sleeves-make America over! In the next 20 years Dr. Tugwell became a professor of economics and settled down...