to him. Historians and economists tried to remind
us that there had been previous depressions and that
the Republic had survived. But we needed the
droll, jovial gags of Will Rogers to make us keep our
feet on the ground.

One of the finest facts about him was that he
never took a crack at any man--either a man, a
party, or a class--unless he or it was riding cockily
on top of the world. For example: his most ludi-
crous comment upon bankers was delivered at a
time when they were the Sacred White Cows of
every editorial office in America. It was in 1924
that Rogers came out with the paragraph: " Vander-
lip made a speech at the Rotary Club of Ossining,
New York, that astonished the United States. . . .
Rotary is composed of one of the best of each line of
work or business. . . . Mr. Vanderlip must have
felt right at home up there. There are more bankers
at Ossining than any town of its size in the United
States."

If that had been said in 1933, it would have been
an obvious, almost cowardly jab. But at the time
that Rogers published it, bankers were still the
High Priests of Finance, quoted with reverence upon
any subject from world politics to birth control.

After the pendulum had swung, after they had
become a general target for abuse, Rogers declined
to join the chorus. Instead, he turned the fire of
his comedic machine guns upon the people who were
kicking the bankers. As he said himself with his
unforgettable grin: "I'm always agin' the party
that's up." At the height of the Teapot Dome

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