U.S.A_ - John Dos Passos [558]
-499-folk. The American people need to be protected from cranks."
"That, Mr. Bingham," said J. W., "wil be the keynote of the campaign we have been outlining." The fingerbowls had arrived. "Wel , Mr. Bingham," said J. W., getting to his feet, "this has been indeed a pleasure. I unfortunately shal have to leave you to go downtown to a rather im-portant directors' meeting but Mr. Savage here has every-thing right at his fingertips and can, I know, answer any further questions. I believe we are meeting with your sales department at five."
As soon as they were alone E. R. Bingham leaned over the table to Dick and said,
"Young man, I very much need a little relaxation this afternoon. Perhaps you could come to some entertainment as my guest. . . . Al work and no play . . . you know the adage. Chicago has always been my headquarters and whenever I've been in New York I've been too busy to get around. . . . Perhaps you could suggest some sort of show or musical extravaganza. I be-long to the plain people, let's go where the plain people go." Dick nodded understandingly. "Let's see, Monday afternoon . . . I'l have to cal up the office. . . . There ought to be vaudevil e. . . . I can't think of anything but a burlesque show."
"That's the sort of thing, music and young women. . . . I have high regard for the human body. My daughters, thank God, are magnificent physical specimens. . . . The sight of beautiful female bodies is relaxing and soothing. Come along, you are my guest. It wil help me to make up my mind about this matter. . . . Between you and me Mr. Moorehouse is a very extraor-dinary man. I think he can lend the necessary dignity. . . . But we must not forget that we are talking to the plain people."
"But the plain people aren't so plain as they were, Mr. Bingham. They like things a little ritzy now," said Dick, fol owing E. R. Bingham's rapid stride to the checkroom.
-500-"I never wear hat or coat, only that muffler, young lady," E. R. Bingham was booming.
"Have you any children of your own, Mr. Savage?" asked E. R. Bingham when they were settled in the taxi-cab. "No, I'm not married at the moment," said Dick shakily, and lit himself a cigarette. "Wil you forgive a man old enough to be your father for pointing something out to you?" E. R. Bingham took Dick's cigarette between two long knobbed fingers and dropped it out of the win-dow of the cab. "My friend, you are poisoning yourself with narcotics and destroying your virility. When I was around forty years old I was in the midst of a severe eco-nomic struggle. Al my great organization was stil in its infancy. I was a physical wreck. I was a slave to alcohol and tobacco. I had parted with my first wife and had I had a wife I wouldn't have been able to . . . behave with her as a man should. Wel , one day I said to myself: ' Doc Bingham' --my friends cal ed me Doc in those days --'like Christian of old you are bound for the City of Destruction and when you're gone, you'l have neither chick nor child to drop a tear for you.' I began to interest myself in the proper culture of the body . . . my spirit I may say was already developed by familiarity with the classics in my youth and a memory that many have cal ed prodigious.
. . . The result has been success in every line of endeavor.
. . . Someday you shal meet my family and see what sweetness and beauty there can be in a healthy American home."
E. R. Bingham was stil talking when they went down the aisle to seats beside the gangplank at a burlesque show. Before he could say Jack Robinson, Dick found himself looking up a series of bare jiggling female legs spotted from an occasional vaccination. The band crashed and blared, the girls wiggled and sang and stripped in a smel of dust and armpits and powder and greasepaint in the glare of the moving spot that kept lighting up E. R.