Then too,
you know how a jury goes in a hotel run-in with somebody who
isn't worth much, or anything. You don't have a chance. Same way
with a hospital or a railroad. It's too bad it is that way, but
it is.
And now Mrs. Cunningham.. . . I don't know what was the matter
with my mental processes last Tuesday noon when I was in the
hotel and called you. I knew I was going straight in to eat with
Ike--I'd much rather have eaten with you--but I never thought of
asking you to come along and break bread with me. And now listen
how I thereby missed an opportunity to advance my social
standing. When I got in, there was our Labor-loving Democratic
State Chairman feeding his brother and some other "loyal
Democratic worker" off of our famous 2% Club money, over on one
side, and John Frenzel over in the corner feeding himself off of
usurious interest money he had wrangled out of some unfortunate
borrower. We'll cut out the Organized Labor-loving State Chairman
and get to Frenzel, who is somebody--as a man and every other way
including a whale of a good Banker with a whale of a good Bank.
Now just suppose I had been escorting you into the dining
room--you and your stately and dignified walk and manner, and
Frenzel had looked up through a cigarette smoke fog.
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