Confidential File

On the Mentally Sick Who Rule the Well

If someone will kindly run up a flag of truce, I'd like to have a word with Gov. Long.

I
know the old gentleman's respect for the working press isn't too keen
these days, but all I want is a minute of his valuable time.

I want to tell him that I'm on his side.

The boys with the note pads and the pencils have been snapping at his heels long enough. It's time they laid off.

I
think, just as he does, that the reporters and photographers from the
national news services should look elsewhere for copy, and let the
statesman from Louisiana live it up at the races and at bordertown night spots without having to put up with the intruding eye of the press.

If
he wants to insult Mexican officials and bounce four-letter words off
the hard skulls of Texas law officers, that's his affair.

Besides, I'd just as soon not hear any more about his escapades.

Because, from the daily reports I've been reading on Gov. Long's conduct, I've already formed my opinion of the man.

I don't need any more information to convince me that he's mentally ill.

And while, on that score, he has my sympathy, there's another aspect of the situation which, at present, has me more concerned.

And
that is: that here, in the United States, it's possible for a man
ravaged by delusions of persecution to remain — in his own state — a
popular and powerful political figure in spite of evidence that he's
incapable of managing his own personal affairs, much less the affairs
of millions.

In recent world history, we've seen insane men gain fantastic power.

But I can't recollect where it's ever happened in a democracy.

Before Gov. Long went on his rampage, I would have bet anyone that it couldn't happen here.

After
all, the people of the United States are, by world standards, a highly
intelligent, well-informed body. Even in the Deep South, our literacy
rate compares favorably.

To keep madmen from ruling us, our democracy has an intricate system of checks and balances.

But Gov. Long, apparently, has built up a machine more powerful than all of these forces.

The
chief executive of a state is a man entrusted with fantastic
responsibilities. Think, for a minute, what would happen here in
California if an Earl K. Long were sitting in the governor's chair in
Sacramento.

If you've been following the current legislative
session at all, you know the number of vital matters which need the
governor's signature.

I shudder to think about what could happen at a national level.

But much as I'd like to, I can't blame Gov. Long.

I'm convinced that he's not responsible for his own actions.

What Manner of Men?

However,
what I can't figure out is how — against the wishes of his family and
against the advice of some top psychiatrists — he can be turned loose
on the people of the state of Louisiana.

The obvious conclusion is that the people of Louisiana want it that way.

But cynical as I am about public attitudes in the South, I find that very hard to believe.

Maybe that's my trouble. I'm one of those naive individuals who think that humans are the most intelligent of the species.