HIZZONER IN A NEW ROLE

Fairs, pageants, parades and jubilees have always been considered occasions when the genius of a people betrays itself. But to have genius there must be some unity of race; and when there is no New Yorker but only a man from New York, one is at a loss to know just which soul "of the greatest city in the world" is to he found in the present Silver Jubilee.

One deduction is fairly obvious and gives an answer. Mayor Hylan is the friend of the people, the people's choice. He lunches with the Street, hobnobs with Washington Square, nods to Fifth Avenue, and chucks the Bowery under the chin. He is a "man so various that he seemed to be not one, but all mankind's epitome". Mayor Hylan is the soul of New York; it is his Jubilee.

A celebration for which the Council refused to provide the desired funds could hardly be called a spontaneous product of the people. The mayor solicited contributions and placed the orders: his right to be the star in his own show is undeniable. He waited with approved technique to make his impressive entrance after the chorus had done admiring the new house. A fanfare of bugles was a most fitting announcement of this "greatest" of mayors and most appropriate was the brass-buttoned band of policemen playing "Hall to the chief". His opening speech so stirred the Police Glee Club that they replied with "He's a Jolly Good Fellow", and fired the Municipal Band with such civic pride that they blared out a march, only to clash with the Firemen's Band as it gave way to a similar outburst.

Hence this Jubilee has at least a saving unity. Had it been left to the races of New York it might have resulted an agitated kaleidoscope or a calliope gone wild. As it is, only a municipal circus with the Mayor taking several parts and cracking the ringmaster's whip.