Socrates is the name of the protagonist here, and Athens (California) is his home town; but these are the only classical touches in an otherwise humdrum production. This probe into the lusty bustle of Washington confusion is constructed along lines so directly opposite to plays dealing with the other Athens that all references to Greece and Grecian society appear dragged in by quotation marks and seem completely out of context. Revolving around a yearling Congressman who identifies himself with his namesake, the play attempts to inject an Old World perspective into the hurly-burly of politics; but long before the end, the author drops his classic approach and blunts his touch on the smooth sides of several dozen random cliches. Like the mantelpiece sculpture of Socrates that turns up in the second act, the result is a hollow bust.

While the Athens Congressman (Anthony Quinn) is acting the part of his namesake, he is also pulling for a United States of the World, an idea that appears to be the prime mover of the play, as well as the Greatest Idea Ever to Hit Congress. Potentially capable of turning the story into a provocative speculation on the shortcomings of UN, the idea falls prey to the same double-breasted double talk that plagues the Secretes business. Ideas give way to fists as the actors apparently fire of aiming empty words at empty seas and resort to more satisfying exertions. The bust of Socrates gets knocked over, but the audience is barely shaken.

Dragging more as the end approaches, the play seems to have been written on a streetcar called "Hurry-up." A bumpy, uneven plot that strays off the track more than once, and a jolting dialogue that gathers speed only when heading downhill, suggest haste more than tempered reflection. The few worthwhile thoughts on the value of means versus ends become lost in the general rush-hour atmosphere. Perhaps the author had to finish his piece before he could start his Christmas shopping.