The first politician of the United States looked out grimly from his pedestal at his successors as several slylooking men drove up before the Commander Hotel for the Meet-the-Candidates-for-Cambridge-School-Committee-and-City-Council festival.

A prosperously paunched fellow walked up to us and handed us a lithographed copy of his face. "My name is George," he said. "Any questions?" "My name is Sullivan," another man told us. This meant nothing. "John L. Sullivan," he added, "remember the L." There were, also, we learned, a B, a J, and a T.

"Taeke this grreen carrd," a friendly man with a red badge brogued. "It's forr the doorr prrize." These consisted, we discovered, of ten gallons of gas, which later went to a candidate's brother, a bottle of more attractive brew, which went to a candidate's wife, and a box of cigars, which went to a charming lass who apparently belonged to no one.

Finally the crowd moved to the auditorium, people sat down, and candidates strode to the platform. The first speaker, a brusque, barrel-chested lad, bemoaned the fact that "we may have a team going without a coach." And sobbing, he sat down. Then a woman running for City Council arose and said absent-mindedly, "I am a candidate for re-election to the School Committee."

By this time, the abstruse speeches had tired the audience, and the M.C. felt it was time for relaxation. Two little children clad in green arose to tap dance, and picked their feet up in a most entertaining fashion. A husky man arose, looked around at the speakers, and warbled, "You can tell from the blarney that he's from Killarney," while the ladies whispered, "Oh, he's handsome," and the men grunted, "Now on this building deal over the Charles River ..."

The serious business of the evening resumed as a little man puffing a used cigar came stamping up the aisle. We recognized him as the Mayor, who announced himself as "the big bad wolf of the Cambridge School Committee." He went on in this vein, advised citizens to "give Eddy your first place vote," and to vote yes on both referendums being considered.

"Yay!" screamed his friends and relatives. "Vote no!" cried someone who most definitely was not. "Vote yes!" yelled a man who probably was. "Throw him out!" cried an in-law. "I leave it to the citizens!" cried the good man himself, as he stomped from the hall.

"When Irish eyes are smiling," crooned the young man as the relatives marched out.