ditions, inefficient and
negligent. He cited the operations of bunko swindlers, gamblers and
bandits and declared that the city was "wide open."

"The fair name of Los Angeles is being dragged in the mire by grafting
politicians, crooks and police grafters," one sentence of the statement
read.

In another page and a half he pledged himself to a crusade to clean up
the city, announcing that he had been assured of the support of the
churches and various business organizations as well as, he believed,
"every self-respecting and upstanding citizen of the city."

"I intend to hew to the line, let the chips fall where they may," the
statement said. "I'm in this fight to the finish. Vice, gambling,
banditry, lewd women and graft must go. Without having received the
slightest intimation that the mayor intended appointing me to the board
of police commissioners I have been accumulating evidence of conditions
in Los Angeles for months. I have enough information now to start firing
my guns and I call upon the law-abiding citizens of this great city to
stand with me in the fight."

To the statement was affixed the signature, "Reginald Gibson."

"I suppose, Mr. Gibson," said Brennan, "that everything you care to say
now is included in this statement?"

Gibson nodded.

"There is only one question I wish to ask you."

"Shoot," acquiesced the new commissioner.

"Have you any intention of entering the race for mayor at the next
election?"

"None whatever," Gibson hammered his fist down on the table. "I have no
political aspirations. I am actuated only by a desire on my part and on
the part of other citizens and organizations who realize conditions in
Los Angeles to restore this city to its place as the great metropolis of
the West."

"I understand," said Brennan. "I only asked that question in fairness to
yourself."

"I'm willing to write out a check right now for $1,000 to be given to
charity the minute I announce myself as candidate for mayor or for any
other public elective office," Gibson declared.

"No need, Mr. Commissioner," Brennan said. "We'd like you to stand for a
photograph, if you have no strenuous objection."

Gibson smiled.

"I suppose I'll have to," he said. "How do you want me?"

The photographer, called in from another room, set up his camera.

"One at your desk first, Mr. Gibson," he said.

Gibson drew a small pocket mirror and looked into it, smoothing back the
hair that had irritated John whe