There is quite a little difference between the fellow that holds the bag and the fellow that controls the dough. The bankers in America have learned that much lately.
 I have told you before about Bill Bank President.
 You may have known him your­self. He was a great gazebo at one time. He knew your wife and little ones by their middle names.
 When you visited the bank you wouldn’t talk to anybody but Bill.
 You would tell him how much money you wanted to borrow and he would say O. K. Jim.
 Then you left town for several years. Just lately you wanted to bor­row some money and went back to the old town and looked up Bill to get it.
 Wasn’t that a shock?
 To begin with the old town did not seem like it used to. It looked ragged and run down at the hee's. The streets were unkept, the buildings were falling to pieces, and the peo­ple’s clothes were in tatters.
 But even so, you strutted into the old bank and told the doorman with much gusto, “I want to see Bill.”
 “Bill, who?” asked the doorman.
 “Bill Bank President,” says you, haughtily.
 “There is no Bill Bank President here,” said the doorman, “but there is a Bill Clerk. I believe they used to call him Bill Bank President.”
 So you finally met your old friend Bill, but what a metamorphosis. What a pitiful figure he presented as Bill Clerk. Such a hang-dog expression drooped from his faci­al map. Will you ever forget it?
 You said to him, “Bill, I want to borrow a bag full of dough.” Then he said, “Jim, old bozo, I will have to call up old alien in New York about it as he is the fellow who now controls the dough.”
 So you see the man you call Bank President nowadays is only the bill clerk. He goes into the office in the morning and one of the first things he does is to pick up the telephone for New York. Then he says, “Hello, Alien, this is Bill Clerk of Michigan.”
 A gruff voice answers him, saying, “Well what do you want?”
 Says Bill Clerk of Michigan to Alien Fi­nan­cier of New York, “I would like to know what you want us to do today.”
 Then Alien Financier of New York tells him to wait until he calls up the chief in Europe to find out about it.
 So New York Alien calls up Europe and says, “Chief! Bill Clerk of Michigan wants to know what he is to do today.”
 The old Chief of the Alien Financiers scratches his head and drawls, “Michigan! Where is Michigan?”
 “Michigan,” says New York Alien, “is an island out in the middle of the Great Lakes.”
 Then the old Chief in Europe scratches his head again and asks “What sort of creatures live on that island?”
 “They are Michiganders,” says New York Alien.
 “Ganders,” stutters the amazed Chief. “Are they all Ganders out there?”