1956

The Old Man
The Old Man walked into the room, his legs aching in pain. Their stood a portrait of his junior, his successor, a man who had long ago, it seems, died of infirmary. Yet, the Old Man lived on. His contemporaries, his so-called "followers" were expecting the end. But the Old Man would not go so quietly. He would devote himself to the people who had so often expressed hatred and distrust of him.

The True Man
The True Man was on top of the world. Sure he was older than dirt, but everyone loved him again. With the love of the written word, his "constituents" had praised him once more, these short years since his leadership. He entered the room grinning at the painting of his predecessor, the man who got him where he was today, and felt every bit grateful. With a "Huzzah" he handed his luggage to an aide and headed off to venues unknown.

The Powerful Man
The Man of Power had entered the room in a frenzy. It was not the upcoming potential power change that struggle, he was more than positive that The Shoeless Man would lose, it was his enemies to the east. Although he exerted power over his own, and of those to the immediate West, he was more than equaled, some say, by this ravenous beast of a union. Unlike the days of yore, he could not lead his charges to attack, but must act like a rat, a snake. He looked at the painting of his former CO as a chill entered the room.

The Beautiful Man
This Man of arguable Beauty was rushed into the room, under the watchful eye of The Portrait Man. His staff worked feverishly to relieve him of his pain, but it was no use. The Man who would be so admired in the upcoming years, was practically dying from the pain. To think that The Shoeless Man would even consider him an appropriate second man, likely for his work in the Big House, was almost laughable at this point. Like The True Man, his words were the only thing that made him noticeable at this point.

The Texas Man
The Texas Man, although from a different faction than that of his chief executive, worked on passing that Man's agenda. This was on the top of his mind as he made a brief repast in this room with a portrait. He made a glance ahead, his mind briefly wandering where his career may or may never reach. Regardless, he was the Big Man in the Big House, and did not need the burdens of a higher power. He exited the room as quickly as he entered.

The Political Man
The Man of Politics saw his way into the empty room, sans the portrait of someone he barely knew. He was too young and only knew of the man through reputation. Looking into the room he carefully glanced for any item of ill-intent, and was assisted in this task by some very mean lieutenants. When all were satisfied that the room was unobtrused, they began their plotting and scheming. All the while, The Portrait Man watched on.

The Modest Man
The Modest Man from the Modest House entered the Modest Room. He half-thought about saluting this man of another faction, but knew better, and sat down to continue his Modest Work. Modestly, he modified a Modest Proposal. Most importantly, he mulled a minute on military matters. He then made his exit in the most miniscule way a man can most often do. Except when he tripped over a chair.

The Christian Man
The Man of Christ entered the room hoping to have some time for prayer. He had hoped a few minutes of solitude would help bring back some focus, some drive that he had not felt since his days amongst the seven seas. Tilling the soil did not give him the pleasure he sought. He opened his eyes and, lo and behold, saw the image of a man he had once admired. "I will be like him," thought The Christian Man, leaving with praises at the new direction in life.

The Performing Man
The Performing Man, once a Man of 1,000 Faces, entered the room, seeking a reprieve from his obligations. He was stuck in a box, both literally and figuratively, that he did not prefer, and could not or would not spread his wings. He saw the looming Portrait, but was not threatened by this Man, who the Performer knew was too weak for their shared enemies. He was sure his health and stamina made him much more powerful than this Man, but felt that the world had been boxed in as of late.

The Company Man
This Company Man, consistently around Company People, had walked into this room by mistake. His son had wandered off, and he was worried that the busy area would lead to dangers of its own, even in this area of the land. Glancing at the corners of the room, the Man stopped to ponder the Portrait. Why was this Man even remembered above the current Powerful Man? He could not grasp the meaning, but knew he must assist in the SAR.

The Poor Man
The Poor Man, really just a boy at this time, loved his vacations, few and far between at the time. Wearing his daddy's coat, whom he never knew but missed, the Poor Boy walked by an odd door. Willing, but unable to enter he saw Big Men in Big Suits surround the Big Door. What an odd situation? he pondered as he wished he had the ability to stand up to those "meanies."

The Stuttering Man
The Stutterer had gone lost, but was found. Where was he to go, he did not know, but it could not be good. The torture of non-knowledge was non-bearable but he was a tough-guy. He entered the room where old Poppy was and nodded his head in shame. But not before catching the glimpse of a funny looking old man with white hair on the wall. What a weird guy that musta been.

The Next Man
The room opened up once more that day. The man who entered, whether he was a twenty year old man of the seas, or a not-yet-born child of less than noble legitimacy, has yet to be revealed.