bank’s record in lending to “low-income”rnborrowers, a regulatory code word forrnblacks, would come under careful scrutiny.rnIf Fleet did not pass the quota test,rnthe Fed would reject its application.rnMarks noted that Fleet wasn’t lendingrndirectly in Boston’s minority-dominatedrnRoxbury, Dorchester, and South Endrnareas. Instead, it backed other mortgagerncompanies that lent at higher rates. Discrimination!rnhe cried. Why shouldrnsome have to pay higher rates than others?rnWell, in a loan market, bad creditrnrisks don’t get any money, and marginalrnborrowers pay higher rates to match thernhigher risk. This kind of economic rationale,rnhowever, no longer has any placernin America, even though blacks, on average,rnhave lower incomes, fewer assets,rnless-stable job histories, and worse creditrnratings than whites.rnMarks first looked for some black residentsrnof Boston who were convincedrnthe white man was ripping them off, notrnexactly the toughest job in the world.rnThen he got some left-wing reporters tornmake the usual fuss, and eventually thernstory was featured by the Pravda of liberalrnjournalism, 60 Minutes. In response,rnFleet agreed to stop purchasing loansrnfrom lenders in the inner city with higherrninterest rates, but that wasn’t enough.rnMarks wanted Fleet itself to make badrnloans at low interest rates—and to givernhis organization a pile of dough.rnBoston’s Fed tried to arrange a meetingrnwith Fleet officials so Marks couldrnhand them his “Put all your cash in thisrnbag” note. To their credit, Fleet executivesrnrefused, and that’s when the realrntrouble began. Over two years, Marks’srnband of urban guerrillas invaded companyrnmeals, meetings, press conferences,rnand speeches. Once Marks and hisrnunion goons barged into a hearing of thernSenate Banking Committee and sangrnspirituals at the top of their voices, perhapsrnincluding the old favorite “SwingrnLow, Sweet Moolah.” For this occasion,rnMarks wore a “Wanted for Loansharking”rnT-shirt with Fleet Chairman TerrencernMurray’s picture on it.rnIt was the sort of display that makesrnexecutives cower, politicians swoon, andrnregulators cheer, and in the end, afterrnmore pressure from the Fed and thernmedia. Fleet gave Marks $140 million. Itrnalso agreed to set aside $7.2 billion forrn”low-income” borrowers who wouldn’trnqualify by normal standards, plus anothmillionrnfor “inner-city borrowerrners” who make deadbeats look good.rnThe story ended with a Capitol Hillrnpress conference. Marks hailed the “boldrnand innovative” new lending programrnand tossed a hatchet into a papier-macherncoffin to symbolize that, $140 millionrnand all, he was now satisfied. Of course,rnMarks had actually buried the hatchet inrnthe hearts of Fleet’s stockholders andrnof the credit-worthy customers whornwould now not get loans. Another setrnof victims were the 3,000 employeesrncanned one month later.rnFleet’s management turned out to berncowardly, but the holdup never wouldrnhave worked without a Federal Reserverndriver at the wheel of the getaway car.rnOnce again, the government, special interests,rnand the welfare class ganged uprnon a company and the middle class.rnThat’s the welfare state in a nutshell.rn—Llewellyn H. Rockwell, ]r.rnEUGENE lONESCO’S DEATH onrnMarch 28 was hardly noticed by thernAmerican press. While European newspapersrnran two-page spreads on thernrenowned playwright—whom they variouslyrnreferred to as “prince of the absurd,”rn”dynamiter of conformisms,”rn”genial dramatist,” “old child,” andrn”melancholy watchman”—the New YorkrnTimes marked the event with only a standardrnobituary. But alas, outside of introductoryrnFrench classes, lonesco has forrnyears now been neglected in the UnitedrnStates.rnlonesco, who won the Ingersoll Foundation’srnT.S. Eliot Award for CreativernWriting in 1985, was born in Slatina,rnRomania, on November 26, 1909—rnalthough he claimed 1912 as his birthrnyear, so as to have made his fame by thernage of 40. His father was Romanian, hisrnmother French, and he spent his earlyrnyears in France. In 1922, he returned tornRomania, where he attended high schoolrnand college. In 1936, he married RodicarnBurileanu, with whom he relocated (permanently,rnthis time) to France duringrnWorld War II. They had one daughter,rnMarie-France. Although he had dabbledrnat writing since his youth, lonescorndid not begin his nonetheless productiverncareer in letters until 1950, with the productionrnof his play “The Bald Soprano”rnat the Theatre des Noctambules. Hisrnbreakthrough came in 1960 with the productionrnof “Rhinoceros,” which was enthusiasticallyrnreceived on both sides ofrnthe Atlantic. In all, lonesco wrote somern30 plays, as well as a novel, short stories,rndramatic theory, children’s fairy tales,rnand several books of memoirs. He alsornpainted and produced lithographs,rnactivities he preferred, in his later years,rnto writing. lonesco’s literary accomplishmentsrndid not go unnoticed bvrnFrance’s cultural establishment: inrn1970, he was elected to the AcademicrnFrangaise and, in 1991, his collectedrnplays were published in the elitern”Pleiade” edition.rnIn his plays, lonesco strove to return tornthe sources of theater. Rejecting thern”social realism” of more ideological playwrightsrnlike Sartre and Brecht, he soughtrnto delve deeper into the more fundamentalrnreality of universal man’s dreams,rnobsessions, and fears. His tools in thisrnendeavor were banality, caricature, exaggeration,rnparody, repetition, illogicality,rnviolence, symbolism, puns, rhythm, gesture,rnand props. Following the modernrnpainters who had rediscovered and rejuvenatedrnpainting by reducing scenes andrnobjects to their most basic units, lonescornaimed at purifying drama by pullingrnapart conventional characters and breakingrndown false theatrical idioms. Whilernthis style is often termed “Theater ofrnthe Absurd,” he preferred the labelrn”Theater of Derision”; he argued thatrnlife is by nature absurd (as well as tragic)rnand that the best way to reveal absurdityrnis through derision. “[T]he comic isrntragic,” he wrote in an essay entitled “Experiencernof the Theater,” and “therntragedy of man is pure derision.” Thisrnconception of drama was influenced byrnthe Punch and Judy shows that he enjoyedrnas a young child in the LuxembourgrnGardens in Paris: “It was the veryrnimage of the world that appeared to me,rnstrange and improbable but truer thanrntrue, in the profoundly simplified formrnof caricature, as though to stress therngrotesque and brutal nature of therntruth,” he later noted.rnlonesco’s dramatic explorations of thisrntruth met with criticism from both thernright and the left. lonesco was often dismissedrnas a joker; he was also frequentlyrndisdained for his lack of a social or politicalrnconscience. Kenneth Tynan andrnGeorge Orwell, for example, criticizedrnhim (in a series of exchanges in the LondonrnObserver in the late 1950’s) for hisrninaction in society and his abdication ofrnpolitics; lonesco’s refusal to take part inrnthe ideological battles of the Cold Warrnera was, in their eyes, tantamount to surrender.rnThe playwright’s response tornsuch detraction illustrated his deep un-rn6/CHRONICLESrnrnrn