Some of our superiors were indeed men of brains and learning and disinterested goodwill, but some were stuffed shirts, and some incompetents, and some timid souls escaping the fray, and some climbers, and some as bitter and jealous as some of us were at being inadequately appreciated. But still there they were, up in the sunshine above the smoke, a patch-elbowed tweedy elite that we might improve when we joined it, but that we never questioned. Especially during the Depression, when every frog of us was lustful for a lily pad.
The passage reflects on the varied nature of leadership among superiors, highlighting that while some possessed intelligence, goodwill, and expertise, others were merely pretentious, incompetent, or overly cautious. There existed a mix of ambition and jealousy among these leaders, indicating that their roles were often filled with human flaws. This complexity was particularly evident during challenging times like the Great Depression, where many aspired to rise above their circumstances, seeking better opportunities and recognition.
The text illustrates a yearning for advancement and improvement, grounded in the recognition that while the leaders occupied a higher status, they were not immune to insecurity and pettiness. The mention of a "tweedy elite" represents a class of people whose authority might be respected but seldom questioned. The candid acknowledgment of both admiration and criticism among the ranks reflects the broader human experience of navigating ambition and the quest for respect amidst societal challenges.
