Good & Rich

A gentle rustle of satisfaction animated the starched silks of the ladies of the Fifth Avenue (Manhattan) Baptist Church when the erect, square-shouldered law clerk strode down the aisle to take his seat. "There," they whispered to one another, "is the Good Young Man of our church." And later, when they walked home with their children, they were apt to say: "Winfield, I wish you wouldn't keep your hands in your pockets. He never does."Or, again:"Ulysses, don't hang your head. Stand up straight, as he does."

This was in the Elegant Eighties. A decade passed, and another young man, walking down the same aisle, awakened even gentler, more contented rustlings. For while a church is properly proud of a Good Young Man, no bounds are set to its love of a Good Young Man who is also Rich. And this particular young man was so very Rich, and promised in time to be so incredibly Rich, that all Baptists everywhere thought of him with gushing Christian tenderness.

The young men grew older. At length, one of them grew quite elderly. Last week, the Good Young Man, 66, went to the aid of the Rich Young Man, 55, in a battle in which both Riches and Goodness were of superlative importance.

The specific tasks which Charles Evans Hughes will perform for John Davison Rockefeller Jr. as special counsel in the fight to oust Col. Robert Wright Stewart as Chairman of the Board of Standard Oil of Indiana are not likely to tax his skill. Many another lawyer could-- and probably will--attend to the technical points involved in the battle of proxies. But no other lawyer could bring to the Rockefeller cause such enormous prestige, such widespread confidence.

It was in 1904, when Lawyer Hughes was 42, that prestige and public confidence began to attach themselves to his labors in great quantity. Two state investigations, following each other in quick succession, provided the springboard for his leap into general esteem. To State Senator Frederick C. Stevens of New York he owed his appointment as counsel to the legislative committee investigating the cost of gas. The gas companies had fixed it at $1 per null cubic feet, declared the figure could not be slashed. Counsel Hughes proved that 80-c- was ample. The reports and bills he drafted were upheld by the courts and led to the naming of a commission to control the state's lighting industry.

Scarcely had he finished this crusade when he plunged into another. Never had New York read more scandalous and shocking testimony than Lawyer Hughes uncovered in the Armstrong Insurance Investigation. Riddled with greed and corruption, the insurance companies had become a public menace. Hughes exposed their practices and then, from the pinnacle of the Governorship to which his crusading had lifted him, put through a code of laws designed to be a permanent safeguard.

From the Executive Mansion at Albany he vaulted to the U. S. Supreme Court. Between October 1910 and June 1916 he wrote 150 majority opinions. In only nine instances was there dissent in the Court, in only three cases did more than one of his associates dissent. On 30 occasions he was allied with the minority opinion; twice he dissented alone.

On the evening of Nov. 8, 1916, Mr. Hughes brushed his whiskers first to one side and then to the other, as is his habit in moments of excitement. But he went to bed early, leaving orders not to be disturbed, before he knew certainly whether he had become President of the U. S. or given up his seat in the Supreme Court for nothing. In the morning, he knew he had lost. For the next four years he re turned to his private practice and took part in many of the outstanding legal battles of the post-War period. He helped the Department of Justice investigate U. S. airplane production. He was on the side of Prohibition, drafting the brief in behalf of 21 States asking dismissal of Rhode Island's suit to test the constitutionality of the 18th Amendment. Two great companies (American Woolen Co., Armour & Co.) he defended against Lever Act charges of profiteering.

Four years (1921-25) as Secretary of State again interrupted his practice. Of late he has undoubtedly turned down more cases than he has accepted. He would have nothing to do with the Sacco-Vanzetti case.

Special Counsel Hughes will ponder the ethics and intricacies of the Rockefeller-Stewart fight in an office high up over lower Broadway, Manhattan. His 17th-story window just overtops the crusted spire of historic Trinity Church. Spacious, highceilinged, the room is furnished in comfortable luxury. Lawyer Hughes may sink his feet into a thick oriental rug. He may offer Mr. Rockefeller, or any other caller, a seat in a deep tan armchair or on an over-stuffed tan lounge. He him self, of course, requires no such cushion ing. Firm, erect, his keen eyes peering through unrimmed pince-nez, he sits bolt upright in an uncushioned straightback chair.