"More for the Money"

Month ago, an epidemic of sword swallowing started through the instinctively Republican ranks of businessmen. A frequent remark, especially in suburban and junior-executive circles: "I hate Roosevelt's guts, but I'll vote for him sooner than for Taft or Dewey." The reason for the epidemic was Adolf Hitler, who had reawakened in America the dormant sensation of patriotism. And President Roosevelt, by his aggressive rearmament policy, had begun to deflect the U. S. businessman's hatred of the New Deal toward Berlin. Young Republicans mistrusted Roosevelt, but they mistrusted the bumbling, obsolete, Chamberlainesque rituals of their Party's Old Guard even more.

These young Republican businessmen did not enjoy their dilemma. Sword swallowing hurt. So last week in Philadelphia they took the Republican Convention into their own hands, pushed aside the Old Guard, nominated their own candidate, and set about creating a political party of their own.

"I nominate him," said Indiana's Congressman Charley Halleck, "because he understands business. He is one of the most successful managers in the country." If Wendell Willkie, for the last seven years president of Commonwealth & Southern Corp., is elected President of the U. S. in November, he will be the first American to step into the office direct from a business job. New Dealish Columnist Samuel Grafton of the New York Post thus summarized the convention: "Instead of using the Republican Party as a professional instrument for carrying out their will, they (anti-Roosevelt business interests) have expropriated the Party and decided to do the job themselves."

Yet Wendell Willkie neither looks (he is soft-collared, mussy) nor talks (he is articulate) like a businessman, and before Philadelphia, businessmen were far from unanimous about him. Within his own utility industry (which has never been able to agree on a spokesman), many a big holding-company executive either backed a rival candidate at the convention or stood aloof. What put him over was the younger, more or less progressive, executive-suburban group in all industries ($4,000 and an Oldsmobile up) who, with the enthusiastic help of their wives, were not too politically cynical to get out and fight for their man.

Once he was nominated, business as a whole began lining up behind him with the same enthusiasm. The New York Stock Exchange, with utility stocks opening up three points, traded 660,000 shares in its first hour (previous day's total: 441,000). The New York Journal of Commerce exulted, "To the business community, the nomination of Mr. Willkie spells a new era," and predicted a more confident policy among purchasing agents. More significant was the way individual businessmen took fire. Monsanto Chemical Co.'s Edgar Monsanto Queeny asked his board of directors for a leave of absence until November to work for Willkie's election, was refused, compromised by going on half-time and half-pay. Sloss-Sheffield Steel & Iron Co.'s Hugh Morrow announced he would raise an army of 30,000 Willkie campaign volunteers. Other typical Willkie enthusiasts: Wall Street Lawyer Arthur A. Ballantine, Armstrong Cork Co.'s President Henning Webb Prentis Jr., Chrysler Corp. Director Harold Elstner Talbott Jr., Southern Railway President Ernest E. Norris. In the industrial South, businessmen's private talk indicated that many an anti-New Deal Democrat would break ranks for Willkie. Lesser-known backers who typify the kind of businessman Willkie represents: Brother Herman Frederick Willkie, Louisville vice president of Distillers Corp.-Seagrams, a production man; Brother Robert Willkie, his assistant; Brother Edward E. Willkie of Chicago, vice president in charge of the salmon division of Libby, McNeil & Libby. All four Willkies went to Philadelphia last week, were photographed together, gave their collective weight as 900 lb.

Not until the campaign is well along will it be clear just what, as President, Willkie could or would do for U. S. business. Die-hard Old Guards were still grumbling last week at his endorsement of many a New Deal reform. New Dealers pointed out that if rearmament is to proceed, no candidate can make an honest campaign issue of budget balancing or lower taxes. But Wall Street believed (in the words of Financial Writer Ralph Hendershot) that Willkie "will get more for the Government's money." And thousands of U. S. businessmen, turning their backs on President Roosevelt for what they hoped was the last time, felt a great psychological release. Even if they must undergo more regimentation for Defense than they have for Depression, the regimenter will be no landed-gentry reformer, but one of their own kind.

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