Mr. Taylor and I

"Once again, Mr. Taylor and I have been able to render a service at a time when it is in the national interest and in a manner that has secured the gracious approval of the President." So John L. Lewis graciously announced to newsmen.

Myron C. Taylor, who stood beside him, did not bat an eye. A few days before, Lewis had described the former Chairman of the Board of U.S. Steel as a stooge of J. P. Morgan. Mr. Taylor's status had changed. Now he was, Lewis proclaimed, "an industrial statesman." Mr. Lewis bowed as he said it.

Imperturbable Mr. Taylor returned the bow, replied: "I am very gratified at the broad and cooperative attitude which Mr. Lewis has displayed. Thank you, Mr. Lewis." "Thank you, Mr. Taylor," purred Lewis. Solemnly they shook hands.

This specious scene, enacted in Washington's Mayflower Hotel, marked the end of the "captive" coal-mine strike. For five days, while almost 53,000 miners had stayed away from their jobs in obedience to their chief, the U.S. had howled its in dignation and called John Lewis anything but "cooperative" (see p. 19}.

Week's beginning had found Mr. Lewis with his jaw jutting, haughty as an old boar. Thrice he had rejected the President's appeals to call off his strike (TIME, Nov. 3). But he agreed to meet with his old friend and enemy, Myron Taylor, to talk about it.

Only issue was Lewis' demand for a union-shop contract in the captive coal mines owned & operated by the country's biggest steel companies. Substantially 90% of the total annual production of bituminous coal in the U.S. was under union-shop contracts. Even an estimated 84% of captive-mine workers who were eligible to join Lewis' union had done so. Some mines were organized 100%. Lewis could not understand why the captive-mine owners balked at a union shop. Actually, Mr. Lewis knew very well why they would not sign up. Steel had fought the union shop tooth & nail. Steel dreaded the union shop as a dairyman dreads contagious abortion.

Completely knotted up over the issue, Lewis and Taylor finally agreed on one thing: they would ask the entire Mediation Board to consider the controversy. Meanwhile the strike would go on. They summoned Board Chairman William H. Davis to tell him about it.

Rumple-haired Mr. Davis had different ideas. By no means should the strike be allowed to go on. Lewis grew belligerent. Davis finally said that he was going to notify the President. Lewis rumbled : "The trouble with you, Davis, is that you're scared to death." Davis retorted: "I'm not scared, and I'm not afraid of you, John, and you know it." Decorous Mr. Taylor hastily suggested that they all go see the President. Mr. Lewis grumpily agreed and they departed for the White House.

When they emerged, it was all fixed. Mr. Lewis would call off his strike. An eleven-man Mediation Board would sit on the dispute, though neither side would be obligated to abide by its findings. The conferees disbanded, Mr. Lewis to meet news men and announce the service which "Mr. Taylor and I" rendered in the national interest, busy Mr. Davis to gather up his board of four labor men, four management men, three representatives of the public. If the wrangle seemed to be right back where it had started, at least the captive mines were back in production, and Mr. Davis, who believes that in time a formula can be found to smooth out any dispute, had won indefinite time to look for the formula which would untie the captive-mine knot.

What was Mediator Davis' chagrin to have Boss Lewis drop a time bomb in his lap at week's end. Mr. Lewis suddenly proclaimed that there would be a deadline to the truce: Nov. 15.

Mr. Davis, by this time a little fed up, wrote back: "I have at this time no reason to doubt that the Board can easily complete its consideration of the dispute . . . some time next week, but . . . the Board will proceed to consider the merits of the dispute carefully, calmly and NOT under pressure."

But so far, cynical, smart Mr. Lewis had won all the major moves. Observers thought he would win the last one, too, finally emerge with the captive mines tucked away in his capacious pocket.

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