Ducks or Dodos?

Last week the nation's shipyards celebrated National Maritime Day, anniversary of the Savannah's maiden trip in 1819--across the Atlantic with sails and steam-driven paddle wheels. The U.S. launched 27 vessels in Maritime Day's 24 hours. Whether Jerry Land's ships were ducks to be shot at or dodos doomed to extinction after the war by Grover Loening's air fleet, they were the immediate answer.

Up & down the East and West and Gulf Coasts they plopped into the water. In Boston optimistic Jerry Land spouted facts that could bring no joy to the Nazis. The U.S., said he, had already reached one goal: delivery of two ships a day. By next fall, he promised three a day. Working overtime were 60 shipyards, two-thirds of them (with capacity of 295 ways) devoted to building oceangoing merchant vessels.

In World War I the U.S. succeeded in building ships in 234 days. In this war the standard building time has been brought down to 105 days, one yard has made a record of 74 days, and sights are already set on 48 days (TIME, May 25).

The biggest criticism of Jerry Land is that he has had too many jobs--building the ships, and operating them. Even Land admitted that his multisided job was too big for any one man. It reminded him of an advertisement in a small-town newspaper, he cracked: "Wanted--a good barber who can play third base and the slide trombone." Last week his two egos were finally separated. In charge of shipbuilding for some time has been his alter ego, Rear Admiral Howard L. Vickery. Last week he got another deputy to handle ship operations. Lewis William Douglas was appointed to tackle the job of utilizing cargo space wisely & well.

Innovator. Since February, when he was asked to serve as an adviser to Land, Douglas has been butting his head against walls, aching for authority. Arizona-born, 47-year-old Lew Douglas admits that the only ships he knows very much about are prairie schooners. But he is versatile. He had never been in the Army before, but as an artillery lieutenant he won a citation from General Pershing during World War I. He had never been a Federal budget director before he went in for Franklin Roosevelt--then broke with him when the President paid no attention to balancing the budget. He had never headed a big life-insurance company before he became president of Mutual Life.

An innovator, a skilled administrator, he is a man tough of hide and mind. He parts his thin ribbons of hair precisely in the center of his head; gave up smoking cigarets, now chews (gum). In his new job, he will have plenty to chew on.

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