Rations & Men

Each in his own way, three men made news last week with their reactions to food rationing :

King of the Gulch. Near Idaho Springs, Colo., shaggy, red-bearded Alex Anderson lived a hermit's life in a mountain cave.

Once in a while he emerged--unkempt but clear-eyed, a prospector's pack on his back, a notched pistol in the homemade holster on his hip--to stalk into town for grub. People left him severely alone: he had dropped a running rabbit at 100 yards with that pistol. They called him "King of the Gulch."

One day the King strode into the Safe way Store, ordered dried beans, evaporated milk, sugar, coffee, Karo syrup. The grocer asked for his ration book. "A ration book, hey?" The suspicious hermit reddened with anger. "I have money to pay for what I need. You have to sell it to me." Not so, retorted the grocer: the King must register. "I'll sign for nothing," shouted the King. "All the book I need is in my gun belt." He drew the pistol, tossed some bills on the counter, scooped up his supplies, backed out.

Last week the law caught up with the King. He walked again to Idaho Springs with no ration book save his shooting iron. The sheriff and two aides ambushed him on Main Street, handcuffed him before he could draw. In jail the King mellowed, read the newspapers--and somewhat caught up with the changed times.

King of the Black Market. In Chicago, Fulton Market buzzed with rumors about Pete Golas. Pete was paunchy (220 lb.), greying (52), scarfaced and vain. He refused to have his picture taken, as he considered a 15-year-old photograph (see cut) his best portrait. Until last fall, he was just a small-time peddler of livers and hearts. From dark meat to black meat was an easy step for Pete. He branched out grandly and mysteriously, bought control of a string of slaughterhouses from Omaha to Manhattan.

Last week a Federal grand jury indicted Pete Golas, ten other men and seven companies for conspiracy to evade price ceilings on meat. OPA investigators said that Pete and his henchmen took $650,000 "cash on the side" while selling $3,000,000 worth of beef in New York and New Jersey. Price Boss Prentiss Brown called Pete the nation's No. 1 meatlegger.

Kingsize Problem. To London last week went hard-working Herbert H. Lehman, U.S. Director of Foreign Relief and Rehabilitation. At the American Embassy a mass of data on the food needs of Axis-conquered countries awaited him. Out of his studies and conferences, Herbert Lehman hoped to get an estimate of how much food the U.S. must supply to help care for 300,000,000 people now in war zones. With such an estimate, the U.S. would understand more clearly how long and severe the critical demand on its food production might be. Certainly the demand will be far greater than current shipments.

The Little Man. Less spectacular citizens did their patient best to get used to rationing. World demands may keep them on coupons for a long time, perhaps years. With customary American optimism, they hoped for the best, meanwhile. Rationing had already turned a critical meat shortage into a surplus.

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