The Carrot, the Stick

The U.S. Treasury's 19 advertising and promotion men under able, talkative Max B. Cook, of Scripps-Howard, had done their dazzling best to coax, lure, bewitch, shove, smash and plaster U.S. citizens into buying $15 billion in war bonds. Promoter Cook and staff used every trick in the bag -- and thought up new ones. Audaciously they even had Secretary Morgenthau wangle a bond plug from Joseph Stalin (". . . help the joint efforts of the Allies to achieve victory" -- see p. 36). Their goal this time: the "little man," as most war bonds thus far have been bought by corporations, banks, insurance companies.

But as the final week of the Third War Loan Drive began, though big investors had oversubscribed their allotted $10 billion, the little man lagged, had pledged only 56% of the $5 billion expected.

With the drive ending Oct. 2, the House Ways & Means Committee planned a meeting for Oct 4. Purpose: to measure U.S. taxpayers for a brand-new set of taxes. Treasury Secretary Morgenthau bluntly gave the little man a choice: ". . . the voluntary way of buying war bonds--or compulsory savings."

Seven unhappy shipyard workers huddled on a raft near Portland, Ore., tired, hungry and cold. They were down to two days' chocolate rations. Within yoo-hoo distance floated the Coast Guard, sternly refusing them food, blankets, sympathy.

The seven had vowed to live on shipwreck rations until Oregon made its $104 million war-bond quota. But Oregon stuck fast at 62%, with $40 million to go. The raft-sitters got no pity. Small boys on the river bank tauntingly waved hot dogs and ice-cream cones at them. Older folks heckled: "Why aren't you fellows at work?" Said one morose raft-sitter: "We'll stay here till Hell freezes over if it helps sell bonds. But if not, we want to know. We're sure ready to get off."

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