The Battle of Reconversion

In Washington last week the battle of reconversion was as clearly drawn as on a general's map: how much cash per week should the Government pay to workers laid off by peace?

Two New Deal Senators, Harley M. Kilgore of West Virginia and James E. Murray of Montana, backed by labor's legions (C.I.O., A.F. of L., and the National Farmers Union) ordered a grand-scale attack. They demanded that the Federal Government pay a top unemployment compensation of $35 a week for 104 weeks (to a man with three dependents who had been earning $48 or more). Most of this would come right out of the Federal Treasury, as a gift.

Many Senators reeled at the thought. But Senator Kilgore cheerfully noted that "it is impossible to spend too much to avoid a catastrophic depression," and cheerfully estimated the unemployment compensation cost at $8 billion for three years. (Others put it much higher.) While many Senators privately agreed that $8 billion would be cheap enough if it did avert a major depression, they had no confidence in New Deal management; they suspected the U.S. would get rid of $8 billion without getting rid of depression.

Georgia's grey Walter F. George had a considerably more modest plan to cushion the U.S. worker against a postwar depression. He proposed that each state fix its own scale of unemployment compensation (which at present ranges from $2-a-week minimum in Alabama to $22-a-week maximum in Connecticut), and that the states continue to foot the bill. The Federal Government would step in only if a state could not meet all payments; then it would lend, not give funds.

Bocage Country. Besides the $35-a-week top, the Murray-Kilgore group had plenty of explosive ammunition. They also proposed a vocational training program for idle workers, with a top $35-a-week allowance while going to school, a travel allowance to return to a peacetime job or to get a new job, and innumerable new Federal bureaus to handle unemployment machinery. Shrewdly, Walter George captured the most sure-fire of this ammunition--a modified educational training program and a travel allowance (not exceeding $200)--and added it to his own bill.

Thus strengthened, the conservatives moved up for the final battle. On their side were all the Republicans (save North Dakota's lone corporal, Bill Langer) and a solid regiment of Southern Democrats.

Artillery Barrage. Making an earnest defense of his bill, Senator Kilgore argued that high unemployment payments now really mean low unemployment payments later, because purchasing power is increased.

Cried Michigan's Arthur J. Vandenberg: "You might as well argue that a man can drink himself sober."

Trumpeted Maryland's Millard Tydings: "Continuing the spending of money we haven't got is sheer demagoguery."

Vermont's sane, usually unexcitable Warren R. Austin declared: "It would then be just another step until the nation reached a state of national socialism."

Fighting a losing battle, Senator Kilgore called up all reserves, sent swarms of C.I.O. lobbyists through the Senate corridors to buttonhole all Senators. Supporters of the Kilgore bill even talked--but only talked--of calling for help from the Commander in Chief, Franklin Roosevelt. But the unpleasant memory of Franklin Roosevelt's heavy and largely ineffective spending from 1933 to 1939 was too strong.

Forced to make an elastic withdrawal, Senator Kilgore moved to lower his $35 maximum to $25. The strategy failed. The George bill won, by a thumping margin, 55-19.

Now the armies moved to the House, where the first obstacle was stubborn old "Muley" Doughton of North Carolina, chairman of the House Ways and Means Committee. Aware of the explosive political possibilities, Muley Doughton was combing the books for every variety of delaying action.

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