Weekend Lookover

Driving up to Stoke D'Abernon, the 23-year-old Oxford graduate nervously fingered his blond, bristly mustache. With a good war record behind him (he had lost an eye in a Jap air raid on Burma), he had come to Stoke in search of a peacetime career. A "houseparty" exam at the government's 300-year-old manor house is now the way to get a topflight civil service job in England.

Since its beginning less than three years ago Stoke has examined 2,725 candidates, passed only 608. Though a Conservative M.P. recently complained in the House of Lords that Stoke was turning out "plausible smart alecks," the government's Final Selection Board has accepted Stoke's recommendations nine out of ten times. Foreign service takes all its officers from Stoke; home service still chooses some by written and oral exams. U.S. Civil Service Commissioner Arthur S. Flemming, after watching 21 candidates go through Stoke, returned to the U.S. "definitely impressed." Said he last week: "The ones that survived the test were certainly outstanding. The ones who weren't outstanding didn't get through."

Ballroom Questionnaire. In the quiet grandeur of Stoke's ballroom, the candidates were greeted by Colonel J. R. Pinsent, 59, chairman of Britain's Civil Service Selection Board. Colonel Pinsent invited the candidates to patronize the manor-house bar (Scotch, 30-c- a nip) in their free time, added a warning: "Naturally, if you start wrecking the furniture, we would probably have some doubts as to your fitness for government service."

Examiners pinned a number on the front and back of each man's coat. On the general-information test, the Burma war veteran (who was No. 17) was asked: 1) Who was the Prime Minister of Iran at the beginning of the Azerbaijan dispute? 2) Who was the C.I.O.'s first boss? 3) Who founded the 19th Century science of criminology?*

Fantasy Island. Next morning examiners handed out booklets describing "Fantasy Island," a nonexistent spot 400 miles north of Australia, inhabited jointly by British and Dutch. Each candidate had to face examiners and fellow candidates and answer how he would react to hypothetical administrative problems. No. 17's problem, as governor of Fantasy Island: Jewish D.P.s were being ostracized by their neighbors on the island; should he allow them to set up an all-Jewish community in an area already occupied by Italians? Nervously, No. 17 argued yes. The group voted him down ("It would lead to bloodshed"), but examiners gave him a good mark for the way he handled the discussion.

Later No. 17 had to imagine himself a British consul, addressing an audience of Manhattan Rotarians on the Marshall Plan. After another day of tests, an interview with a psychologist, and tea with Colonel Pinsent, No. 17 returned to London to face the Final Selection Board.

After looking on, U.S. Commissioner Flemming said he would consider a similar plan for the U.S. He didn't think the U.S. would be able to give candidates a weekend at a country manor, but "I think the idea of keeping the applicant under observation for two or three days, of permitting him to demonstrate his personality and capacity for leadership, is a very practical approach."

*Answers: 1) Ibrahim Hakimi, 2) John L. Lewis, 3) Cesare Lombroso.

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