Questions & Answers

No one wanted to be accused of rocking the boat. But no one seemed willing to sit still either.

Last week the nation's newspapers were filled with big, black headlines telling of labor's new wants for 1949. From the sidewalks of New York to the docks of Honolulu, the powerful C.I.O. and its 6,000,000 members were on the march. How far could they march, how much would they demand, in the midst of what Harry Truman called "a declining national economy"?

C.I.O. Economist Robert Nathan, hired to provide the respectability of statistics for labor's case, admitted there could be no such thing as a uniform wage increase this year. Said Nathan: "Some companies and industries can afford much more than others and some few cannot afford any raise and remain in business." Instead of concentrating on more money, most union demands centered on what used to be known as "extras"--health insurance, pensions, etc.

The auto workers, in convention in Milwaukee, voted a $10 million war chest to win from Ford some of the creature comforts of the "welfare state" (see below). Old John Lewis, whose miners have all kinds of welfare already, had put his men on a three-day week to spread the work around.

The man who best symbolized labor's posture in midsummer 1949 was C.I.O. President Phil Murray. As anxious as any labor leader to get what he could for his steelworkers, Murray was in no mood for a strike at this time. After all, steel production was already beginning to exceed demands. The solution he found last week was one that would probably become familiar: turn everything over to labor's good friend, the President. Harry Truman, unable to deliver on his promise to repeal Taft-Hartley, was anxious to be helpful in every way.

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