No. 2 Man

When Alan Valentine moved into Washington as Economic Stabilizer last fall, he told the press: "It doesn't matter what happens to Valentine--I'm expendable." Last week, just three months and two days later, Alan Valentine was expended (see above), establishing some sort of record.

Valentine's successor was already waiting in the wings. Energetic Eric Johnston had arranged a nine-month leave of absence from his job as chief of the Motion Picture Association of America (with the probability of further leave, if necessary), and put in a requisition for a Government desk close to Charlie Wilson's office in Washington's grubby old State Department building.

Pepsodent Smile. The $17,500 post was Eric Johnston's first Government job. But he was no stranger to the national stage. He had first flashed on to the scene in the late 1930s, a handsome, vigorous young industrialist at war with the air of uneasiness and discomfort then clouding the American business world. A capitalist who was willing to preach capitalism when other U.S. businessmen were hiding behind slogans and cursing the New Deal, he had built four businesses of his own in the Pacific Northwest, then rode out to champion the cause of business, small and large, across the nation.

He was a lean, trim man with a Pepsodent smile and a face that reminded feature writers of Robert Taylor, and he moved fast. Johnston was only 46 when the U.S. Chamber of Commerce in 1942 elected him its president, the youngest in its history. He kept on preaching, urging the old guard to recognize the reality of the New Deal and labor's growth, preaching to labor the way of fruitful cooperation with management.

He spoke along the Kiwatiians-Elks-Rotarians circuit in more than 500 U.S. cities and towns. He sat on 22 civilian advisory boards and committees for the Government during World War II, earned the Medal for Merit from the Government for his nationwide labor-management cooperation program during the war. Johnston traveled to other parts of the world, toured Russia, became one of the rare U.S. private citizens officially invited to confer with Stalin. It was not long before Eric Johnston was being talked about as a possible Senator, even a possible Republican contender for the presidency.

On the Fringe. Johnston did not capitalize on his political potentialities. In 1945 he settled into the presidency of Hollywood's Motion Picture Association of America as successor to Movie Czar Will Hays. Except for occasional public speeches and a few minor excursions into the headlines when he was involved in complicated movie deals with the British, he seemed content to stay on the fringe of public life.

But last week Eric Johnston flashed back into the center of things again. Still, at 55, startlingly handsome and vigorous, he brought some impressive qualifications to his new job. He was more than ever the brisk and confident negotiator, administrator and mediator, a man who had the confidence of business, labor, and the Administration which felt need of his services. He was a polished, persuasive speaker, a man who knew how to roll with a punch, a well-traveled executive with the capacity for vast acquaintanceship which is essential for public life.

They were all qualities he would need for a job that was guaranteed in advance to turn all but the smoothest, most surefooted administrator into the most unpopular man in the U.S. But if Eric Johnston fluffed the job, it would not be because he lacked authority to act.

This week President Truman drafted an executive order giving the Economic Stabilizer clear and far-reaching powers. His authority extended not only to prices and wages, but to policy on rents, credit controls, taxation and just about every corner of the U.S. economy. The new powers would make him Mobilizer Wilson's No. 2 man in fact as well as name.

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