Nickel Counter

Of all the civilians who ever came to work in the five-ring circus of the Pentagon, none was more roundly disliked as a matter of principle than handsome, brainy Wilfred James McNeil. The reason was understandable enough: McNeil, hand-picked in 1947 by Defense Secretary James Forrestal to be the new National Military Establishment's first comptroller, had the job of supervising the drawing up and spending of the defense budget. He was the man who had to slice the budgetary pie among the three services--each of which naturally wanted the biggest piece --and then explain and defend the budget before Congress, the Cabinet, and the National Security Council.

Last week Wilfred McNeil, 58, burdened with the problem of supporting the five children (all under eight years old) of his Navy flyer son, who was killed recently in a carrier crash (another son is an Air Force B-52 pilot), turned in his resignation. Then he announced that in November he will become president of Grace Line Inc.

An Eye for Fat. It was a mark of his achievements, in the careful handling of no less than $375 billion, that Washington and the Pentagon hated to see him go. Said New Hampshire's Senator Styles Bridges: "Wilfred McNeil literally has saved the taxpayers of America billions of dollars. And yet comparatively few people in this country have ever heard of him." Wrote President Eisenhower last week to "Dear Mac": "All Americ?, joins me in saying to you, well done!"

In the days when the interservice fighting for dollars got bitter, McNeil, a reserve World War II rear admiral (fiscal affairs), was accused of having a dark influence over his bosses, of unfairly favoring the Navy over the other services. But over the years, Pentagon brass, as well as congressional committees, learned that he cut dispassionately wherever he thought he saw fat. And his best defense against any outcry was that he knew more about budgetary details than anybody else.

By questioning almost every item that went through his office ("If it's to cost a nickel, then the nickel must go through here"), Iowa-born Wilfred McNeil, who never finished high school, got the services to squeeze out hundreds of millions of dollars a year in savings. Example: after his "road agents" (field investigators) found that airplane maintenance was improving, he told the Air Force to quit stocking 2.5 airplanes in spare parts for every operational plane, pared the figure to 1.1.

A Nose for Starvation. He showed the breadth of his fiscal shrewdness when he returned the $6.6 million Vanguard program to the Navy and said: "Figure it out again. You're way too low. I think it will be over $100 million." Final cost of the trouble-trailed Vanguard program: $110 million.

Another Pentagon resignation in the making: Secretary of Defense Neil McElroy, who last May postponed his leave-taking after the death of Assistant Secretary Donald Quarles. McElroy, who spent much of his 27 months in office on far-ranging inspection tours, will make time to get just one more trip under his belt--to Alaska, Honolulu, the western Pacific and the Orient--before slipping back in late December to Procter & Gamble.

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