Corporations

Last week the following newsworthy corporations made the following news:

Melon. "This is the Columbia Broadcasting System. The advertisers who pay for the programs you listen to morning, noon and night bought more time on the world's largest single broadcasting chain in October than in any previous month of our history. We billed them $1,700,000, which was 56% more than in October last year. And in the first ten months of the year we billed our customers for more than $11,000,000 worth of time--a 55% increase over the same period of last year.

"That may not mean much to members of the radio audience but it means a lot to us, particularly to our president, William Samuel Paley. Bill Paley is not only the man who built up Columbia from a losing proposition with 16 stations to a highly profitable coast-to-coast system with 102 stations. Bill Paley is our largest stockholder.

"You all know the story of how Bill Paley at 28 sold out a one-half interest in Columbia to Paramount-Publix for $5,000,000. and then when Paramount was pinched for cash generously bought it back for the original sum plus $200,000.

"Our assets, you know, are only $6,000,000, yet last year we made a profit of nearly $1,000,000. and the way things are going, our directors will probably declare a 50% stock dividend when they meet next week. This is the Columbia Broadcasting System."

No announcement like that went out over the Columbia network last week. But if Columbia's President Paley had desired to advertise himself and his company in this manner, he would have been well within the facts.

Tire Trouble. Kelly-Springfield Tire Co. made its name with an advertisement in which an elegant gentleman in a roadster, passing an unfortunate motorist with a flat tire, sings out breezily: "That happened to me once before I began to use Kelly-Springfield!" But Kelly-Springfield's name was always bigger than its business. Even before the profitless little company was recapitalized two years ago, a fight developed between its stockholders and its management. The stockholders blamed the management for Kelly-Springfield's troubles. The management blamed Depression. A third group, the noteholders, stayed out of the argument until last week. Then, fearful lest the company's large annual loss make it impossible for them to collect anything, the noteholders applied to a Jersey City court for the appointment of a receiver.

Confronted with this unexpected crisis, the stockholders and the management suddenly joined forces, rushed into court together to keep their company out of receivership. Their grounds for challenging the noteholders' application: although the company has lost money, its condition is financially sound.

Man from London. Boston's crusty, septuagenarian Banker Frederick Henry Prince seldom goes to London. Abroad, he transacts his British business by telephone from Paris. Three weeks ago the largest stockholder of Armour & Co. jiggled the telephone in his Paris home, called for the London office of Robert Hervey Cabell, European manager of that famed old packing company. Both had just received news of the death of Armour's President Thomas George Lee in Chicago (TIME, Nov. 19).

Asked Mr. Prince: "Do you happen to be going to the States soon, Cabell?"

Replied Mr. Cabell: "Not that I know of. I only go when I'm called for." Next day Mr. Prince telephoned again. Had Mr. Cabell been called for yet? Yes, a cable had arrived from Chicago that day. Then, said Mr. Prince, would Mr. Cabell join him on the Majestic? Gladly. Before the Majestic docked in New York Mr. Cabell learned that he was Mr. Prince's candidate to succeed Lee.

When Armour's board of directors met in Chicago last week to carry out Mr. Prince's wishes, they could not elect Mr. Cabell president. He was not a director, hence ineligible. But they did elect him general manager, and every Armourman expected him to be made a director at the stockholders' meeting next January and automatically assume the title of president. Mr. Prince, already chairman of the finance committee, had himself elected, chairman of the board of directors.

Pre-eminently a salesman, Armour's new head, 64, has been with the company for 43 years. From a meat peddler in the Baltimore division, he rose to be sales director for the Atlantic seaboard, then department manager at Chicago headquarters. In his 21 years as boss of Armour's European business, he has acquired British manners, a British accent and grey hair.

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