Performance

John Lewis, last of the great ham tragedians of politics, strode to the witness stand with long, measured steps: one-two-three-four. He bowed twice, sat down, sighed. Two tiny spring flowers, one white, one lavender, peeped from the lapel of his flowing black coat. His broad jowls were momentarily at rest, his eyebrows arched like innocent cupid's bows. Under subpoena by the Truman Committee, John Lewis had appeared gladly. There he sat, as guileless and patient as a volcano. He was ready to explain his threat of a coal strike.

First, what about absenteeism? "In my opinion. . . ." John Lewis cleared his throat with a significantly explosive harrumph. "In my opinion absenteeism is a question that runs through the human equation. . . . I have been told that absenteeism is higher in Congress than it is in industry." He leaned a little forward and added, with a slight, royal gesture of his labor boss's sceptre, a cigar: "I notice that absenteeism prevails on this committee this morning. . . ."

Chairman Harry S. Truman looked like a man who had expected the worst but not so soon. The missing Senators, he said, were busy working on another problem. Chairman Truman forced a chill smile. "I thought you might have some concrete statement that would be helpful. . . ."

"Yes," said John Lewis in solemn basso. "We have to fight this war with human beings. Human beings are subject to all the ills to which the flesh is heir. . . ."

Inflation Inflated. The committee tried another tack. Would the witness admit that wage increases were inflationary? With majestic patience, he would not. On the contrary, the greatest danger to price controls was the Government's "excessive rewards to industry for producing war commodities."

There was always the excess-profits tax, said Maine's Senator Ralph O. Brewster. "We still hope the rich will not get richer out of this war."

"Hope deferred maketh the heart sick," rumbled John Lewis.

"You are a disciple of discontent with things as they are, Mr. Lewis," said Senator Brewster. "Haven't you been throughout your life?"

"A misapprehension," chanted Mr. Lewis softly.

"Well," said the Senator, "are you ready as a patriotic American to cooperate with everyone else who is seeking to hold the dikes against inflation?"

"Oh, my dear Senator, I'd be very happy if anything I could do could help hold the dike."

Came the turn of Ohio's Senator Har old H. Burton. "If we restrain industry and finance, then you are willing to work on holding down the wages?" The Lewis jowls quivered and broke into a sly grin. "Will you telephone me?" Senator Burton retreated in haste.

Insult Returned. John Lewis knit his thunderous brows and growled: "One way to get cooperation is to give the workers of this country enough to eat. . . ."

"That's demagoguery pure and sim ple!" shouted Minnesota's young Senator Joe Ball. "You are not seriously trying to tell the committee that any large number of workers in the United States don't get enough to eat?"

The volcano erupted. John Lewis roared: "When you call me a demagogue before I can reply I hurl it back in your face, sir. When you ask me are the coal miners hungry I say yes, and when you call me a demagogue I say you are less than a proper representative of the com mon people of this country. . . ." Snapped Chairman Truman: "We don't stand for any sassy remarks. I don't like that remark to a member of this com mittee."

"Who," asked Lewis, with righteous dignity, "cast the first stone?"

The committee moved on to Lewis' wage demand. Like a man begging humbly for guidance, Lewis told them he was in a dilemma. His men were now underground 53 hours, got paid for only the 42 they spent at the coal facing. But recently a New Orleans court, in a case involving iron miners, had ruled that workers must be paid on a "portal-to-portal" basis.

Thus, according to the law, he might have to sign a contract granting pay for the time spent traveling to & from the facing. But that would give miners $1.50 a day more and thereby violate the Little Steel formula: WLB might not permit it.

Here was a clear conflict between the judicial and administrative functions in the Government, murmured Lewis, all his innocence in his face. "What are we going to do?"

Committee members coughed, looked the other way. Someone changed the subject, began leading up to the danger of a strike.

Question Unanswered. Yes, John Lewis had joined in labor's no-strike pledge after Pearl Harbor. But the agreement included an understanding that some agency would be set up to "handle labor's problems judicially, on a basis of equity." Lewis sadly, sadly shook his head. "The unfortunate thing," he mourned, "was that the War Labor Board breached its contract with labor when it adopted the Little Steel formula."

Michigan's Senator Homer Ferguson put the $64 question. "Then you're telling the public today that the mineworkers intend to strike?"

John Lewis looked horrified. "The answer is no," he said. "I simply say the Board breached the contract when they abandoned equity in favor of an arbitrary formula. . . . I do not regard it as necessarily binding."

Three hours had passed. John Lewis stepped off the witness chair, gathered together his entourage, steamed majestically from the committee room. The echoes of his blank prose died: the stage emptied. The great tragedian, whom no vegetable-throwing gallery has ever been able to silence, had played another scene.

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