The Team

The State Department was buzzing with vim & vigor last week, and its collective face was wreathed in smiles of jolly good fellowship. Painters slapped pistachio green on the drab cream walls of State's drafty old home on Washington's Pennsylvania Avenue. A panting porter lugged away Cordell Hull's cherished rubber plant. Under scaffolds and around carpet-menders, platinum-topped Secretary of State Edward R. Stettinius bustled like a busy host at a party. He invited the press to the swearing-in of five of his six new top aides,* whom he fondly calls his team. In the midst of the ceremony, he invited able Dean Acheson, the only big holdover from Hull's regime, to make a speech. Said Acheson, pointing to his freshly confirmed teammates: "These are the little pigs who went to market--I am the little pig who stayed home." Ed Stettinius laughed with the rest.

Then Secretary Stettinius led newsmen, photographers and team into a conference room, and, pointer in hand, showed a chart of the State Department reorganization. One hopeful correspondent interjected: "Winston Churchill has made another speech. . . ." Ed Stettinius brushed her aside with a wave of his classroom pointer. The State Department's big news was the new State Department.

Next day Ed Stettinius hired a hall (the D.A.R.'s Constitution Hall) for $478.20, the bill to be paid by himself and team. Some 2,500 employes--clerks, decoders, secretaries and porters--heard the U.S. Marine Band toot out Colonel Bogey March and El Capitan and then watched as Ed Stettinius, with unflagging enthusiasm, presented his new assistants.

It was encouraging to see the clubhouse so full of such team spirit. But the big game was waiting. The first half was over, the score looked bad, and the spectators were anxious.

*The sixth, Brigadier General Julius C. Holmes, is back in France.

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