Mr. Fixit

Henry Wallace's talkative visit to England reminded some citizens back home of another, earlier American traveler abroad: George Logan, whose gabbiness inspired an Act of Congress.

Logan was an 18th Century gentleman farmer, an author of pamphlets on crops and soil, and a Quaker pacifist. He lived on a 500-acre estate near Germantown, Pa., dabbled in medicine, and habitually wore homespun clothes to encourage domestic manufacture. In 1798, Logan saw the U.S., attacked and insulted, preparing for war. French warships had seized U.S. vessels. The French foreign minister, Talleyrand, had cynically tried to exact what amounted to a tribute from the infant country. Nevertheless, Quaker Logan viewed U.S. intentions with consternation, and as a self-appointed peacemaker sailed for France.

He came back with the report that the French Directory only wanted peace, the chief effect of which was to soften American public opinion at the very moment when the Government was trying its best to appear strong. Congress was incensed. The well-meaning Logan got no more than a tongue-lashing, but Congress passed the Logan Act as a curb on all future self-appointed spokesmen.

The act made it a high misdemeanor for a U.S. citizen, without permission from the Government, to carry on any "verbal or written correspondence or intercourse with any foreign government or any officer or agent thereof, with an intent to influence the measures or conduct of any foreign government or of any officer or agent thereof, in relation to any disputes or controversies with the United States, or to defeat the measures of the Government of the United States. . . ." The penalty: not more than $5,000 in fines and imprisonment for not more than three years.

This week Congressman J. Parnell Thomas demanded that the law be applied to Henry Wallace. Few took him seriously--but everybody saw the parallel.

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