Man in a Hurry

Paul Hoffman, president of Studebaker Corp., was in Honolulu, on his way home from Korea and Japan, when a telephone call from the White House caught up with him. The call was from John Steelman. Harry Truman's aide wanted to know whether Hoffman, who had been a member of a commission making a Far East economic survey, would head the Economic Cooperation Administration. Hoffman said later: "I tried for two days to think of how to say No, but I just couldn't." Two days later, lugging a suitcase full of dirty laundry, he landed in Washington and said Yes.

That was Tuesday. He saw the President at noon. At 3 o'clock he appeared at the State Department for a press conference--not on ECA but on Korea and Japan. The President had not yet announced Hoffman's appointment, although every newsman at the conference knew it was in the works. They tried to make Hoffman confirm it. He sat--a benign-faced man with bright blue eyes, protruding underlip and long nose--ducking an answer. The newsmen buzzed after him out the office door. Someone asked if he would accept the job if it were offered. Said Hoffman imperturbably: "The first thing I would do would be to phone my wife in Pasadena. She usually tells me what to do." Then he fled in a car.

"Republican & Responsible." But three hours later the news was official. Paul Hoffman, now nominated as the boss of ECA, called another press conference. It was a different Hoffman who confronted nearly 100 newsmen, photographers and newsreel men in the Statler Hotel's Congressional Room. His answers were prompt and candid. He was supposed to be a hard-boiled businessman, said a reporter. Would he be hard-boiled with Europe? "The money we put up for European recovery can only stimulate Europe's economy," he said. "It cannot create it."

He described himself, over the clattering of newsreel cameramen, as "a Republican and responsible--sometimes that takes you on the liberal side, sometimes on the other, but at all times you feel your responsibility." He said that he had indeed phoned his wife in Pasadena. "I came out of it reasonably well, but she doesn't think much of the idea."

That night he got down to work on ECA's program. He was embarrassed by his lack of information. He made a frantic telephone call for help to his close friend Maurice T. Moore, Manhattan lawyer and Studebaker director.&

He called a handful of others, all former Government administrators: Dr. Calvin Hoover, dean of the Graduate School of Duke University; Richard Bissell, professor of economics at M.I.T.; Dr. Edward Mason, professor of economics at Harvard; Wayne Chatfield Taylor, onetime president of the Export-Import Bank. They said they would rally around. That was Wednesday morning. Bellboys were bringing so many telegrams to Hoffman's ninth floor Statler suite, costing Hoffman so many quarter tips, that he finally ordered all wires held at the desk until they could be brought up in bundles.

Quick Confirmation. Meanwhile, up on Capitol Hill, Senator Arthur Vandenberg brought Hoffman's appointment before the Senate for confirmation. Said Vandenberg: during the months of discussion, the man most frequently mentioned for the job had been 56-year-old Paul Hoffman. Hoffman, said Vandenberg, "was found to be the common denominator of the thought of the nation." Hoffman was also well aware of the need to cooperate with Congress, Van added reassuringly. The Senate confirmed him unanimously, in 10 minutes.

At the Statler, the common denominator busily multiplied himself. Will Clayton arrived for lunch to give him much-needed advice on how to set up a Government bureau--in this case one of the most prodigious bureaus in history. Lawyer "Tex" Moore arrived. He and Hoffman sallied forth for a conference with John Steelman. They returned to the Statler. State Department officials arrived with sheafs of reports, requisitions, and advice on what phases of the interim program needed immediate action.

Oath of Office. The State Department had requisitioned five floors for ECA in Washington's new Maiatico Building on Connecticut Avenue. From Capitol Hill Congress watched jealously, suspicious of State's activities, determined to squash any signs of State Department influence over ECA. House Appropriations Committee Chairman John Taber was already complaining that State had loaded ECA with "expensive furniture." Hoffman was beginning to get an idea of some of the pitfalls of his job.

Thursday morning at 7, he breakfasted with Moore and Wayne Taylor. Calvin Hoover arrived. A blonde secretary arrived. ECA began to hum. Hoffman rushed off to lunch with Acting Secretary of State Robert Lovett, met Moore and the others later in the old State Department building, where they took possession of four high-ceilinged rooms which had once been the suite of General John Pershing.

Precisely at 10 on Friday morning, Hoffman stood in the Oval Room of the White House. Wearing the blue suit he had worn to Japan--the only suit he had taken along and which he had worn ever since--he took the oath of office, watched by a beaming Harry Truman. Then he went to a meeting of the Cabinet (his job carries Cabinet rank), met reporters again and sortied up to Capitol Hill.

Watch Out for Maggots. Here he had a public-relations job to do, and Auto Salesman Hoffman handled it well. He chatted with the right Congressmen. He listened as much as he talked. He shook hands with Chairman Charles ("Doc") Eaton of the House Foreign Affairs Committee. Congressman Eaton greeted him warmly: "I'm glad you took this job." But, Eaton warned: "There'll be maggots crawlin' over you every minute of the time."

Not maggot-ridden yet, Hoffman went back downtown, inspected the empty floors in the Maiatico Building, ate a peanut-butter sandwich in a nearby pharmacy, and met reporters again in his old State Department building offices. A French reporter asked him for a word for Europe. Said Hoffman promptly: "The only reason I'm in this damn job is that I have good will for Europe."

The offices were already crowded with secretaries, stenographers, telephone men, messengers, lookers-on. The Hoffman private advisers perched around a long table, advising. Before nightfall, Hoffman spent the first of ECA's many millions. He signed his name to an authorization for $21 million of food and fuel for emergency shipments to Austria, Greece, France, Italy and The Netherlands. Then he raced back to the Statler, packed his bag and boarded a plane for his home in Union Pier, Mich. There, at last, he could change his suit.

-And Chairman of the Board of TIME Inc. Hoffman, a director of TIME Inc. since January, said he would soon resign this post. In accepting the $20,000-a-year post as ECA administrator, Hoffman would also take leave of absence from his presidency of Studebaker, give up his $96,000-a-year salary. Moore's job with ECA was only a temporary one.

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