Personnel

Last week the following were news:

P: National Steel Corp.'s Chairman Ernest Tener Weir is strong for hardboiled, hard-driving executives who, like himself, got their higher education at an open-hearth furnace, not in a classroom. Long has he had his eye on Thomas E. Millsop, who was holding down a job in a steel mill at 15. Last week Mr. Weir upped redhaired, jut-jawed.

Steelman Millsop to the presidency of his Weirton Steel Co., making him, at 37, the youngest chief executive in the business. Steelman Millsop quit an open-hearth job to spend three years as a combat pilot with the Canadian and U. S. air forces. After the War, he barnstormed for a while as a stunt flyer, later returned to steel in the blast-furnace department of Youngstown Sheet & Tube. After a few months he moved over to drive rivets for Standard Tank Car Co., shortly shot up to the production manager's desk.

Ten years ago Steelman Millsop marched into the office of Steelman Weir, demanded a salesman's job at a fancy figure. Mr. Weir laughed. But the young man's rapid-fire self-sales-talk continued until Steelman Weir cried: "You've sold yourself to me." Following week, the new Weirton salesman brought in a $1,000,000 order. On the road for the next few years, he assiduously read Gideon Bibles in hotels, sold so much steel that in 1929 he was made assistant sales manager, later assistant to the president, finally vice president. Forthright, aggressive Mr. Millsop has been in actual charge of Weirton since last summer, when the late President John C. Williams became fatally ill. A good mixer, Weirton's best labor handshaker, President Millsop likes ancient history, sports, goes to company baseball games in his shirtsleeves.

P: "I am renting an office to hang up my hat in and start off for regularly every morning," said Marshall Field's John McKinlay in Chicago last week. The 61-year-old Scotsman had just placed his resignation as president in the hands of another Scotsman, Chairman James McKinsey. To President McKinlay, who rose from a cashboy, Marshall Field was an Institution. To Chairman McKinsey, who entered from the top as a professional management counsel, Marshall Field was a corporation with a problem. The two viewpoints were incompatible. As Mr. McKinlay's successor, Mr. McKinsey suggested Vice President Frederick Dexter Corley, a tall, blue-eyed, dark-haired merchant of 53 who got his start in the millinery department at 18. The suggestion was accepted by the Marshall Field directorate within five minutes.

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