The New Boss

The emissary from the White House slipped quietly into Charles E. Wilson's Manhattan office last week to press an old question. Would Charlie Wilson give up his job as president of General Electric* to take charge of U.S. mobilization in Washington? Wilson, eyeing his visitor through his thick lenses, reconsidered the "No" which had been his answer since Korea. He might accept, said he, if he 1) got full powers to run mobilization his way, and 2) reported directly to the President and not through a middleman. Next day Harry Truman was on the phone: "That," the President told G.E.'s Wilson, "is exactly what I had in mind."

It wasn't quite what some of the mobilizers already on the scene had in mind. Coordinator W. Stuart Symington had been quick to abdicate gracefully; it was he who had proposed Wilson in the first place, and he had also urged appointing Wilson on Wilson's terms though they would make Symington's job less important. But rumor flitted briefly through the capital that both Secretary of Commerce Sawyer and National Production Authority Boss William Henry Harrison were apprehensive. Harry Truman's directive put an end to any argument: Wilson would be the unfettered general manager of U.S. preparedness, controlling production, prices, wages, procurement, manpower and whatever else might be necessary. He would be armed with the broadest set of powers ever granted to any citizen except a wartime President.

Twice Shy. Charlie Wilson, 64, a tall (6 ft. 2 in.), broad-shouldered, no-nonsense kind of businessman, had come through a boyhood in Manhattan's slums, started at the bottom of General Electric's ladder as an office boy and made his way to its $275,000-a-year top. Thanks to two famous Washington scraps of World War II, he knew a governmental hot potato before he caught one.

In 1942 he had resigned from G.E. "in 40 seconds" to be one of Donald Nelson's vice chairmen of the War Production Board. ("Hell's loose, and I've got to do something about it," said Wilson.) Right off, he began battling with Manhattan Investment Banker Ferdinand Eberstadt, one of Nelson's ablest assistants, over methods of getting the most out of U.S. corporations. Their differences of approach eventually boiled down to the question of which man would go and which would stay. Nelson ruled for Wilson and fired Eberstadt, although Wilson later came to praise (and use) Eberstadt's Controlled Materials Plan.

Two years later, Charlie Wilson got fed up with Nelson's eagerness to start reconverting while the war was far from ended. One day Nelson blandly called the WPB staff together for a "harmony" meeting, asked Wilson to say "a few words." Said Wilson: "I have already resigned." In a letter to President Roosevelt he accused Nelson's friends of planting newspaper stories calculated to make his life unbearable. "I cannot answer them unless I employ publicity experts," Wilson wrote. F.D.R. sent him home with a "Dear Charlie" letter and praise for "outstanding service."

Touch & Go. After Harry Truman telephoned him last week, Charlie Wilson slipped back to Washington by private plane, hustled from the airport to confer with Stu Symington. Then he checked in briefly with Secretary Sawyer. The mobilizers and stabilizers hoped he would not disturb their decentralized setup, until it became absolutely necessary to create a super-Office of Defense Mobilization. Said Wilson noncommittally: "I am in an exploratory frame of mind."

He was off again before dinner. After packing his suitcases he returned to Washington this week for a long stay.

*G.E.'s Charles E. (for Edward) Wilson is inevitably confused with General Motors' President Charles E. (for Erwin) Wilson. G.M.'s Wilson likes to refer to himself as "Engine Charlie," and to G.E.'s Wilson as "Electric Charlie."

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