Our position was stated by a spokesman who pointed out that if labor would step up its output and reduce costs, the employer could meet the demands out of savings in cost. If, however, government increased labor rates without correspondingly modifying sales-prices, it would bankrupt manufacturers. Sidney Hillman listened to our point of view with amused tolerance and then played his ace. “Of course,” he remarked, “you are protected by the escalator clause.” Reuben Fleet, of Consolidated, twisted in his chair and swallowed an aspirin tablet. “When we came up to this fifth floor this morning,” he said, “they showed us the escalator. But,” he added, wagging a finger in Sidney Hillman’s face, “the escalator stopped at the fourth floor.” At this pat retort the contractors gave vent to a whoop that broke up the meeting. Shortly after President Roosevelt’s announcement of his 50,000-airplane program, or the “numbers racket,” newspaper headlines flared the story that government had called industry leaders to Washington to tell them off for their crime, “too little and too late.” The call brought Phil Johnson from far-off Seattle, Donald Douglas, Bob Gross, and Dutch Kindleberger from Los Angeles, and others from farther or nearer. Phil Johnson, once driven out of air transport, had now been called back to Boeing to build heavy bombers. But when we manufacturers foregathered together and proceeded to the assigned meeting places, we found the rooms so jammed with sound cameras, klieg lights, and heavy cable, there was room for but a few of the better-publicized culprits. The others watched through doors and windows while big politicos mugged cameras that would flicker their message to the hinterlands. Most of us had to see the newsreels to find out what message it was we had traveled so far to receive. The problem of how to expand production, train licensees, and meet all Selective Service demands was always with us. For all United Aircraft divisions had accepted the responsibility for servicing in the field all equipment of our design whether manufactured by us or anyone else. This kept hundreds of trained service men in the field, including many in the front lines. One day I received a visit from my old friend Joe Beach, former mayor of Hartford, once a good citizen but then a major assigned to the Army Personnel Procurement Branch. Joe, who knew our problems, regretfully advised me that he had received orders to recruit, from Pratt and Whitney, several hundred men conforming to a specification that described our best-trained field-service men, specialists who could be replaced only with the greatest difficulty. Joe tried to soften the blow by saying the men would be immediately commissioned captains or colonels or something. The Army would not take “no” for an answer; it was come across or else.