It was the week before Christmas and all through Detroit a great many creatures were stirring. That familiar figure, the man in the street, would have said that Detroit was "dead," "flat" or at least very quiet. But that would be because the Ford factories were shut down and production was at a low ebb in many another plant. Actually there was intense invisible activity—as in a huge household of which the important members had all shut themselves in their rooms to wrap up Christmas presents, cautiously guarding their keyholes against prying...
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