Two coalminers' sons sat at a walnut-stained steel desk in a Pittsburgh office last week, swaying the lives of at least a half-million other men, shaping the destiny of the whole U. S. One of them, dynamically champing a stogie, was Benjamin Franklin Fairless, a dark, stocky, kinetic corporation executive. The other, suavely puffing a cigaret, was Philip Murray, a lean, grey, scholarly labor leader. When their first talk was over the Labor Leader cried, and no impartial observer disputed him: "This is unquestionably the greatest story in the history of the...
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