Of all the 1940 Presidential boomlets, that of patient Secretary of Agriculture Henry Agard Wallace has probably laid the biggest egg. Weary Mr. Wallace, toiling like Tantalus in Hades, has pushed the farm problem up the hill countless times, only to have it roll back and crush him anew each & every time. Trapped in a six-year mesh of cumbrous grabbag legislation, alternately burned by droughts* and swamped by bounteous Nature's overproduction, still he comes up with a dogged smile, pushes his greying cowlick out of his eyes, and tackles the irresistible forces with new enthusiasm. But still U. S....
FARMERS: Henry's Egg
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