The pudgy face of James Caesar Petrillo* was wreathed in smiles. The boss of A.F. of L. Musicians' Union strode through his big office high in Manhattan's General Electric Building, sat down to thumb happily through a neat nine-page contract. His guests—officers of the nation's record companies—were glum.
Boss Petrillo handed out copies of the contract, containing the terms under which his 138,000 members will condescend to make their first records for the U.S. public since August 1942. Representatives of Decca (half of all U.S. records) meekly signed. The rest departed for further study But with the united front broken, they...
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