The Beaver Arrives

The transatlantic flying boat taxied to a mooring in Miami, and out stepped a brisk welterweight with a carved-coconut face, Britain's fabulous Lord Beaverbrook. Scrunched into a black overcoat, he emplaned for Washington. There he dined with the President.

The Beaver had come to act as coordinator in the British-U.S. food and production setup. That was the official reason, at least. If there was any other reason, the dynamic newspaper tycoon, lately No. 2 man in Winston Churchill's Cabinet, said nothing about it. Neither did Downing Street; neither did Washington, officially.


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