At 64, John L. Lewis still packs a wallop. His luxurious mane is streaked with grey; he is still saddened by the death two years ago of his wife Myrta; he has given up smoking, and now just chews cigars down to two-inch butts. But his vocabulary is still full of sound & fury, his anger still as righteous as Jere miah's, his hold on the United Mine Workers still complete.
To prove it, he led the U.M.W. convention through the hoops in Cincinnati last week. Appropriately, the meeting began with a fist...
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