Two days after the election, the telephone rang in the plush Chicago offices of the American Federation of Musicians.
It was Niles Trammell. the softspoken, spectacled head of the National Broad casting Co., calling from New York. He begged to speak to Mr. Petrillo.
Sitting at his gigantic mahogany desk (the biggest he could buy at Marshall Field's), stub-legged James Caesar Petrillo, czar of U.S. musicians, picked up the receiver. Mr. Trammell said he would like to see Mr. Petrillo soon in New York. Barked Caesar Petrillo: "I'll come only if you're ready to...
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