LABOR: The Mind of Mr. Lewis

The big man strides ponderously up & down the big, dark-paneled office, his wide feet sinking heavily in the taupe broadloom carpet. John Llewellyn Lewis is thinking. Now his pale thick hands are clasped behind him; now they jam in great fists in his coat pockets. Deep in his heavy chops he grips a cigar the size of an auto's gearshift, and like a gearshift the cigar slides slickly from point to point along the wide mouth. A mountain in a white suit, rumpled, tired, his whitening bale of hair shaking as he...

Want the full story?

Subscribe Now

Subscribe
Subscribe

Get TIME the way you want it

  • One Week Digital Pass — $4.99
  • Monthly Pay-As-You-Go DIGITAL ACCESS$2.99
  • One Year ALL ACCESSJust $30!   Best Deal!
    Print Magazine + Digital Edition + Subscriber-only Content on TIME.com

Learn more about the benefits of being a TIME subscriber

If you are already a subscriber sign up — registration is free!