Died. Duane Jones, 63, Madison Avenue's "box-top king," the master merchandiser who first made soap-wrapper premiums and box tops into sales gimmicks; of a stroke; in Norwalk, Conn. In 1952, while president of the Manhattan agency bearing his name, Jones sued nine ex-executives who had defected with his major accounts, won a landmark $300,000, which he planned to donate to the University of Pennsylvania to establish a chair in business ethics.
Died. Clinton Strong Golden, 72, enterprising labor leader who clambered out of the iron mines (where he was a mule skinner at eleven) to become a founder of the United Steelworkers, vice chairman of the War Production Board, and director of the Trade Union Fellows program at the Harvard Business School; of a stroke; in Philadelphia.
Died. Julius Klein, 74, economic troubleshooter, a Harvard professor called to the Commerce Department by Presidents Wilson and Hoover, later a freelance consultant who counseled both Peru and Chile to replace their state-controlled economies with free enterprise; of hepatitis; in San Francisco.
Died. Benjamin Allyn Jones, 78, Calumet Farm's folksy, foxy trainer of six Kentucky Derby winners, including two holders of the Triple Crown, Whirlaway and Citation, whom he considered respectively his favorite and his greatest ("a Chinaman could train Citation"); of a heart attack; in Lexington, Ky. The Missouri-born banker's son launched himself as an owner-trainer-breeder on the Midwestern bullring circuit, learned to halter his foals the day after they dropped, fatten them on only the right food ("I can smell hay or feel it in the dark and tell whether horses will like it"), waste none of it on losing nags (his pet phrase: "Trade'm away for a dog and then shoot the dog"). Always doing just a little bit better than his rivals, Plain Ben Jones built Calumet into the nation's dominant stable, and in 1947, when $100,000 stakes races were still a rarity, he was the first to win more than $1,000,000 in purses. "It's like running a grocery store," he said. "I love to hear that cash register ring."
Died. Daniel Webster Hoan, 80, Socialist mayor of Milwaukee for 24 years of incorruptible efficiency and unprecedented solvency until his defeat in 1940, when the electorate suddenly saw Red, sought an unneeded new broom; of a stroke; in Milwaukee. A dishwasher who later cooked his way through law school, Dan Hoan was a twangy, shotgun orator who restricted his Marxmanship to Labor Day, indulged in class warfare only in 1919, when he declined to play host to King Albert of the Belgians. "I stand for the man who works," proclaimed the mayor of Milwaukee. "To hell with kings."