At 6 o'clock one evening in Detroit's Hotel Statler, John L. Lewis shook his bushy head and sat up in bed to take his medicine. His secretary put a spoonful in his mouth. Mr. Lewis swallowed and made a face. He had influenza. Shortly a man left the sickroom. Newshawks in the corridor crowded around him asking, "How are things going?" The answer was curt: "Things are getting hot." To newshawks patroling the corridor all evening it seemed that the heating took a long time.
Visitors came and went. Midnight came, 1 o'clock, 2 o'clock....
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