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His underlings like the Beaver now. So does the British public, which considers him as securely settled in his job as Winston Churchill is in his. Critics call him a dictator, point out that the Government would be in a frightful mess if all the Ministries were run like Beaverbrook's. That does not worry the Beaver. They complain that he has put industrial leaders in control of supplies used in their industries. The Beaver says his men are efficient. They complain that he has stolen publicity from other Ministries with stunts such as his aluminum-collecting campaign, is tight with legitimate ministerial news. The Beaver says: "My job is to produce airplanes, not publicity." He picked his own public-relations man, silver-haired, hard-boiled J. B. Wilson of the Express, to filter news from his Ministry, not to funnel it.
Even his mildest critics say that Beaverbrook is "slightly cracked." But a Canadian columnist summed up the general opinion of him thus: "Positive, bee; comparative, beaver; superlative, Beaverbrook." To keep Britain's aircraft factories running during a Blitzkrieg is a job comparable to running General Motors' 38 U. S. plants in an earthquake.
The Revolution. That such a bawling, boasting, gauche little man from the Colonies could secure a hold on British public opinion second only to Winston Churchill's is only one sign of the social revolution that is proceeding apace in Great Britain. It is a revolution in that it is being carried out without benefit of elections, yet it undoubtedly follows the will of the people. It began on May 10 when Winston Churchill succeeded Neville Chamberlain as Prime Minister.
Churchill named a Cabinet that was truly a coalition, but the balance of power, in terms of popular following, shifted from the Conservatives (who have 374 seats in the House of Commons) to Labor (which has 164 seats). Smart Winston Churchill knew that his only chance to win the war lay in the enthusiastic support of the working classes. Backed by press and public, with no real opposition from the abdicating ruling class, he brought forward such men as Minister of Supply Herbert Stanley Morrison, longtime Laborite Leader of the London County Council and Minister of Labor Ernest Bevin, the horny-handed General Secretary of the Transport and General Workers' Union. The British public, sick of the leadership that had produced Munich and bumbled through eight months of war, took these men to its heart, became so wildly enthusiastic over the "give 'itler 'ell" speeches of Ernest Bevin that he is considered the best bet to be next Prime Minister. Whether he is or whether he is not, Britain is through with rule by its traditional ruling class.
Two things have maintained the Conservatives in nominal power so far: 1) the need of unity in the face of Hitler's threat; 2) the Conservatives' overwhelming majority in the House of Commons. But since the illness of Conservative Leader Neville Chamberlain, another man has gradually usurped the actual leadership of the Party. He stays in the background and lets others drive, but he picks and orders the routes. That man is William Maxwell Aitken, Lord Beaverbrook. Says he: "Nobody would have believed it. It's as likely they'd have predicted I'd be Archbishop of Canterbury."