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The Quiet Type. George Humphrey is from the Midwest heartland of coal and ore which supports the kingdom of steel. Since the '20s he has converted Cleve land's M. A. Hanna Co. from a foundering hodgepodge of mines and miscellany into a skillfully integrated corporation with holdings worth $250 million. The M. A. Hanna Co. dominates coal and iron mines, ships, banks, chemical plants, a rayon plant, a steel corporation—and is now deep in an enormous ore project in Labrador. Humphrey's exploits made his name magic among the planners and visionaries of U.S. industry, but the public knew him hardly at all. "Business," Humphrey used to say, "is judged by performance and if you perform you don't need to talk . . . I've always discouraged the people I know from making speeches." Humphrey will find that public life is different; that performance doesn't count unless the public understands the what and why and how of it; that education—and speeches—are a very important part of a public official's job.
Ike Eisenhower heard about the little-known Humphrey from his chief talent scout, General Lucius Clay. Clay first spotted Humphrey during World War II while Humphrey was serving with quiet effectiveness on the Department of Commerce's Business Advisory Council. Clay saw Humphrey again in postwar Germany; Clay was in command of the U.S. occupation zone, and Humphrey was making a survey of German industry for ECA's Paul Hoffman. Clay knew Humphrey only slightly—and still does—but he was impressed by the rare combination of "forward-looking imaginativeness" and "complete normalcy."
Ike agreed enthusiastically after chatting with Humphrey in Manhattan for a few minutes last November. Ike not only offered him a seat in his Cabinet, but threw an arm around Humphrey's shoulder and, looking at his balding head, said, "I see you part your hair the same way I do." Later, on board the cruiser Helena returning from Korea, Ike and Humphrey cottoned to each other even more. Hum phrey's dry, quick sallies in the wardroom often broke the atmosphere of heavy deliberation, to Ike's relief. And on deck, to Ike's surprise, Old Hunter Humphrey turned out to be every bit as good a skeet-shooter as Old Soldier Eisenhower.
Like Ike, George Humphrey is likely to feel frustrated and uneasy at a cocktail party and happy when he is in the field or at the bridge table. Like Ike, he likes the far-ranging operation, is in his element when he is outbound for Labrador in the Hanna Co.'s speedy converted Lockheed patrol bomber. His nonbusiness passion is horses; he is a scientific horse breeder and an excellent horseman. His rambling, two-story country home in Kirtland Hills, just outside Cleveland, is a horsy household dominated by murals, pictures and statues of horses. Above the living-room mantel is a lighted oil painting of George Humphrey on his own Richmond Boy. He spends most of his vacations on his 3,000-acre estate, "Milestone," near Thomasville, Ga.—usually riding and hunting.