National Affairs: THE NEW SECRETARY OF DEFENSE

"There is a deep sympathy for the underdog in this match of mere man v. monstrous job," wrote TIME'S armed forces reporter last week. The monstrous job: Secretary of Defense. The mere man: Neil Hosier McElroy.

Early Years

The second of three sons of Ohio schoolteachers, McElroy was born in Berea (pop. 15,000), grew up in a strict but comfortable Methodist household in Madisonville, a suburb of Cincinnati, early learned that "God will provide if you go out and scratch." By shoveling snow, wrapping laundry bundles, working in a cannery, he had saved $1,000 by the time he finished high school. A scholarship from Cincinnati's Harvard Club stretched the $1,000, allowed him to work part-time, have enough time left to become a big man on the Harvard campus—varsity basketball center, president of Sigma Alpha Epsilon, dance-band leader (his specialties: piccolo and piano). He graduated ('25) with an A.B. in economics, latched onto a temporary job to raise the money to go to Harvard Business School. The job: a $100-a-month mail clerk at Procter & Gamble's Cincinnati headquarters. Twenty-three years later, he was elected president (current salary: $285,000), helped make P. & G. the U.S.'s largest soapmaking firm (20 plants in seven countries, 30,000 employees, $1,038,290 net sales in 1956).

Public Service

Following a stern P. & G. code for company officers, he spent a third of his time in unpaid civic service, directed the framing of a master plan for improving Cincinnati, headed Red Cross and Community Chest drives, became trustee of the city's Institute of Fine Arts, a member of the executive committee of the Summer Opera Association, Harvard overseer, an adviser to the University of Cincinnati. In 1955 President Eisenhower tapped him for the biggest lay-educational assignment of all: chairmanship of the White House Conference on Education. Ike was impressed by the way McElroy steered a conglomeration of free-wheeling individualists toward a hard-hitting, unified report which recommended that expenditures for education be doubled. When it came time to find a successor for Engine Charlie, Ike saw to it that McElroy's name was added to the list of candidates (TIME, July 29) for the job.

Personality

Big (6 ft. 4 in., 210 lbs.), blue-eyed Neil McElroy encourages people to call him "Mac," has a soap salesman's knack for making new friends, introduces himself to strangers as "McElroy of Procter & Gamble." He enjoys parties, tennis, fishing, poker and bridge, tries to spend weekends with wife Camilla, son Malcolm, 14, daughter Nancy, 21 (another daughter, Barbara, 19, is married), is a working Episcopalian. At the office he is a stickler for accuracy, delegates large chunks of responsibility, expects subordinates to back up suggestions and arguments with facts. To forestall a conflict-of-interest problem, he will sell $56,000 worth of General Electric and Chrysler stock, and resign as director of both companies, but will keep his $588,000 in P. & G. stock; the Defense Department does little business with P. & G.

Monstrous Jot