The Man Who Pulled a Thread

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Why do Government employees tell Williams rather than their own superiors about illegalities and improprieties in their bureaus? That is the most significant question about Williams' operation. An obvious answer is that a lot of Government employees believe that Williams will act to end the graft and that their superiors will not. Not even Harry Truman would contend that when honest bank employees discover crookedness in the bank, they tip off the cops in secret before they tell their own officials. Honest bank employees assume that the men who run the bank are interested in ferreting out the crooks.

The Shack by the Tracks. Nobody is more surprised than John Williams to find himself a crusader and a national figure. His neighbors in Millsboro, Del. (pop. 750) are equally amazed. They are all familiar with the ramshackle, two-story building down by the railroad tracks that became a powerhouse of electrifying exposures. For years that building was the distribution point for Williams Super Chicken Feed and Lorro Pig Builder; it also offered poultry-raising equipment for sale, and coal. John Williams, known for miles around Millsboro as a profound student of a dollar, used to sit there writing his own letters and keeping his own books. He still does a lot of that. But these days, in his crowded office, John Williams also sifts Treasury reports, running into hundreds of millions of dollars. He is still a prosperous small businessman, but now he talks about high (and very low) finance. He always speaks in a low voice, a voice that sounds like a September breeze rustling through a field of dry, half-ripened corn. He wears a fixed smile and an almost vacant stare. But his neighbors know now that behind that familiar stare Williams is sorting out facts & figures and that he is hoping to break another big one before Election Day.

Though John Williams has a unique role in contemporary U.S. politics, the outline of his life is a familiar story. It was more familiar a generation or two ago.

Give & Take. John Williams was born, the ninth of eleven children, in 1904 on a farm just outside Millsboro. His father never learned to read and could write only his name. The family did not live in want, but there were no luxuries. The Williams kids were hard put to it to earn a nickel apiece for Saturday spending. When the Williamses moved to a house with a concrete walk around it, kids came from miles around to roller-skate. Even mother Williams tried it—once.

Birthdays were not observed in the Williams household, so his father was somewhat surprised one evening when John announced that he was 17 that day, and a man. Said his father: "I guess you're right. You're a man now, sure enough. You don't have to take orders from me any more. But as long as you keep your feet under my table, you're takin' my orders, understand?" Senator Williams tells this story to illustrate the point that a measure of federal control always goes with a grant of federal funds.