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The House, which usually meets at noon, met around nine o'clock that day, planning to adjourn at noon. Bankhead had promised the congressman who was looking after Mrs. O'Day's bills that he would give him a signal when he was to move consideration of the bill. Nine o'clock came, and we were in quite a tizzy; 9:30 came, and no signal from the Speaker; 10 o'clock, no signal; 10:30, no signal; 11 o'clock, no signal. The author went to Rayburn's office and begged him to send a note to Bankhead reminding him of this bill. He was brushed off with the assurance that if the Speaker promised to take care of the bill he would not forget, and it would do more harm than good to remind him of it. About 11:30 when the author, who was sitting in the balcony on the point of collapse, heard Mrs. O'Day's congressman ask for the floor he knew the long-awaited signal had been received. The congressman got recognition immediately and proceeded to make a speech in behalf of the bill. He knew so little about the measure that, on the strength of his speech, the author himself would have voted against it.

However, a blind congressman by the name of Matthew Dunn from McKee's Rock, Pennsylvania, got up and explained the merits of the bill. A vote was ordered by the Speaker. Several stalwart Republicans, not including Fish, began protesting in the rear of the room. It is doubtful that they knew what the bill was about, except that it was sponsored by two outstanding New Dealers. The shouts of these half dozen objectors made the author's heart sink still further. Passage must be unanimous. After a minute or so of uproar from the back of the room, the Speaker banged on his desk and proclaimed, "Hearing no objection, I declare the bill passed." The die had been cast. Nothing short of a presidential veto could then kill the bill. There was no danger of a presidential veto, because Mrs. Caroline O'Day was a close friend of the Roosevelt family.

The Wagner-O'Day law was soon put into operation. A very capable committee was appointed. The representative of the public was Major M. C. Migel, known as a well-informed and enthusiastic friend of the blind. Admiral Peebles was at that time head of the procurement department upon which the burden of making the Wagner-O'Day law function properly must fall. The Navy had never been enthusiastic about this particular law, but the fact that a retired admiral was in charge of purchases probably helped to smooth out possible difficulties from that source in the inauguration of the measure.

The success of the Wagner-O'Day law, however, is largely traceable to Robert Le Fevre, assistant to the head of the procurement department, then a division of the U.S. Treasury Department. He took a great interest in the law and in what it would mean to blind people, and it was he who smoothed out the rough places in the operation of this very unusual federal law.

The Wagner-O'Day law authorized the selection of a nonprofit private agency to cooperate with the Federal Government in making the law work. The American Foundation for the Blind was first asked to take this responsibility; however, it preferred to have an independent specialized organization formed to take over this job. Therefore a nonprofit organization was formed under the laws of New York State, to be known as National Industries for the Blind, Inc. The board of trustees of this organization largely overlapped the board of trustees of the American Foundation for the Blind but also included several managers of workshops for the blind.

Probably the whole success of the operation of the law depended upon the man who was to head up the National Industries for the Blind. If he were unwise or lacking in resourcefulness it could still be a failure. Fortunately, there was available Chester C. Kleber, who had for several years supervised the WPA project which had manufactured so many thousands of Talking Book machines, and he was selected by the Board as general manager. He and Mr. Le Fevre soon became close friends, both fired with a zeal to make this strange law work.

About the time the Wagner-O'Day law went into effect, things were happening in Europe, and the United States began preparing for possible entrance into the second world war. This meant that the Federal Government was soon launched upon a campaign of purchasing brooms, mops and pillowcases, to an extent that workshops for the blind had never dreamed of, and all of this business could go to them if they wanted it, at the prices set by the Federal Government committee. The law specified that this committee could set a fair market price which the workshops for the blind could take or leave, as they chose. If they did not want to sell brooms, mops and pillowcases at the prices set, no one would be aggrieved and the orders would be put up for open bidding. The committee decided that " fair market price" did not necessarily mean the lowest price possible, because it might be that some concern might have a large stock of brooms or mops, or pillowcases, which it was dumping on the market. Therefore, from time to time the price-setting committee obtained bids from the public, and upon the basis of these bids and the conditions under which they were made, a fair market price was determined. This procedure protected the taxpayer against exorbitant prices, but also protected the workshops against any dumping prices.