Texas Gal
by C. Sprite

 

Chapter Forty-Two         People Who Live In Glass Houses…

I paced around my office after everyone had left, racking my brain for a solution. I knew that there were two companies in Europe, and one in Japan that made high speed wire coil binding equipment like the Lassiter 6130, but just getting it to the US and through customs in less than two months might prove insurmountable, even if they had it available for immediate shipment.

After an hour of pacing, I decided on a course of action. I would call my good friend Gilly Lassiter and see if he could help me out again. If he would take my call, that is.

I told Nancy who I wanted and then waited until she had made the connection. I was ready with my best Texas drawl when she said that she had Mr. Herman Lassiter on the phone.

"Gilly? How you all doing today, sugah?"

"I'm sorry, DD," he said without even waiting for me to ask the question. "I can't possibly spare another machine for ten months. I've got people from coast to coast screaming at me because we had to delay their orders. The ten that I promised you is the best I can do. My people will rebel and walk out on me if I mess with the schedule again."

"Gilly, I'm truly sorry if I was the cause for your troubles. I never meant to upset your complete schedule. I was only looking for twenty machines, after all."

"DD, we only manufacture five wire coil machines a month."

"Why so few, Gilly? It seems that the demand is there. Everybody quotes eight months to a year due to backorders."

"The demand isn't really that high, DD. It seems like it because the lead time is so long right now. The ten I promised you is a full two months of production."

"But why does it take so long to manufacture the machine. It's not very large. Is it a parts problem?"

"Oh, heck no. We have tons of parts. When a machine breaks down, we ship the replacement parts within one business day. At any one time, our warehouse probably has enough parts on hand to put together a hundred machines from spare parts."

If I was in a cartoon, a little light bulb would have suddenly lit up over my head! Or perhaps an entire chandelier!

"Really?" I said.

"Oh, sure. We pride ourselves on our parts service. Of course the machines are so reliable that our customers report few problems unless they're really pushing them hard on a consistent basis. And then most of those users carry a full inventory of parts on-hand."

"That's one of things that I really appreciate about your company, Gilly. You build quality equipment and you take care of your customers."

"Thank you, DD. It's how we built our company. I'm sorry that I can't help you out with more machines right now, but I'll do my best to give you a priority once we've satisfied the customers that we had to reschedule."

"Gilly, I understand completely, and I promise not to ask you to provide any additional machines for the next ten months. In fact I won't even mention it at the barbeque in August. You are coming, aren't you?"

"Well— I'll try. I can't promise that I'll get there."

"Well, I hope you can. I'd love to meet you in person. I feel like we're old friends, and I really do appreciate that you were able to free up ten machines for us."

"Well, I was glad to do it, DD. I hope that we'll continue to work closely for a long time to come."

"Oh, so do I, Gilly. Uh, there is one thing you could do for me, if you would. I need some 6130 parts."

"Of course, DD. We have everything you need. Do you have a list of what you'd like?"

"Well, I was hoping you could handle that for me. I want ten."

"Ten? Ten what?"

"Ten of everything."

"Ten of everything?" Gilly's voice must have gone up an octave. "You mean that you want ten unassembled machines?"

"That's right, Gilly. Since you always stock enough parts for a hundred machines, it shouldn't leave you short."

"But they'd be useless. You can't put together a machine by yourself."

"Oh I know that, Sugah," I said giggling loudly. "I wouldn't even try. But I have teams of engineers that can, at every operating paper plant. My people regularly dismantle, repair, and reassemble paper-forming machines. You've probably seen pictures of them. They're about three stories high and a couple of hundred feet long."

"DD, our wire-coil binders are precision machines."

"I know, Gilly. They're absolutely wonderful. My people simply love them. You and your people are to be congratulated for designing such wonderful pieces of equipment."

I heard a sigh on the other end as if he was bowing to the inevitable. "Okay, DD. We'll ship you enough parts to assemble ten machines."

"Oh, no need to ship them. We'll pick them up in Terre Haute. What time Monday can we get them?"

"Monday?"

"Too soon? I thought you said you ship in one business day."

"For a part or two, sure. But there are a thousand or more parts in a 6130 when you break it down. It will take us days to assemble all the parts for shipment."

"Today's only Friday. Monday is three days from now."

"But it's a weekend, DD."

"Tell you what, Gilly. You bill me for all the salaries and all overtime necessary to get the order ready, plus add a ten percent premium over the regular cost of the machines. With that, and with what you'll save on the assembly, it should be worth a little extra effort. Don't you think?"

I heard another sigh. "Okay, DD. Have your truck at our plant around four o'clock Monday. We'll have the parts ready."

"Gilly, you're wonderful. I could just eat you up. Thank you so much. I do hope you can make it to the ranch in August. You take care now, Sugah."

"Okay, DD. Goodbye."

I fell back into my chair as I hung up the receiver. I had been standing behind my desk for the entire call, nervously shifting my weight from foot to foot. I didn't really expect Gilly to agree to my plan, and I had been working on another while we talked. If he wouldn't send us the parts, I was going to ask him to provide a list of everyone who had purchased a 4515. If he'd do that, I'd call every owner in the country and offer them a new 6130 in exchange for their old machine, subject to the immediate surrender of their old equipment and normal availability dates for the 6130. It was the only other idea I had come up with. I reached for the phone and called John's office.

"Hello, Mr. Vice-President," I said when he answered.

"DD?"

"Yes, John. John, I need your help."

"Anything, DD."

"I just made arrangements to purchase ten more 6130s from Lassiter. We'll be sending a truck to pick them up Monday afternoon."

"Monday? This coming Monday?"

"Yes."

"I don't know how you do it, DD. I wouldn't have thought you could blast even one more machine out of them with dynamite from the way that Bob was talking. Where are we going to set them up?"

"Franklin would be best. They have the most room available."

"Sounds good. I'll have my guys there, ready and waiting Monday night. As soon as the truck rolls in, we'll begin setting them up."

"Uh, this setup is going to take a little longer than usual. You might want to arrange for more people."

"Why should it take longer?"

"I couldn't get any completed machines from Lassiter. The ten I got need some assembly."

"Do I sense another shoe about to be dropped?"

"Your senses certainly haven't failed you, John."

"Just how much assembly is required?"

"Uh— all of it. I ordered enough parts for ten machines from their parts department."

I didn't hear anything for a few seconds, and then I heard a chuckle that grew into a roaring laugh. John laughed so hard that he began choking and I feared that he might choke to death right there on the phone. I waited while he got himself under control and again heard his voice on the line.

"All of it, eh? Well, in that case it'll take a little longer than the others. Better figure on two weeks of work to get them all set up."

"John, you're wonderful. I love you."

"I love you too, DD. And I love working for you. It's never dull."

"I'll speak to Bob and have him arrange for the truck. If it leaves Terre Haute by five p.m., it should make Franklin by midnight. Try to concentrate on getting a few machines ready instead of having them all come on line at the same time. That way the operators can start working while you continue to assemble the others."

"Will do, DD."

"Great. Thanks, John. See you in a couple of weeks."

"Sure thing, DD. Have a good vacation."

"I will now," I said. "I couldn't go away with this problem hanging over us."

I called Bob next and explained the situation. Like John, he laughed so hard that he began coughing when I told him all the facts. It was still an hour earlier in the Midwest Region so he would have time to make the arrangements. By the time the first machine was ready to go into operation, the covers and paper would be waiting and ready at Franklin, and operators would be standing by.

I breathed a deep sigh of relief as I called Captain O'Toole and told him I'd be ready to head for home as soon as the plane was ready. It had been an exhausting two weeks, but I had a real sense of accomplishment for my part in arranging for the binding equipment, even if we did have to assemble half of the machines ourselves.

I knew that I'd very soon become restless, but the two weeks at Piermont had been very stressful and I needed a couple of days of rest. I brought the two cases of notebooks that I'd picked up in Evansville back to the ranch. They were a big hit with my sisters. Auntie and Mother were less enthused, and didn't understand the incredible demand when I told them about the incredible ordering frenzy.

I relaxed at the ranch over the weekend. We took a long ride around the perimeter on Saturday, winding up at our favorite watering hole for a picnic lunch in the afternoon. We talked about the upcoming two and a half week trip to the Riviera, discussed the clothes we would bring, and made plans to begin reviewing French, using our language records. We were extremely rusty. There was little opportunity to use the language in the US, unless you were very near the Canadian border in the Northeast. Even with its close proximity to Quebec, I had never heard anyone in Brandon speak French. I'd heard that some people around New Orleans and southern Louisiana speak French, but I'd never been there and didn't know how close the language spoken by the French Creole people was to the language spoken in France.

Sunday was more of the same wonderful nothingness, except that I finally got to drive my T-Bird. Mom drove it out of the garage, and then let me drive it down to the runway. I drove very slowly at first, but soon felt comfortable. I drove up and down the runaway for a half hour with Mother while Susan watched from the edge of the runway. I then switched places with Susan so that she could drive. Mother praised our efforts once we overcame our initial tendencies to crawl along so slow that an armadillo could overtake us.

Grandma, her secretary, and Charles showed up around 3 o'clock Thursday afternoon, just as the plane was landing in the back yard. From prior years we knew the best time to leave was about 3:30. We would stop once to refuel in Nova Scotia before making the jump over the Atlantic, refuel again in Ireland, and arrive in France in early morning. We had all the bags on the hanger ramp, ready to be loaded aboard as the plane came to a stop. Mother and Auntie had given Rosa and Ricardo their instructions and contact numbers, and we were ready to go. The co-pilot began loading the luggage as we boarded and took our seats.

We'd made a stack of pies and cakes Wednesday evening and the two pilots gratefully accepted two each. At one time I had baked almost every time before traveling, but my schedule didn't usually offer that luxury now, so getting our home-baked pies had become more of a treat than an expectation on the part of the pilots. In addition to the stack of boxes that we carried containing the pies, cakes, and cookies, we also carried covered bowls of food that Rosa had prepared for our in-flight dinner.

It was early morning when we landed in France. We'd all slept fitfully on the plane and were still feeling tired, so we all headed to bed as soon as we had unpacked. It would take a day or so to get our internal clocks reset to agree with local time.

I awoke a little after 3:00 local time. Susan and I always shared a bedroom when we came here because the house wasn't large enough for everyone to have their own. As I shifted around to get up, she awoke.

"What time is it, Darla Anne?"

"About three," I said. "I'm hungry."

"Me too. Wait for me, I'm getting up."

The cook that Grandma always retained when we visited was sitting in the kitchen reading a newspaper when we entered. Using our still rusty French, we asked her for breakfast. She knew we had been flying all night so she never questioned our meal request.

We had finished eating and were enjoying another cup of tea when Mother arrived.

"Good morning, girls," she said.

"Good morning, Mother," we chorused.

"Where's Judy and Mary?"

"We haven't seen them," I said. "They're probably still in bed. At least Mary is probably still in bed."

Mary always wanted a few more minutes sleep than the rest of us; sometimes a lot more minutes. Judy appeared in the dining room just as Mother began to eat her breakfast.

"Why didn't somebody wake me?" Judy asked indignantly.

"There's no special reason to get up, dear," Mother said. "We felt rested and were hungry. You can go back to bed if you're still tired."

"No, I'm awake now. Where's Auntie?"

"Getting a little more sleep. She'll be down shortly. Is Mary still in bed?"

"You know Mary," Judy said grinning. "She wants an extra couple of minutes. She'll probably get up in an hour or two. Anything planned for today?"

Susan and I shrugged. Mother said, "We'll just rest up and get settled in then. Tomorrow is soon enough for activity."

Grandma appeared a few minutes before Auntie did.

After eating, we bathed, dressed, and then sat outside on the stone veranda overlooking the Mediterranean. It was a beautiful, tranquil scene that had the same unique sort of calming effect that we enjoyed when watching the sunset from the porch back home. Dinner would be served several hours later than usual this first day because we certainly wouldn't be hungry at our normal suppertime.

Mary didn't make it down until almost five o'clock. She didn't feel like eating a meal so close to supper so she ate an orange and picked at a few cookies.

We walked down to the beach after having breakfast the following morning. We slathered ourselves in suntan oil and laid down to work on our tans. As usual, Grandma preferred to stay under an umbrella and reduce her exposure to the sun's rays.

We had long ago developed a system for our time in France; swim in the morning and shop in the afternoon. Some days we would go for car rides in the countryside during the afternoon hours.

So after lunch, we changed and went shopping in the town. There's no better way to refresh seldom used language skills quickly than to submerse yourself in the local populace. Unless we moved to a place where French was a dominant language, we would never speak it like a native, but we were able to make ourselves understood, and we would grow progressively better in coming days as we practiced it.

From our first trip to France, we'd begun attracting young males. With each passing year, as we moved towards adulthood, the interest seemed to grow. Now, with all us of appearing to be between seventeen and twenty-one, there was seldom a time when we were outside the house that we didn't have an admiring retinue. But as we had aged, we had become more mature and more worldly-wise. We enjoyed meeting many of the boys who sought us out, and were happy to spend time swimming and conversing with them and exchanging information about our diverse cultures, but we refused all offers to party away from the others. Even so, we had a great time.

It seemed like we had just arrived when and it was time to leave.

We left very early Monday morning, traveling with the sun and arriving in New Jersey in the afternoon. As soon as the customs people came out and cleared the plane, we headed to Dr. Clark's office. She had reserved a block of time from two o'clock in the afternoon forward for our annual check-ups. As usual, Grandma remained on the plane to reconnect with her business empire while we went to Dr. Clark's office. She would spend the hours on the telephone.

After a short visit, Dr. Clark began the examinations. When my turn came she had me take off all my clothes and then examined me from top to bottom after measuring every part of me. Although stopping to have an annual examination from Dr. Clark had become a tradition, my sisters had established medical relationships with practitioners in Texas, while I only visited Dr. Clark, for obvious reasons.

"How have you been, Darla Anne? It's been what, about six months since your last checkup?"

"Yes, Dr. Clark. I stopped in when I came north in January."

"Managing your company must take a great deal of time."

"It's not too bad actually. I have a wonderful executive group. It lets me concentrate on my studies when school is in session."

"Your purchase of Mo Paper was in the financial news. That was quite a coup."

"It was a wonderful opportunity. I couldn't afford not to take advantage of it when I learned about it. I hope you don't own stock in South-Core."

"No, I only invest in stocks listed on the NYSE board. I think that South-Core is traded on the American Stock Exchange. Have you responded yet to their allegations?"

"What allegations?"

"The charges from South-Core that your people broke into their headquarters to steal confidential information."

"This is news to me. We've been in France for two weeks."

"I read about it this morning in the Wall Street Journal," Dr. Clark said. "South-Core says that a group of your people broke into their offices in December and stole confidential files; including a copy of their detailed plans to acquire Mo Paper. They say that because of the damage caused to building and equipment, it was originally attributed to vandalism, but they know now that you were responsible."

"There's absolutely no truth to that. Like every big company, we watch our competition, but we've never hired anyone to procure information illegally."

"I'm glad there's nothing to it. Okay, we're done here. You appear to be in excellent health. It will take a week or two to get the results of the blood test, but I don't expect any problems. You can get dressed."

We stayed for another hour and visited with Dr. Clark. We heard a dozen stories about her twin girls and everything else that was going on in her life before we headed back to the plane. We again invited her and the girls to come visit us, but although she said she'd love to, she didn't know if she could get away from her practice this summer.

As soon as the plane had climbed into the sky and leveled off at altitude, Grandma came over to sit next to me.

"There was a news article in the Journal today," she said.

"About the South-Core allegations?"

"Yes. You heard?"

"Dr. Clark mentioned it."

"Is it true?"

"Of course not. I don't hire people to break into a competitor's office and steal information."

"It's perfectly okay if you did, dear. I've done far worse over the years when someone was trying to shove a knife in my financial back. I just have to know exactly what you did so we can prepare a defense."

"I didn't do it, Grandma. But I have gotten information from a detective I hired."

"Tell me about it."

"A year and a half ago, I was a bit paranoid about South-Core's unethical business practices. I hired a very respectable detective agency in Boston to watch South-Core for any sign that they had targeted us again. The agency head had one of his people apply for employment at South-Core. That individual was supposed to keep their eyes and ears open and report any hint of a conspiracy against Piermont. But it was supposed to be water-cooler talk only, nothing illegal."

"We're not talking about government secrets here, so what you did is perfectly legal."

"That's the way that I understood the situation as well. Piermont prospered and never gave South-Core an opening, so they never tried anything against us, but the detective did report plans against two other paper companies. In each case, Gorham Paper and Mo Paper, I successfully acquired the target firms first."

"That's it? Just two targets?"

"That's all I learned about from the detective agency. I did spoil South-Core's plans for Piermont, Greenfield, and Concord, but I only learned about South-Core's involvement after I became involved in each purchase investigation. After hearing about South-Core's plans for Gorham and Mo Paper, I had my local investigator fly in and dig up whatever he could from county tax records or whatever. But at no time did I ever authorize anything illegal. While my local investigator was checking tax records and the like, my people at Headquarters used sources such as D&B, and industry friends and acquaintances to learn whatever they could. Then I took all the information and formed a financial picture."

"If that's all you did, there's no problem. There's nothing illegal in any action you authorized."

"I didn't think so."

"Are you still employing the detective agency?"

"Yes. They bill us monthly for their services. They've given us two great leads and if I pay them for twenty more years without getting another, the amount paid to them will still be considered inconsequential when compared to the benefits we've already received."

"Okay, sweetheart. I'll have our attorneys look into this. There may be grounds for a libel suit. We'll have to get our hands on a copy of the press release, or the taped interview if it was orally given so we know exactly what they said."

"Okay, Grandma."

"I haven't told you lately what a wonderful job you've done with the Paper Division. I understand that you're personally responsible for creating an innovation in paper products."

"You mean the MoPacs?"

"Yes."

"Well— it was sort of my idea, but the designers and marketing people deserve most of the credit. They developed the actual products."

"They couldn't have developed anything if you hadn't first come up with the concept and gotten them started down the right road. Designing covers to appeal to young people was an inspiration. I also heard that you solved a production problem when you couldn't get the equipment you needed by ordering ten complete set of parts and having your people assemble the machines."

"They're not real big machines. They're only about fifteen feet long."

"It doesn't matter how large they are. You did what no one else could do. You got the equipment that your division needed when everyone had thrown up their hands."

"Well— that's sort of our job isn't it. Solving the problems and keeping the company moving towards the goals we've established."

"Yes, dear, it is. But it's always a delight to hear of your wonderful accomplishments. I wish you had time to take over the textile division."

"Grandma, I don't know that anyone could return that division to its former prominence."

"No? Why not?"

"From reading the trade mags, I've realized that a trend has been developing during the past decade. A lot of companies are moving their operations overseas where labor is incredibly cheap. Minimum wage is currently a dollar and a quarter here, and Ameri-Moore has always prided itself in being as generous as possible to its employees. You could afford to do that because you don't have stockholders screaming for higher profits. But other large companies don't have that luxury. They must forget about the long term and think only about the short term profit picture. By going overseas, they maximize the short term profits of their companies, and thus shareholder dividends. They can't afford to look ahead and prophesize what the situation will be thirty or forty years from now, because if they don't produce immediate profits, they'll be kicked out and someone else will be brought in to do the job. They can't let themselves see what a potential disaster they're creating at home by eroding the manufacturing base that allows people to purchase their products in the first place. They figure their successors can cross that bridge when they come to it. Textile production is ideally suited for export because it doesn't require any significant level of skill. But eventually, as the spiral downward continues, even the highly skilled jobs will be shipped abroad."

"Yes, I've had similar thoughts myself. What would you do?"

"First, I wouldn't prop up any division that can't pull its own weight. If a division isn't producing, and there's no sign that it will turn around, don't let it drag the company down with it. Second, as much as I hate the idea, 'if you can't lick them, join them.' If by remaining adamant, we could stop the export of jobs in the textile industry, I would. But we still have to compete on price, so I would immediately establish wholly owned subsidiary companies in the cheap labor market areas and prepare to move textile operations there. The Lumber, Cattle, and Paper Divisions aren't nearly so affected by overseas cheap labor competition, so they'll be able to compete in this market for the foreseeable future. Productivity improvement through technical advancements in Lumber and Paper production will hopefully keep us competitive for some time. Cattle production will always be a home industry. It's not labor intensive, and people want U.S. beef first. I see Canadian beef as our only real competition, but producers in other countries will eventually turn their attention towards us since we consume so much."

As I had been talking, Susan, Mary, and Judy had moved to the seats nearest us so they could listen.

"I can't believe that you're suggesting we should close the textile division," Judy said.

"I'm not. The textile division is a lot more than just fabric and clothing production. We own cotton farms and gins in addition to textile plants. I'm only suggesting that we consider moving the textile plants offshore, like everyone else is doing, to take advantage of the lower priced labor markets. If we don't do that, we may lose the entire division eventually, and it's sure to drag down the rest of the company in the meantime. If we're not prepared to do that, we should sell the textile plants now, while they're still profitable. Ameri-Moore is a business, not a charity, and we have an obligation to the tens of thousands of other families who depend upon us to be there to provide jobs and salaries in the other divisions. I don't like the thought of laying off employees any more than you, but should we watch the entire company sink into the morass of insolvency rather than doing what has to be done?"

"If you're so interested in closing plants, why don't you close some of your paper plants?"

"I did."

"You did? When?"

"You remember. Right after I bought Mo Paper, we closed twelve plants. Don't you remember commenting on how many people I had to furlough?"

"Oh, yeah."

"We've since reopened eight of the plants to meet demand for our new products, but four remain closed and I'm not sure that we'll ever be reopening them. The equipment is so old that the plants can only be marginally profitable in the best of years unless we have enough business to run multiple shifts there. The only other option is to modernize the plants by installing new or substantially newer equipment so they can be efficient and profitable. The trouble is that all four are in flood plain areas. We've commissioned reports from engineering companies that should give us the information we need to make some important decisions. First, we need to know what the chances are that each plant could suddenly be inundated. Second, we need to determine if sediment pools can be constructed at each site, to reduce pollution."

"I'm all in favor of that," Mary said. "I hate the fact that your plants damage the local water systems."

"No one likes pollution, Mary. If you walk up to anyone in this country and ask them if they enjoy pollution, they'll naturally say no. I'm sure that when the first paper plants were built, everyone thought that the streams and waterways would simply clean themselves. It's like flushing the toilet. No one thinks about where the waste goes. We know better now and the time has come to take responsibility for the pollution problem and do something about it. Sediment pools, to eliminate suspended solids, will be the first step. They'll reduce the pollutants by over sixty percent. Then the water will be filtered before being discharged into the water system from where it was taken originally. Our new plant in Jefferson City removes almost ninety percent of the pollutants in the waste water. New filtration systems are being tested that will one day be so effective that the water being discharged by the plant will be cleaner than the water taken in for use."

"Cleaner than the water taken in?"

"Yes. I was reading recently about a filtration process called reverse osmosis where the diffusion of molecules through a semipermeable membrane cleans the pollutants from water better than Mother Nature."

"It sounds expensive," Susan said.

"It is, right now. But it's something to consider for the future. For now I'd like to build the sediment pools and basic filtration systems at every plant, beginning with our largest producers. The original construction costs will be steep, but we have to do it."

"It's an excellent start, dear," Grandma said. "A ninety percent reduction is a wonderful step forward."

It took another full day to get used to the time zone changes, and then I was off to Vermont. Susan needed the plane Sunday, so I either went before then or found another mode of travel.

When we set down in Vermont, Earl was waiting for me. He loaded my suitcases into the limo and we headed for the gate as the plane taxied back to the active runway. The jet roared overhead and climbed into the cloud cover as we turned north towards Brandon. I couldn't shake an unusual sense of isolation as I watched its lights disappear. The last several times I had come here, the plane was at my immediate disposal. I had only to call Captain O'Toole to arrange for a trip to Jefferson City, Asheville, Owosso, or even the ranch.

My usual suite was reserved and waiting at the Inn. After unpacking my things, I walked to the dining room to have dinner. The special was one of my favorites, Maine Lobster. I enjoyed each succulent morsel as I dipped it in butter and tried to get it into my mouth before it dripped onto my clothing. The plastic lobster bib saved me from having two big grease spots on my blouse by the end of the meal.

On Thursday we arrived at the plant just before the first shift began pouring in. The guard at the gate snapped to attention when Earl flashed the lights and held his salute until we had passed. I idly wondered if Earl did that even when I wasn't in the limo just so he wouldn't have to stop.

I spent a few minutes chatting with Nancy as I entered the executive suite and then walked to my office and prepared a cup of tea. I had no idea what I was going to do with myself for the rest of the summer and it was only the twenty-sixth of June.

I went through my mail first, and then the employee forms. I had gotten involved with the binding problem during my last trip so soon after arriving that I hadn't take care of either, so I had a two month pile. When I finished, I made myself a cup of tea and stared at the folder containing offers.

There were, of course, the usual offers from overseas and the offers from businesses too small to be of interest, and the ones offering formed products, soft paper products, and paper products such as matboard. I separated them into groups for Nancy to send rejection letters and then tackled the Possibles. Seven of the letters in the file folder were leftovers from the previous culls in January and April. I hadn't sent rejection letters because I hadn't exactly dismissed them. We were just so involved with the Mo Paper acquisition that there hadn't been time for any other plant considerations. I didn't even know if I should be thinking of buying anything now. We had used the balance of the hundred-million dollars from our previous credit line to pay off the Mo Paper debt being held by the finance company that was charging an outrageous interest rate, and then lightly tapped the increase of two-hundred million dollars to pay off a few notes where the interest rate was higher than the rate being offered by our bank, but I didn't want to use any more unless the deal was a great one. With so much capacity that four plants remained closed and Franklin hadn't begun producing paper, we certainly didn't need any plants that produced chemically processed paper, so I set those offers aside for rejection letters. I knew that Bob wouldn't like that so I wouldn't tell him. When I was done, the offers I had left were from cardboard manufacturers, newsprint producers, forms producers, and construction products manufacturers.

We currently had adequate Kraft paper capacity, but if I bought any cardboard or construction product plants, we could probably use a little more. Of course, any of the closed plants could be converted to produce Kraft paper readily enough, but they would still not be really profitable. The two business forms production companies we currently owned were doing great, and we still had considerable capacity available at Bloomington and a bit at Danbury. I guess that our purchase of the Jamestown plant was responsible for the construction product offers. I wasn't too enthusiastic about acquiring more capacity until we had a little more experience with the products, but I left them in the Possibles folder for now. The last to be deleted from the pile were the newsprint producers. We had sufficient capacity to handle our present and projected near term needs.

That left the forms printing companies, the cardboard manufacturers, and the construction products manufacturers. Since I wasn't particularly keen on buying anything right now, I left the folder on my desk and went to my informal area to read trade magazines. The pile had grown considerably since I had begun cutting it back in April.

At noon I checked to see what special dish was being offered in the cafeteria. The menu listed Hungarian Goulash and Spinach Quiche as the main entrees. I didn't like to go to the cafeteria because everyone insisted that I jump ahead of them but I had waited too long to have Nancy make arrangements. She had already gone to lunch and a young woman from the pool was covering the executive office phones.

As expected, everyone stepped aside, refusing to let me wait in line. I picked up a portion of quiche and an orange, then returned to my office to eat. It was a nice day so I ate out on my deck, watching the activity in the yard below as I enjoyed my meal.

When I had finished and washed my dishes, I returned to my comfortable place on the couch and continued reading up on all the news in the industry.

It was almost 3 o'clock when Bob Warren called from his office to see if I was available. He came right over.

"Hi boss, I just got back from Concord."

"Is there a problem?"

"No, not really. Our demand for paper bags has increased to a point that we're nearing full capacity. I went over there to discuss adding some new bagging equipment. I wanted to make sure we had adequate space. If not, then we'd have to make other arrangements for the new equipment."

"And?"

"There's enough space for two more machines, and then we'll have to designate another location for bag making, or expand the building."

"When do you anticipate we'll exhaust the new capacity after we add the new equipment."

"At current growth, we probably have three years at most. We should make a decision within a year from now so that we can prepare, especially if we decide to expand the building."

"Good. We have lots of time to decide on the best course of action."

"So how was the Riviera?"

"It was wonderful. I hated to come back."

"I don't blame you. At least South-Core didn't send out their press release until the day before you came back. Are you going to issue a press release to refute their charges?"

"Grandma is going to handle it. She's looking into possibly filing a libel suit if South-Core wasn't careful enough in their wording."

"That would shut their mouths."

"Maybe," I said. "Perhaps it would just stir the pot some more. Have you gotten any calls?"

"A few reporters have left messages asking me to call them back."

"I told Nancy to tell anyone trying to contact me that I have no comment at present but that a response is being crafted."

"That sounds like a good reply. Keep them guessing."

"How did John make out at Franklin?"

"He's still down there."

"Is he having problems getting the Lassiters assembled?"

"A little more than he expected; but not because the assembly is in any way beyond his abilities. It seems that Lassiter didn't send all the parts necessary for assembly. After having to halt assembly twice when they couldn't find the necessary parts, they stopped trying to assemble the first machines and concentrated on reconciling all the received parts with the parts list. They found eighteen critical parts missing. Whoever put together that shipment was very sloppy."

"Or looking to get even with me for messing up their shipment schedule," I said.

"It could be that also."

"So what's our current situation?"

"John says that they've received all the parts now and are making good progress. They have four machines up and operating, turning out notebooks as fast as the operators can load the hoppers and unload the conveyor."

"Wonderful. We might make our promised delivery dates after all. What about the second group of five assembled machines that Gilly promised me originally?"

"Monday was thirty days and the machines were waiting when our truck arrived. I sent two to Evansville and three to Little Rock. That gives us six 6130s and one 4515 in Evansville, and five 6130s and one ancient Kolemann in Little Rock. John has sent two men to each location to do the setup work. The new Lassiters are great, according to the plant managers. The older machines are slow and labor intensive, especially the Kolemann, so once we catch up demand, we'll pack them in grease, shove them into a corner, and save them for emergency use only. We'll probably never use them again unless we get into a serious bind. I certainly wouldn't want to use them unless necessary. I've been thinking we might offer to advance the delivery dates for binders promised for September delivery."

"No, let's play the hand we're holding for another week. If someone did attempt to sabotage our effort once, perhaps they might have had a second go at it. Until we get the second group of five 'assembled' machines setup and running, I'd rather hold off improving delivery dates. If they operate properly when we set them up, then we can consider advancing delivery dates."

"Okay, boss. That makes sense."

"I'm sure that Gilly had nothing to do with the missing parts. It was probably someone down on the shop floor."

"You're probably right. It doesn't make sense for him to agree to sell you the stuff and then try to sabotage our effort. Maybe his assembly people were hoping we'd have to turn the parts back over to them for completion. Or maybe they were afraid we'd make them look bad if we got them together too quickly."

"It's possible," I said.

"Speaking of possible, any interesting offers in the Possibles folder?"

"Nothing jumped out at me, bit me on my behind, and screamed, 'Buy me now,' if that's what you mean," I said grinning. "You can take the folder and look them over if you want."

Bob grinned. "Have any offers ever bit you on your behind?" he asked as he walked to my desk to get the folder.

"A couple came close. Franklin was one that I wanted once I saw it. I saw a tremendous amount of potential and figured that it would go cheap because of its history and appearance. Owosso was probably the second closest."

"Your instincts were correct. Both have proven to be stellar acquisitions."

"If you spot something great that I missed," I said, "let me know."

He opened the folder and looked at the letters there. "I've seen some of these before," he said.

"There are a few leftovers from previous months where I got involved and never followed up. Until I send rejection letters, I leave them active. I've pulled the ones that I know I have no interest in."

Bob nodded. "Okay, boss. I'll take a look at them. Anything else you need?"

"Not right now. Thanks, Bob."

After Bob left I returned to my trade magazines. I'd encountered a few references to me and the division here and there, but nothing startling. I didn't expect that to last. The next issues would probably contain articles both on the success of the MoPacs, and the announcement by South-Core that I had led a commando raid on their headquarters and trashed the place. Perhaps one of the trade mags would even do a caricature of me dressed in camouflage clothing and carrying spray paint cans.

Just as I scowled at the absurdity of that thought, the phone rang.

"Miss Drake," Nancy said when I picked up the receiver, "there's a Mr. Wells on the line. He insists on talking to you but won't tell me what he wants. He insists he knows you and that you will take his call. I know that you don't want to talk with reporters, but I seem to recall you accepting calls from this man in the past."

"Thank you, Nancy. Mr. Wells is not a reporter. I'll take his call."

A second later I heard, "Miss Drake?"

"Yes, Mr. Wells."

"I'm glad to get through to you at last. I've been desperately trying to reach you for two weeks."

"I've been out of the country, Mr. Wells."

"Ah, that explains it. I'm sure that by now you know why I've been trying to contact you. South-Core has targeted you. The new CEO, Stanley Broward, has declared you Public Enemy Number One in their company and declared in private that he intends to pick up where Benjamin E. Chamberlain left off. He's vowed to bring you down and acquire Piermont if it's the last thing he does as CEO. The announcement that you vandalized their offices was only their opening gambit."

"I see. Any idea what they intend next?"

"My operative doesn't sit in on meetings at that level, so I can only pass on the office talk that filters down. So far, there's been nothing in the rumor mill."

"I see. Thank you, Mr. Wells. I'm sure you'll contact me as soon as you know something. I'll tell my secretary not to give you such a difficult time in the future. Just tell her that your first name is Herbert and she'll do everything possible to put you in touch with me."

"Herbert?"

"As in H.G. Wells."

"Ah, yes. I'd forgotten that his first name was Herbert."

"Thank you for calling, Mr. Wells. Good day."

"Good day, Miss Drake."

The phone call didn't really tell me anything I didn't know. I knew I wasn't responsible for the break-in at South-Core. It was probably kids, as originally thought. But the fact that Broward was trying to use the vandalism to strike at me was news of a sort
I suppose. And the statement that he intended to bring me down at any cost, and acquire Piermont made my blood boil. Grandma had said that she had done far worse than a mere break-in when someone was attempting to stick a financial knife in her back. I wondered if she was trying to tell me something. Was it time to take off the gloves and get serious about this three-year-old battle with South-Core? I didn't intend to do anything that would cause bodily harm to anyone, but I could again strike them where it hurt them the most, their wallets. Chamberlain had paid the price time and again for his misdeeds. Perhaps it was time Broward learned what happened when you attacked defenseless girls. Well, maybe not really defenseless, I thought with a grin.

I reached Grandma after making just two calls. She was up at the Portland office.

"Hi Grandma," I said.

"Hello, dear. This is a pleasant surprise. Are you in Brandon?"

"Yes, I am. I wanted to let you know that I just heard from the detective agency that I employed to watch South-Core. They've learned that the new CEO has targeted me for financial ruin. Releasing the press announcement was his idea."

"What's his name?"

"Stanley Broward."

"I don't know him," she said.

"I've never heard his name before either. I suspect he's a long time employee of South-Core because he's got an axe to grind. Have you found out if there're sufficient grounds for a libel suit?"

"My attorneys say that South-Core covered themselves pretty well. The press announcement was a lot of innuendo and speculations, but no actual direct charge of involvement by you or Piermont. South-Core said that in the break-in, the only thing missing were files that detailed their plans to acquire Mo Paper, a company that you acquired a few days after the break-in, and in which you had shown no interest in until after the break in."

"I suspected as much. Then you believe there's nothing to be served by going to court."

"The attorneys say it would probably be a wasted effort."

"I see. Can we release our own press announcement then?"

"Anyone can send out a press release. Whether the papers choose to use it or not is up to them. What did you want to say?"

"Basically, I just want to insinuate that we might be preparing to file a libel suit against Stanley Broward and South-Core Paper in the amount of $500 million for defamation of character. We won't actually do it, but they won't know that."

"If you start a war in the papers, it could get nasty. Perhaps it might be better to let the matter drop. Except for a few financial papers, their allegations didn't get much coverage. The matter has all but disappeared."

"South-Core doesn't intend to let the matter drop. This was only their opening gambit. I want them know that I'm not simply going to roll over and ignore them while they besmirch my good name, even if they don't actually accuse me of anything."

"Okay, I'll get our press people working on it. You want this worded very strongly, don't you?"

"Yes, I want the whole country to really believe we intend to eviscerate South-Core for targeting me. I'd love to sue them for $500 million."

"It's still early out here," she said. "We should be able to send it out today. If anyone is going to report it, it could appear as early as tomorrow."

"Perfect. Thank you, Grandma."

"You're welcome, dear. I'll see you on the fourth. All my love, sweetheart."

"Mine too, Grandma."

My next call was to Bill Marshall, my VP of Finance.

"Hi Bill, busy?"

"Never too busy for you, DD. What's up?"

"I'd like to discuss something with you and Bob Warren. Can you come over?"

"I'll be there in a minute."

"Thanks Bill."

I got the same answer from Bob. Since both men had offices within a pebble's throw of mine, they arrived together a minute later.

"What's up, Boss," Bob asked.

"It's time to show South-Core what happens when you throw rocks. Sometimes people pick them up and throw them back."

 

(continued in part 43 )

Many thanks to Bob M. for his excellent proofreading efforts on Chapters 36-45.

 

 

 

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