Texas Gal
by C. Sprite

 

Chapter Forty-Seven         It's not smart to mess with DD!

A small, thin man with just a fringe of hair around his head pushed his way gently through the growing crowd and whispered something to the security man who had prevented my entry.

The security man then turned and gripped the handle of the door. "You may enter, Miss Drake, but not these two men with you," he said.

"These men are my Executive Vice-President and my Vice-President of Finance. They are officers of Piermont, and as such have a right to attend this meeting. By refusing them, you're refusing me."

The security man looked at the small man who had whispered to him, then opened the door a little further. "You may all enter," he said, though gritted teeth.

"Thank you," I said and smiled politely.

As I entered the ballroom where the South-Core Annual Stockholder's Meeting would be held, the press people behind me tried to walk in also, but were stopped. It didn't matter. I knew that invited press people from the industry and financial community would be admitted if they weren't already inside.

About two hundred chairs had been set up in the ballroom being used for the meeting. The audience seating faced a stage with a long table covered with a dark maroon cloth that extended to the floor. Over that a white tablecloth had been laid. Each of ten chairs at that head table had a water glass and a pitcher already filled with ice-water in front of it. A microphone was set up between each pair of chairs.

There were only about fifty people in the room when we entered. Most stood around talking in pairs or small clusters, but all conversation stopped as we walked in, ant they looked at us with keen interest. I knew that these weren't company employees for the most part. I suspected that they were either investors, or represented investors.

Since Ameri-Moore was a privately held company, I had never attended a stockholders meeting before. Bob had told me that at some point in the meeting, investors were usually allowed to query the company officers. A microphone stood in the center aisle, about twenty feet from the stage.

There was still quite a bit of time before the meeting was to start, so I wandered around looking at the displays set up on tables against the walls. Samples of products, and visual aids describing the company and its plant locations filled the tables.

Ice water, tea, coffee, and soft drinks were available, so I prepared a cup of tea for myself while Bob and Bill selected coffee. We had discussed our behavior in the car on the way here, and decided to remain quiet until the meeting started.

As the time neared for the start of the meeting, people began to file in and fill the ballroom. Bob, Bill, and I had taken aisle seats near the microphone. We had only been seated for a couple of minutes when the small, tonsured man who'd arranged for our admittance approached.

"Miss Drake," he said, "my name is Edward Lally. I work for Mr. Broward. He asks that you come backstage for a discussion before the meeting begins."

"But the meeting is about to begin, Mr. Lally," I said.

"I assure you that it won't start without Mr. Broward and the Board in attendance."

"Very well," I said, and stood up. Bob and Bill stood also.

"Miss Drake only," Mr. Lally said.

"Is this a one-on-one meeting with Mr. Broward?" I asked.

"Uh, no. I was told to bring you to the conference room where he and the Board of Directors are meeting."

"Then we all go, or none of us go."

He breathed deeply, released it, then nodded. We followed him as he led the way through a side door and down a corridor. In a small meeting room, ten men stood up from their places around a table. Every one regarded me with an annoyed expression. I smiled back pleasantly. I knew I was hated by this group. They both loathed and feared me, not on a physical level, but on a fiscal one.

I had seen pictures of Mr. Broward since he'd embarked on his campaign to destroy me, and I recognized him now standing at the head of the table. The chair at the foot of the table was empty so I moved towards that. There were no other chairs so Bob and Bill would stand at my sides. I knew that with hundreds of people waiting for the shareholder meeting to commence, the meeting would be a short one.

"Miss Drake," Broward said, without any of the formalities of greeting, "what is it you want here?"

"It should be obvious, Mr. Broward," I said as sat down, "even to you." He and the others at the table took their seats. "This is a shareholders meeting and I control the largest block of stock. Where would you expect that I'd be today?"

"Is that all?"

"Hardly, Mr. Broward. I'm most interested in the part of the program where the new officers will be elected."

Broward looked at me with venom filled eyes. "You mean to take my company?"

"Since I'm the largest shareholder, it's far more my company than yours, Mr. Broward; a fact that will be made abundantly clear in the next hour."

He seemed to deflate somewhat as he sank back into his chair. "You may not have the votes you need, Miss Drake. My shareholders will support me."

"This company has been mismanaged for years. You might find that the shareholders are ready for a change at the helm."

Broward looked at the men around them. Their faces had paled a bit. They knew that I needed a lot less shareholders to side with me, than they did. My success in the industry spoke volumes. The shareholders might feel that I could do a much better job than Broward.

"What do you want?" he asked. "I know you don't want to manage my little company. You have all of Ameri-Moore."

"I require several things," I said. "First, I want a press release issued which clearly states that you never meant to imply that I was involved with the break-in at your corporate office. You will state categorically that you know I was not involved."

He nodded. "And?"

"And this," I said, as I opened my attaché case and removed a sheaf of papers. I handed it to the man sitting on my left, who handed it to the man on his left, and so on until it reached Broward.

Broward glanced through the papers, his scowl growing more menacing as he read. Finally he lowered the papers. "This represents half my company's assets; our most modern and best producing plants."

"It only represents about 36.93 percent of your current assets. When the plants and properties are formally transferred to Piermont, with clear title, and taxes prorated to the date of transfer, I will return the 38.45 percent of your stock that I hold. It will essentially be a stock repurchase, with assets instead of cash. The extra one and half percent will allow you to claim to your other shareholders that the deal worked in their favor."

"Never," he screamed across the table.

"Very well," I said, "I'm sure the new CEO of the company will be more amenable. On the way here in the limo, my two associates said they were pretty sure you wouldn't take the deal I'm offering, so they flipped a coin. Allow me to introduce the next CEO of South-Core, Mr. William Marshall." I gestured to Bill standing on my right. "This other gentleman is Robert Warren, the new Chairman of the Board."

In the past I might have stood up as if to leave, but I didn't bother today. I had him and he knew it. He either agreed to my offer, or he would soon be packing his bags and sending out resumes. Truth be told, I wasn't as sure as I pretended to be. A lot of shareholders are apathetic and simply turn their voting proxies over to the officers to vote the way the way they believe. These men already knew exactly how many votes they could definitely count on, and how many shares I owned. The number of proxies they hadn't received would have to be quite high for them to accept that I could take away their livelihoods in the next hour.

The start time for the annual meeting had already passed when Broward hissed through gritted teeth, "Alright."

His agreement was tacit acknowledgement that he hadn't received enough proxies to be sure of winning a battle for the leadership of the company. I smiled to myself as I opened my attaché case again, then passed another set of the prepared papers. I thought I could actually see steam coming off Broward as he signed and initialed at the required places. When he was done he passed the two sets of papers back to me. I signed them and then handed them to Bill who notarized each page. Most of the documents were concerned with the transfer of the plants that we had selected as the ones we wanted, but one page was an admission that he knew I had no involvement in the break-in when he sent out the press release. I would give him an opportunity to release a press statement that strongly cleared my name, or I would send out photocopies of the affidavit.

"Thank you Mr. Broward," I said when the paperwork was done. "Please give the list of the transferred plants and properties to one of your people and have him call the managers immediately to inform them that my people will arrive within the next ten minutes to assume control."

Broward's eyes flicked to me in surprise.

"Yes, I've pre-positioned teams of security personnel and engineers very near each plant. As soon as we leave, one phone call will start them rolling, insuring that your people don't wreck the equipment or attempt to steal property that now rightly belongs to Piermont. I'm tired of the legal but underhanded tricks that South-Core employs. I felt you deserved a taste of your own medicine. If you continue to annoy me, I will be back, but next time I won't allow you such an easy out. I have little interest in the soft goods and formed paper products markets, so that might be a good place for you to continue to concentrate your efforts. But if you continue to employ your deceitful tactics in the areas of newsprint, Kraft paper, and bleached paper production, or cardboard manufacturing, forms printing, and construction materials producers, we'll butt heads again, and you'll once again become the laughing stock of the industry. It's your choice."

I stood up then, but everyone at the table remained seated. "Good day, gentlemen. I eagerly await your announcements in the meeting."

Bob held the door for me and we left the small conference room. Bob and I returned to our seats in the ballroom, while Bill went to make the call to Brandon. The word would be immediately spread from there to the waiting teams.

The ten officers didn't appear for several more minutes, but when they did they were smiling as if they had just won the lottery. Broward apologized for the delay and then talked about the behind the scenes deal that had just been made. He portrayed it as a great coup, and announced that as a result of the deal, the value of each share of outstanding stock would jump significantly. He also made a statement apologizing for the wording of the press release that attempted to cast a shadow on my name. He stated categorically that I had no involvement or anterior knowledge of the vandalism. Bill rejoined us as he spoke. When I looked towards him, he simply nodded.

We remained for the entire meeting, but then left when the officers came down off the stage to mingle. I had mingled with them enough.

As we exited the hotel, I was besieged by members of the press. Apparently the ones who had been in the lobby earlier had spread the word and reporters had flocked there to get a scoop. I decided to make the announcement I had rehearsed.

"Good afternoon, Ladies and Gentlemen," I said, as I held up my hands for quiet. "In a private meeting with South-Core officials prior to the start of the annual stockholder's meeting, we struck a deal whereby I will turn over my 3,845,000 shares of South-Core stock in exchange for certain properties, in a stock repurchase agreement. Both parties are satisfied with the deal I proposed. I received three newsprint manufacturing plants, two Kraft paper manufacturing plants, three cardboard manufacturing plants, two sawmills, and 120,000 acres of forestland. The value of these assets has been established by my people as $107 million dollars. South-Core has lately been expanding its business in the soft-goods market, and expects to concentrate its focus there, while the products produced by the plants transferred to Piermont today are more consistent with our interests."

"DD," someone shouted, "did South-Core make this deal to keep you from exercising a challenge to corporate management?"

"I'm looking forward to an improved relationship with South-Core. I had an opportunity to express my concerns to top management, and they conveyed their feelings to me. I have far too much on my plate now to concern myself with management of their company. While the assets of South-Core have been reduced by more than a third, their stock value has not been diluted by this transaction, and they are positioned to pursue the business areas I mentioned. I expect no further dealings with them once the formal transfer is complete, but I have told them that I'm willing to reconsider that position if the situation warrants."

"DD," someone else shouted, "industry insiders, upon learning that you had recently become the largest shareholder of South-Core stock, predicted that it was the first step in a plan of retaliation for comments made by the new CEO in June. Is there any truth to that?"

"In the annual meeting today, Mr. Broward stated that he regretted the wording of the press release and the misconceptions that it created. He stated categorically that I had no involvement or anterior knowledge of the event. I expect him to issue a new press release in the very near future that reiterates that oral statement. I'm satisfied with that."

"DD, what's next for you?"

"For me?" Smiling, I said, "I have to hurry back to school and take a make-up exam for one I missed by coming up here today. Good-bye, everyone."

As the reporters chuckled, Bob, Bill, and I pushed our way gently through and made it to the limo. In minutes we were headed towards the airport.

"The teams should be on the grounds of every plant by now," Bill said.

"I hope they don't run into problems," I said. "I know we have it in writing, but I don't trust South-Core to rein in their people."

"They have no choice, boss," Bob said. "You drove them into a corner and they signed the plants away. The paperwork Jeff prepared is iron-clad. To resist now would open them to lawsuits they can't win, and additional ridicule in the press."

"I hope so," I said, "but I have little faith that their hatred won't surface again. They put a good face on it for the meeting, but they're certainly not happy with the deal. As Broward said, the deal took away their best producing and most efficient plants and left them the dregs. We left them with no newsprint capacity, so they'll either have to convert some of their remaining equipment, buy from someone else to fulfill contracts, or disappoint customers. The same with Kraft paper. They can convert a machine or two to make Kraft in their remaining plants, but it will take a few days and won't be as nearly as financially productive as the equipment we got from them. It'll cost them money for every ton they sell if they don't raise their prices."

"Was this your plan from the beginning, when you asked Mrs. Moore to send out that press release?" Bill asked. "You only told us that you wanted to gain a majority stake in South-Core."

"To be honest, I wasn't exactly sure where we were headed," I said. "I only knew that I had to do something to show them I was tired of their antics. I tossed around ideas of selling off all their assets and dissolving the company, or just taking management responsibility. In the end, I decided that our $12 million dollar investment could earn us a big dividend without taking on responsibility for the company."

"A $107 million dollar package for a twelve and a quarter million dollar investment is quite a dividend."

"At least we won't be paying interest on loans without any expectation of cash-flow once we merge the new plants into Piermont," said. "You gentlemen have quite a job ahead of you. The employees at these plants are all South-Core people. You'll have to be alert to sabotage from fools who forget which side of their bread the butter is on now. We don't even know if we'll face a massive walkout. And we only bought the hardware and real estate, so we don't get the customers to go with the capacity. Can you do it?"

"We'll do it, boss," Bob said confidently. "It's only five new paper plants. Compared to Mo Paper, it'll be a snap."

"I hope so, Bob."

"I just wish we were getting the company with it," Bill said. "I don't get to look through all their paperwork this way and maybe find some hidden gold like at Greenfield."

I smiled and said, "You did great, Bill. By getting the stock at the price you did, we made a profit that any company would love to see on their books. Although we didn't dilute their stock value, we reduced their assets from $291 million to $184 million. That will definitely affect their ability to borrow at a time that they're scrambling to pay off existing loans on the plants and resources we got today so that the properties are free and clear for the transfer. It's going to virtually wipe out their cash-on-hand. Last but not least, we've interrupted their product flow to customers. As a reward, I'll start looking around for a company you can sink your teeth into."

Bill's smile lit up the back seat area of the limo. It reflected the way I felt right then.

I really did feel guilty about again stirring up a hornet's nest and then just leaving town. You'd think I'd be used to those feelings by now, having done it so often in the past. But this was different. The ten plants were staffed by South-Core personnel and it was anybody's guess how they would react. But I had faith in my people to handle the job right and I would probably only get in the way. I'd begun to wonder lately if I'd ever have any more business skills than that of a procurer of businesses. Would I ever be able to handle the day-to-day business the way that Bob Warren did? He was the real miracle person at Piermont.

    

The news of my South-Core deal made the financial news the next day. A large story appeared in the WSJ about my first acquiring a large block of South-Core stock at a pittance, and then converting that to ten plants and 120,000 acres of land. It made a lot of suppositions about my deal with Broward, and amazingly they were completely right. I wondered if an inside source at South-Core had spilled the beans, or if perhaps the officers, fearing the wrath of shareholders over the problems I had caused, decided to leak the story themselves so that everyone would know they had no choice but to accede to my demands. Whichever way they went, they weren't going to look good. One analyst went so far as to say he wished I'd actually proceeded with an action to replace the officers. They had to be fuming in Boston, but of course they were fuming before I'd even left Boston.

I immersed myself in school work after that, although I did continue to talk to Bob once each week. He told me that the realtor to whom I'd made the offer called to say that the owner had rejected it, but that she was willing to take an improved offer to him. I told Bob about the condition of the building and that it would surely be condemned. He felt I should perhaps sweeten the offer, but I decided to hold firm. While it would make life a little easier during shift changes at Danbury, we didn't really need the land, and I hated the idea of buying a building just so I could demolish it. If the owner was wiling to accept a price remotely near the one I'd offered, the realtor would surely have suggested an amount for renegotiation. The owner was obviously holding firm on the $350,000 asking price.

If there was any change in attitude after the article in the WSJ, it was on the part of my instructors rather than my fellow students. I couldn't decide if they were trying to determine how I managed to keep my grades so high while running a vast empire, or if they wanted to ask me for stock tips. The latter wouldn't have done any good as I didn't play the market at all.

Although I no longer looked like a child, I still didn't get involved in school activities or seek romance. I was on track to complete all the degree requirements for two degrees and I would let nothing interrupt that. Judy and Susan wanted so much to be like their friends and go out most nights, but they also wanted to finish their education with top grades. The studies won, although they did find time for a few activities. Most weekends it was just Mother and me in the house until 11 p.m.

Susan and I did make the time to get our driver's licenses once the first crazy days of school were over. We could finally all share the chore of driving to the ranch on weekends, not that we went that often. Usually Mary and Auntie came to visit us on weekends.

  

Thanksgiving was our first time back at the ranch since school began. It was wonderful to be home and to see Rosa and Ricardo again. They had become almost like family since joining us at the ranch. Ricardo had taken wonderful care of 'his' horses, and after taking our first communal bath in months we delighted in taking them out to stretch their legs on Thursday morning. After a one hour ride we returned to the house to help Rosa prepare the feast that we called our traditional Thanksgiving meal. It had changed little since our days in New Jersey and we looked forward to the special meal with great anticipation.

Grandma joined us a little after noon, in plenty of time for dinner. We always got a monster turkey and it was never ready to eat before one o'clock. Charles still refused to eat in the dining room, except at Christmas, but received his fill of food at a table in the kitchen.

During the meal we told Grandma about our school term and the things we were learning, and then she filled us in on the situation with the businesses; except for my division. She had slowly distanced herself from any involvement with my division, so I was virtually autonomous these days. Of course I still submitted reports every time something significant occurred, and she received copies of all financial reports as soon as they were prepared.

"What do you intend to do after graduation, dear?" Grandma asked me. "Are you through with school?"

"I haven't decided yet, Grandma. Originally I was thinking that I might take a couple of years off before applying to the graduate studies program to work on a master's degree, so that when I went back I would be the same age as the other kids. But Susan still has another year at Austin so I might stay and do it now. I just don't know yet."

"They say that once you leave to start your adult life, it's hard to return to school."

"Yes, my advisor told me that also."

"You should decide very soon if you want to get into the program for next year."

"Darla Anne," Auntie interjected after I had pondered Grandma's words, "I was speaking with a friend who was at our barbecue in August. Robbie mentioned that he saw a Gulfstream I for sale when he was in Las Vegas last month. He remembered that you said you said you were looking for one. This one is owned by one of the casinos but hasn't been used very much since they purchased a Gulfstream II. It's outfitted for executive use."

"Really? Is it in good condition?"

"He said it looked fine to him. If you're interested you should go up there and check it out. He gave me the contact information."

"Wonderful. I'll take a ride up there as soon as I can. Thank Robbie for me when you talk to him again."

"I will, honey."

   

On Friday I took my T-Bird out for my first ride; off the ranch that is. Susan went with me and we drove to town to do a little early Christmas shopping. I loved the car's beautiful lines and the way it handled. Life just couldn't be any better.

Almost every minute of our four day holiday seemed perfect. We bathed in the mornings, followed by a long ride around the ranch. Then after lunch we went shopping, or just relaxed and talked. When we were at school we were always in class, involved in separate activities, or had our noses stuck in books, and Mary wasn't even at our school. This weekend together was more like the way things had been in the past. I knew that if the vacation lasted too long, I would quickly get bored, but a few days of rest was nice.

But all good things end, and on Sunday we headed back to school and work.

The following weekend the jet picked me up in Austin and took me to Las Vegas. I had called the contact number Auntie had given me and someone had told me where the turboprop plane was and who I should see at the airfield.

We arrived about eleven a.m. and parked near the hanger where the Gulfstream could be found. I waited in an office area until a Mr. Arista was available to escort me to the hanger where the plane was located.

"This is an excellent aircraft, Miss Drake," he said. "Built in 1963, it's had enough use to keep it active, but not enough to beat the frame and engines up. The exterior was painted two years ago, when the interior was redone for use by the casino executives. They only used it a little before deciding to purchase a jet like yours. Since then, it's been mostly sitting. Occasionally they use it to transport a few clients to or from L.A., Frisco, or San Diego, when the jet is being used, but for any further destinations, the jet gets all the work."

The plane was very similar to the jet, except with turboprop engines. The outside, painted in white and light grey, was perfect, and the interior was gorgeous and plush. I didn't know if I wanted to sit in the pilot seat, or in the rear area where it accommodated fourteen passengers in real comfort, but for now I settled into the pilot seat. Mr. Arista kept up a running commentary on the features of the aircraft and especially the avionics. I knew what everything was, but I wasn't instrument rated and didn't know how to use them all yet.

As I pulled lightly on the yoke and twisted it to feel the aileron resistance, Mr. Arista smiled patronizingly and said, "Wouldn't you like to have your pilots come take a look?"

"No, this isn't for them," I replied. "This plane is for me."

"You? You're a pilot?"

"Yes, I have my license. I'm only rated for single-engine right now, but once I find the right plane, I'm going to start working on upgrading my ratings."

"I have a nice Piper twin that might interest you," he said. "This plane is more for transport than pleasure flying."

"Short distance corporate activity will be its primary function if I purchase it. We already have a couple of Cessna 206's for when I want to do some pleasure flying, and the jet for when I'm traveling any great distance."

"I see. Then you couldn't ask for a better choice. This plane is excellent for that purpose."

I wandered around the plane for several minutes before we returned to the office. I loved it and everything looked fine to me, but this wasn't a purchase that I intended to make without expert advice. After getting all the particulars, I told Mr. Arista that I was very interested, but that I required that my own Airframe and Power Plant mechanic take a look before signing anything. Given the amount of instrumentation, I would have an avionics expert check out everything inside the cockpit. He understood and said that he stood ready to assist in any way he could.

   

When we arrived back in Austin, I called the mechanic who serviced the jet. He said that he'd be happy to fly to Vegas and check out the plane. He said he was sure that the man who serviced the jet's avionics would be happy to handle that job for me as well. I knew that they'd do as thorough a job as anyone could ask for. I thanked him and gave him all the contact information for Mr. Arista.

A week later I received the written reports. Basically, the airframe was in excellent condition, but there were a few things that needed to be addressed, such as a leaky seal on the front wheel strut, and one of the tires had a deep gash and should be replaced. One of the engines was nearing its major overhaul time, while the other still had thousands of hours left. One prop was also due for overhaul soon. He provided a list of everything that should be done and the approximate cost. He said that the plane was perfectly safe to fly if I wished it brought to him so he could perform the work.

I called Mr. Arista and spoke at length about the plane. He had talked to my mechanic and was satisfied with the report. We haggled a little and then settled on a price that would allow me to have all the necessary work done while still remaining at the cost established for the plane. I told him to prepare the paperwork and bill my company.

    

Between school, homework, and Christmas gift shopping, it seemed like I didn’t have a spare minute until it was time for Christmas recess, so it was wonderful when we arrived home for the holidays. As always, schoolwork was forbidden until after Christmas day. Auntie had found a beautiful tree for us and Rosa and Ricardo had decorated it beautifully, then gone on to decorate the entire downstairs area. We'd done most of our shopping, but we nevertheless headed to town to do a little more.

Christmas morning was as hectic as always. We had to drag Rosa to the living room to open the presents because she wanted to keep working on our special meal, and we promised to help her later. Ricardo needed no such encouragement. He tore into his gifts as soon as we had assembled. We got such a kick out of watching him that we didn't start opening our own gifts until he was done and playing on the floor with his new gifts.

We took turns opening our things and ooh'ed and aah'ed at everyone's gifts. Once the gifts were opened we naturally had to try everything on. Then it was time to clean up and help Rosa prepare the dinner. We had made as much as could the previous night, including a dozen pies and cakes, and jars of cookies.

Grandma arrived at around noon, and we took turns talking with her while the others worked in the kitchen. When it was my time, we naturally talked about Piermont.

"Things are going fairly well, Grandma," I said. "There were a few problems back in September and October with the plants we got from South-Core, but that's all been taken care of now."

"What kind of problems, dear?" she asked.

"When I got the plants from South-Core, only the assets of the plant were transferred. We didn't get the customers, accounts receivable, or accounts payable. But South-Core had to turn over the plants free and clear of all debt and liens. We prorated property taxes and utility debts or credits. We had pre-positioned teams of engineers and security people to move in immediately before assets could be removed, or equipment could be sabotaged. Following the meeting in Boston, South-Core was to immediately inform all managers at the affected plant or property that it was now under the control of Piermont. My people went straightaway to the loading docks and canceled any outgoing paper shipments, which included removing product from trucks parked at the dock. The equipment was shut down and the workers were told to go home. We handed out prepared flyers that announced we would begin hiring the next morning, and that any workers who showed up at the start of first shift would be given priority over new hires from the local labor pool."

"And?" Grandma said as I caught my breath.

"At most of the ten plants, things went fairly smooth, but at one plant in West Virginia, the dock supervisor got his guys together and kicked our people out of the plant. We had prepared for this and immediately called in the state police. There was some doubt on the part of the police as to who was owner was, Piermont or South-Core, but a call to the South-Core corporate offices cleared that up. The police tried to get the warehouse people to surrender peacefully and go home, promising them that no charges would be preferred if they left immediately, but the supervisor managed to hold them together, telling them that it was all a lie. He said that South-Core would never sell that plant. Why they believed him over the state police I'll never understand, but they did. So the police simply blockaded the entrance into the plant after everyone else had left, and prepared to wait until the warehouse workers decided to quit the premises.

"After dark, it looked like they were going to surrender the premises, but suddenly a truck roared out of the dock area headed for the entrance. It wasn't a semi, but it was one of the larger trucks. It was loaded with paper, and being driven by the dock supervisor. He rammed two police cars and flipped over. The good news is that he was only one injured. He received a broken leg.

"The police arrested him and the others, on varying charges, and that looked to be the end of it. But when my engineers got inside they found that the warehouse people had severely damaged the paper forming equipment. We had to prefer criminal charges against the entire group.

"The next day, at the other plants, most of the former South-Core employees showed up and applied for jobs. Within hours they were back to work as Piermont employees. At the plant where the equipment was damaged, we locked the gates and announced that we'd begin hiring when the plant was ready to operate. It's still closed. Since we didn't get the customer base with the deal, we had excess capacity and I decided to leave that plant closed for now."

"What about the other plants?" Grandma asked. "How can you keep them open without customers?"

"Three of the paper plants produced all of South-Core's newsprint product. We didn't get their customer base from them, but we got most of it anyway once they couldn't supply the product anymore and their customers had to find new sources. Before the files were picked up, we managed to make copies of their customer lists. We contacted them, and they began ordering from us at slightly better prices than they had been paying. The same with the cardboard plants. South-Core had no other capability beyond the three we got from them."

"But that wasn't the case with the plant in West Virginia?"

"No, they produce Kraft paper. South-Core still has two other paper producing plants that make Kraft paper, although they're not as efficient and therefore their costs are higher. But they’ve been able to fill orders by adding shifts at those plants."

"And what's happening at the West Virginia plant you had to shut down?"

"We've told people that we might begin operations in the spring, once the paper forming machinery was repaired and completely overhauled. They see that the other nine former South-Core plants reopened immediately, so the people that took over the plant and damaged the equipment must be the most detested people in town. We have all their names and they won't find employment at any Piermont plant."

"How serious was the damage, really?"

"Not nearly as bad as it looked. The pictures that we took showed it to its worst advantage. They appeared in the local papers and it gave us an excellent excuse for shuttering the plant until we need it. I was afraid that for appearance sake we might have to produce product we didn't need yet. That's what Plymouth Paper did in Concord when South-Core was trying to drive them out. They wound up with a warehouse full of unsold product."

"When do you believe the situation will stabilize?"

"We're pretty stable now. We have five shuttered plants, four from the Mo Paper acquisition and this one from South-Core that I just mentioned, and we're in the process of bringing the Houston Business Forms plant online. Everyone else is operating solidly in the black. We're meeting all our loan payments and have been rebuilding our reserve accounts. In probably six more months, everything should be nicely evened out and flowing smoothly."

"Then you're saying that you're ready to buy again?"

"If the right deal comes along," I said grinning, "like always."

"Good, because I have a lead for you. At a political fundraiser last month I overhead some talk about a plant in Idaho."

"Idaho? That's Alliance territory."

"I don’t think you need to worry about them, dear," she said. "You have fifty-five plants now."

"But Alliance has many hundreds."

"Do you feel that you'll need to have hundreds before you can buy a plant in their backyard?"

"Uh, no."

"Neither do I. So perhaps it'll be worth a look."

"What do you know about it?"

"They've been losing ground for some time. I don’t know why."

"What do they produce?"

"Paper. That's all I know."

"What's their name?"

"High Plains Paper."

"In Orofino, Idaho?"

"Yes, you know them?"

"I know that they make newsprint and that they've been for sale for a while. They sent me a letter a couple of years ago, just before I bought Franklin, Bloomington, and Jamestown. They were asking $11 million for the plant with 18,000 acres of forestland. Based on our analysis at that time, the profits from the plant wouldn't cover the interest expense on the loan."

"I believe their situation has worsened, if I understood the conversation correctly."

One thing I knew about Grandma, she always understood the conversation correctly.

"Okay, Grandma, I'll contact them when I go to Brandon in a few weeks."

"You're not going to fly there tonight and make them an offer?"

I smiled. I knew she was kidding me because I seemed to always act so impulsively.

"Uh, not tonight," I said as she smiled.

 

(continued in part 48)

Many thanks to Bob M. for his excellent proofreading efforts on this chapter.

 

 

 

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