“The next day the chairman of the board called him into his office and told him about it, and just as the man had anticipated, the candidate wasn’t flustered at all, though it was perfectly clear he was grateful. There wasn’t anything snotty about it. ‘One last thing,’ the chairman told him before he let him go, ‘the company has an official policy for a prospect at your level. We need the names of four top men not connected with our organization whom we can write to request letters about you. It’s just a formality, of course. The board never announces a man’s candidacy to him unless they mean to confirm. Nothing ever goes wrong when you get this far, but it’s standard operating procedure, so if you’ll give me the four names I’ll see that letters are gotten out at once, and you’ll be confirmed at our next meeting. You’re a shoo-in.’
“Well, to the chairman’s astonishment the candidate seemed a little flustered at this, and the chairman asked him what was wrong.
“‘Nothing,’ the guy said. ‘What sort of letters?’
“The chairman saw that the young man didn’t understand and tried to reassure him. ‘Just the usual stuff,’ he told him. ‘About your character, that you’re honest, that you’re not likely to embezzle our funds or get us into trouble with the SEC. A little about your personality. You know.’
“He saw that the fellow still had some misgivings, and he began to get suspicious, but just then he realized what it was probably all about and he broke into a big, friendly smile. ‘I get it,’ he said. ‘It’s because you’re so young and don’t yet feel you know four top executives well enough to ask them to write letters for you. That’s your problem, isn’t it?’
“‘Well—’ the young man said.
“‘Look,’ the chairman told him, ‘they don’t have to be the biggest men in the country. You’ve been with the firm seven years. You’ve had important posts. When you were out West and handled that government thing for us, didn’t you have to work with major men in smaller companies we subcontracted to?’
“The shoo-in nodded and the chairman said well then, he could use
those
names. ‘Come on,’ he said, ‘let’s get this over with. You sit down here at my desk and write me four names of people we can get in touch with. You don’t even have to know their addresses. My secretary will look them up.’ With that the chairman rose, and the shoo-in sat down behind the desk and quickly wrote out four names. He left the list on the blotter under a paperweight and got up to go. ‘There,’ the chairman said, ‘now that’s done we’ll be approving your candidacy in no time.’
“The shoo-in left the office, and the chairman read the list. What was his surprise when he saw that the young man had written down not the names of the presidents of
small
organizations, but of men at the head of
the biggest companies in America
, companies that dwarfed even the chairman’s own! Four key captains of industry, man in the vanguard of corporate America! And not just their names,
but their Grosse Pointe and Virginia-hunt-country addresses as well!
He couldn’t leave
this
to his secretary, and he decided instead to take up his own stationery and write out the notes himself in longhand and pen.
“The responses came back quickly, and the chairman had them reproduced and took them with him to the next board meeting. He told board members of his interview with the shoo-in and about how nervous the young man had seemed when he had asked for the names. ‘But what puzzles me,’ he said, ‘is what could have been in the fellow’s mind. Here, look, you can see for yourselves. The letters are marvelous.’ And with that he distributed copies of the letters all around the big mahogany table.
“Just as the chairman’s own had been, these letters too were handwritten by the executives and owners of the companies themselves, and frankly it was a little while before many of the men could make sense of the contents, so interested were they in the turns of phrase and styles and patterns of thinking revealed in the letters. Each was a rare industrial document. One member who had been with the organization since its beginning and was regarded by the others as the most solid and conservative among them grew so excited he had to hold up a letter and wave it. ‘Here,’ he said, ‘this one. You know I’ve only seen his signature before on the product. Why, it’s just like the stylized signature on the trademark!’
“Then the chairman gave them time to assimilate the contents and suggested a vote of confirmation, saying that he had left the shoo-in in his office and that if they finished their business quickly, they could all enjoy a celebration lunch together before some of them had to catch their jets.
“At once the vice-president offered a motion to confirm, and before his motion could even be repeated by the chairman two voices were heard. The chairman called on the man furthest from him, the organization’s chief counsel, a man famous for his careful evaluations, expecting that he wanted to second the motion, and by thus giving
his
blessing, preclude any merely routine discussion. When the man spoke, however, he surprised them all. ‘I don’t know,’ he began. ‘Perhaps I’m being arbitrary, but I think we ought to take a closer look at these letters.’
“‘What do you mean?’ the chairman demanded. ‘The letters are genuine. Are you making the monstrous suggestion that they’ve been forged?’
“‘Not at all, not at all,’ the lawyer said. ‘Of course they’re legitimate. I’m not suggesting otherwise. All I mean is that we ought to examine the substance. This one, for example.’ He held up a letter. ‘This one says—let’s see if I can find it; yes, here it is—this one says that what the writer is chiefly struck by is the candidate’s good humor, that he’s had him out to the farm and found him “convivial, gay, charming, an indefatigable social catalyst whose jokes and anecdotes enlighten as well as entertain.” He mentions “his dancing, his tennis, his universal good manners and courtly display of wit to the least of the other guests and to the staff,” as well as to himself.’
“‘What’s wrong with that?’ the chairman asked. ‘The man goes on to vouch for his brains and efficiency too. What’s wrong with that?’
“‘Nothing, of course,’ the lawyer said, ‘but then we have
this
testimonial’—he picked up a second letter from the pile—‘where the writer remarks on being impressed with the candidate’s seriousness of purpose, his levelheaded and even solemn approach to a situation. He’s been our candidate’s host too, it seems, and claims that he considers those weekends when the candidate was a guest in his home to have been “philosophical mileposts, times for meaningful contemplation and the dignified reappraisal of goals and values.” The young man has been an inspiration, this man claims, and “has redirected and subdued the frivolous and cynical vitality of others into more worthwhile channels.” ’
“‘But the fellow talks of his perspective also, of his balance and good sportsmanship,’ the chairman said.
“‘I know that,’ the lawyer said, and began to read from a third letter, but at this point was interrupted by the board member next to him, a man who had opened up vast new customer areas in Asia.
“‘I see what our colleague is getting at, but I like the part in this letter—’
“‘That’s the one I was just coming to,’ the lawyer said.
“‘—where the young fellow’s foresight and courage are praised, “…his willingness to take a big risk and then back up that risk with everything he’s got.” He says he can almost smell the fresh young blood in him. I like that. That sort of thing could stir some of the rest of us up around here.’
“‘Certainly,’ said the man who had spoken up at the same time as the lawyer, the member the chairman had not called upon when the vice-president made his motion to confirm. ‘Yet in this last letter the writer speaks of the boy’s “prudence, his steady imperturbability, and reluctance to seek an advantage when the percentages are against it.” He goes on to comment that this is rarely found in someone the candidate’s age.’
“Now
all
the board members began to discover inconsistencies, calling them out to each other like people who want their songs played on a piano. The chairman, who had risen out of his seat to oppose the lawyer when he had read from the letters and who had remained standing through it all, now sank back wearily. ‘I hadn’t realized,’ he said. ‘The letters were all so enthusiastic. I hadn’t realized.’
“‘None of us realized, Joseph,’ the vice-president who had proposed confirmation said.
“‘I hadn’t realized myself,’ the organization’s chief counsel said. ‘It was only when I remembered what you told us of the fellow’s being nonplused when you asked him for the names. Then I thought of certain phrases in the letters and I became concerned. I’m sorry, gentlemen, but the candidate is devious.’
“The chairman thanked him and asked if there was now a second to the vice-president’s motion. There was no one to second it. Reluctantly the vice-president rose, asked that his former proposal be withdrawn and suggested that the candidate be disqualified from further consideration. This was quietly seconded and somewhat sadly passed by all present.
“Now the chairman had the responsibility of returning to his office to tell the shoo-in he had been rejected. Before he left the young man, he had urged him to sit in his chair at the big desk, assuring him that the joke was standard ritual for a shoo-in like himself. When he opened the door, however, he saw that the fellow was still standing where he had left him. He came in and smiled, not knowing how to begin. ‘Something came up,’ he said at last.
“‘I know,’ the young man said. ‘The board of directors has denied me.’
“‘It was astonishing to me. Naturally as chairman I did not exercise a vote. Objections were raised. I’m sorry.’
“‘May I ask what the objections were?’
“‘These meetings,’ the chairman said, ‘they’re confidential.’
“‘Never mind,’ the young man said, ‘perhaps I already know.’
“‘There was no animosity. And if you like, of course we want you to stay on in your present job. The letters—’
“‘The letters were thrilling,’ the young man said.
“‘They were very enthusiastic,’ the chairman said.
“‘But they contradicted—’
“‘They presented a picture of four different men,’ the chairman said.
“‘Yes,’ the shoo-in said.
“‘Naturally the directors were confused. They felt that since each letter carried equal weight, they weren’t competent to determine which estimate was the one…And someone suggested afterwards that his own enthusiasm for your character and work lay in different directions entirely from the ones he had seen represented in the letters. My reactions too are…You see how it is?’
“‘Yes.’
“‘A man should be fixed,’ the chairman said. ‘The board felt that a certain firmness was lacking—’
“‘That one ought to know his necessity and bow down to it?’
“‘Yes,’ the chairman said, ‘that’s it.’
“‘One is what one is?’
“‘Properly so,’ the chairman said, ‘yes.’
“‘No,’ the young man said. ‘What you call character is the mere obstinacy of the self, the sinister will’s solipsist
I am
. One adjusts his humanity to the humanity of others. Not
I am
, but
You are
—there’s the necessity. Love cooperates; it plays ball. I hate a chaos. Does the company need me?’
“‘I beg your pardon?’
“‘You said I might stay if
I
wished it. What does the board wish?’
“‘Well, of course, we talked mainly of your candidacy, but your work’s been splendid and I get the feeling that all of us would regret your going.’
“‘I shall stay on then,’ the young man told him.
“He is there today,” the warden said. “The firm has prospered. It has built new plants. Thousands are employed. It pays enormous taxes to the government, and the government uses the money to build ships and planes that defend us all. That is the parable of the shoo-in. Beautiful, isn’t it? Isn’t it beautiful?”
“Yes, Warden,” a man said.
“Yes, Warden,” some others chipped in.
The cry went up throughout the hall. “Yes, Warden. Yes, Warden.”
The warden raised his hands for silence. “
But he didn’t get the job
, is that what you’re thinking? Is it? You bad men, is that what you’re thinking? No ‘making warden’s mouths’ this time. Answer in your hearts. Well, you’re wrong. He got the job. He
got
the job. And when the old man died, he got
his
job too. He got everybody’s job. And he bought out other companies and deposed the chairmen, and he got
their
jobs too. Today the men who wrote those letters work for him. That’s what flexibility does. Right there,
that’s
what it does! That’s what it does, you guys stuck in your casings of self like pure pork sausage!
There are no piker saints!
”
The warden paused, then stepped forward. When he spoke again his voice was soft. “There’s some prison business,” he said. It was what he always said before announcing policy changes, and the men, who had seemed confused during his parable, now looked more confident. A few had brought pencils to take down whatever he said. This was a prisoner’s privilege, since it was the warden’s custom frequently to introduce new rules or to abridge old ones during a Warden’s Assembly. The changes would affect them all, but they were never written down by the administration. The warden preferred that there be a sort of oral tradition in the penitentiary. Indeed, it was his boast that the prison did not even own a mimeograph machine. But, thought Feldman when he heard this, an electric chair they’ve got.
The warden’s reasons for denying the men any codified regulations were perfectly apparent, Feldman thought. Since infractions were met with severe punishments, it became the responsibility of the men themselves, as well as their best interest, to try to understand the warden—in short to
listen
. Nevertheless, they were allowed a certain latitude here. The most literate of the convicts were appointed by their fellow inmates to catch the warden’s words on the tips of their pencils. Later their notes were checked, double-checked, collated against the notes of the other scribes. (In this way a certain respect for scholarship was induced too. Feldman had never been anywhere where there was a more genuine admiration of those who knew facts, though a scholar’s mistakes earned him beatings.) Discussion groups were formed to resolve inconsistencies and to interpret what had been said. Indeed, the warden had created in effect a hard core of penal Talmudists, men who parsed intention and declined nuances like lexicographers, men adept at shorthand, good punctuators and spellers who wrote with a strong, legible hand. Now, as he glanced about, Feldman saw their strained attentions, their lick-lead alertness; they seemed passionate, fools leaning forward.