“No. And I’m sorry. It’s a sort of reversion to type, I guess. Protocol in the academic world. I hung around Cal Tech too long. If you are an instructor, and Smith is an assistant professor, and if you are twenty-two and he is twenty-three, by God, his wife is Mrs. Smith.”
“I didn’t know you’d taught, Floyd.”
“I hated the teaching part, loved the chance to check out some of my wild ideas in those fine labs. Three years of it, then five years with an independent lab — research and testing with a commercial slant. Then over to GAE. Result, I feel like an imposter.”
She tilted her head slightly, frowning, and said, “I guess everybody does, to a certain degree. There’s some exceptions. Freddy, Dave Daniels... but the rest of us feel slightly displaced.”
He realized once again that every time he was with this handsome and very human and very perceptive woman, he would marvel at her apparent love for and loyalty to a man like Jesse, who was such a big, loud, crude, mumbling extrovert. A lot of other people seemed to give Jesse love and loyalty, but so far Hubbard had been unable to discern any valid reason for it.
“I’ll keep it to Connie from now on,” he promised.
“Good.”
“You certainly seem to know a sizable chunk of this group. How many would you say are here? Seven hundred?”
“At least. But Jesse and I don’t know so many actually. We know the NAPATAN people better than the members of COLUDA. And, you know, there’s been a lot of conventions in our lives. Jesse never forgets a name or a face, but a lot of the time I have to just smile sort of blankly and mumble. When the kids were small I was housebound, but now I get taken here and there.”
“What will you do while this thing is going on?”
“Oh, shop and get some sun, and go to the more important things, and keep Jesse from getting too exhausted. Wifely work, Floyd.”
The toastmaster huffed into the microphone, and there was a stirring and shuffling as the conventioneers and their ladies hitched their chairs around to face the platform. There was a traditional welcome to all delegates, and a thanking of the joint chairmen of the arrangements committee for their splendid work in setting the convention up so that it would run smoothly and effectively. There was an exhortation to all delegates to attend the workshops and panel discussions. The industry had had a successful year, all things considered. Of course there was dissension, but without irritation, oysters would never produce pearls. The exhibits this year were the finest ever. The program was the most exciting ever devised. And now there would be two addresses, one by Jerry Kipp, president of COLUDA, and the other by Jesse Mulaney, president of NAPATAN.
Kipp, a small, nervous, bespectacled man gave, with a total absence of humor, a speech apparently intended to create a great, selfless dedication and devotion to the industry, and its place in the great onward march of America.
Mulaney was introduced next. He stood at the lectern and after the applause had died down he let the silence grow. He looked out at the multitude with a slow owlish grin.
“I knew I’d have to do this. And I knew they’d fix me good. They put Bill and Jerry on first. By the time Bill was through, I’d crossed out half my speech. Jerry gave you the other half of my speech. So here I am standing up here like a nut.
“As you know, I’m the out-going president of NAPATAN, after the usual two years in this high office, where, according to honored precedent, I got the other fellows to do all the work.
“As I stand here, I see other ex-presidents out there. Fletch, Harry Mallory, Dix Weaver. They’re honorary directors of NAPATAN now, same as I’ll be. If there’s anybody does less work than the president, it’s an honorary director.
“During this convention, NAPATAN will elect a new president. Like the other officers and the members of the board, I have to go around pretending I don’t know who it will be. That, too, is part of our tradition.
“Sixteen years ago I was elected to the board. Twelve years ago I was made recording secretary in spite of everything I did to wiggle out of it. Eight years ago I was made treasurer. Four years ago I became vice president. Two years ago, at the convention in Atlanta, I made my speech of acceptance as president, and that night I told my wife Connie that finally I could relax and start taking the bows for all the work the other fellows were going to do.
“I suppose that right here is the place where I should point with pride. I don’t know. I’ve never had much trust in long lists of accomplishments. Oh, sure, we’ve got such a list. But to me, NAPATAN has been the way we can stand face to face... without agitating the anti-trust boys. And it has been these inter-company contacts which, over the twenty-four years since NAPATAN was founded, that have turned this industry from a cut-throat jungle into... into a respectable place to spend your life.
“Now don’t get the idea everybody has given up sharp-shooting, and this has turned into a great big Bible school. Every company in this industry is still rough and tough and eager, because they have to be to survive. But NAPATAN has at least given us an arena where the rules are posted and nobody hits you after the bell.
“I don’t know just how to say what I want to say to you people. To me... and I guess you know I’m a sentimental man... the breath of life itself is the strong, warm, honest contact between human beings.”
He was silent for many seconds, and when he spoke again his voice was husky and uncertain. “Even if NAPATAN had failed at all the ambitious things it tried to do, I would still treasure my long association with it. Because... through this organization... I have been privileged to become a friend of... of some of the finest men our society has ever produced.”
The applause was long and loud. People here and there began to stand, applauding, and soon the multitude was on its feet. Floyd had the uneasy feeling that perhaps too many people had underestimated Jesse Mulaney.
As the applause began to die he heard a man at the table directly behind him. “Dix Weaver’s speech. The same old crap, and it always works.”
The man’s neighbor said, “It was sixteen years he did nothing. Not two. You should hear Harry Mallory on that subject, Ed.”
“How can a guy like Mulaney fake his way so far for so long? I heard that with the new team at AGM, they’re finally catching up to that...”
“Ssshh!”
“Huh? Why’re you... Oh.”
Hubbard, as everyone began to sit down again, looked sidelong at Connie, hoping she hadn’t overheard. But he knew at once that she had. She was staring down at the table, her lips compressed, her face pink, a tear in the corner of her eye.
“That was just what they wanted to hear, Connie,” he said.
She looked at him and knuckled the tear away. She looked angry. “Certainly. That’s Jesse’s special talent, you know. Telling everybody exactly what they want to hear. That’s the secret of salesmanship.”
He made a forlorn attempt to turn it into a joke. “Not only salesmanship. Love and politics.”
She seemed to study him. “It’s a lot tougher, I imagine, to tell people the things they don’t want to hear. But some people enjoy it. A certain special type of person.”
“Connie, I... I don’t think we ought to...”
She touched his hand. “Of course. I’m sorry.”
The toastmaster made some closing announcements and adjourned the banquet meeting. Dave Daniels had returned for the speeches, but he left the moment it was over. It was ten thirty.
After the slow herd movement into the lobby, Floyd found himself with Cass and Sue Beatty. “What happens now?” he asked.
“Suite-hopping,” Cass said. “A test of endurance. Everybody visits everybody else’s suite. By my count there are twenty-three hospitality suites. One drink in each would be a masterful accomplishment. But many will try. Our little men are up there, bracing themselves for chaos. Miss Barlund shouldn’t miss this sturdy tradition. She’s over there with Stu. Sue, trot over and nab her and we’ll make a group effort.”