Spain’s grandeur, alas, was all of the past. King and Cabinet met, consulted for hours, finally emerged with their decision. Spain would purchase three million dollars’ worth of the bonds!
‘I am deeply grateful,“ Regan declared in his best Castilian. But three million did not really go very far toward getting Global off the hook.
Then there was Italy. Columbus was a man of Genoa, though he had sailed under Spanish colors. Regan was given a state dinner in Rome, ceremonially toured the Forum and the Colosseum, shook hands with Pope Adrian. Italy pledged $15,000,000 toward the support of the Fair. The Pontiff added $500,000 of Vatican funds. But he did not take at all kindly to Regan’s suggestion that selected art treasures of the Vatican be put on display at the Fair.
‘Impossible, my friend,“ His Holiness declared in flawless English. ”Raphael, Michelangelo-they do not belong in space. I cannot authorize it. We cannot take the risk.“
Regan eyed the Pope thoughtfully. Adrian was a youngish man, only sixty, forceful and farsighted. It could not hurt to ask, Regan thought.
Delicately he broached the subject. “Would Your Holiness consent, then, to attend the Fair in person? If the Pope would be present on opening day, to provide his blessing-”
Adrian looked startled. “You must be joking!”
‘On the contrary. It’s in your power to become the first Pope to enter space. Think of the effect, Your Holiness. The eyes of every Catholic in the world turned Heavenward as you address them from space, televising your message to the entire world!“
‘But I must decline,“ the Pontiff said. ”I am quite close enough to Heaven where I am.“
Was there a suggestion of interest in the Pontifical expression, Regan wondered? Was Adrian just a wee bit tempted by the thought?
Regan did not press his position. He moved on, from capital to capital.
The results were uneven. No country, in this day of global prosperity, actually wanted to refuse. On the other hand, there was the general feeling that this Exposition was America’s business, and that America would have to foot the bulk of the bills. And, of course, not every member state of the United States of Europe was ready to dig down and contribute on the spot. Some had to deliberate lengthily first. It was still only a loose confederation, and each state had a large measure of sovereignty.
England was good for ten million, Germany for fifteen, Switzerland-not a member of the U.S.E., of course-for three. France, racked by a parliamentary crisis, could not see its way clear to buying any bonds, but expressed its hope of building a pavilion at the Fair. Luxembourg bought $30,000 worth of bonds. Monaco, piqued, doubled that. The Scandinavian nations contributed a million. The Netherlands, four million.
It was adding up, Regan thought. Slowly, painfully. But at this rate he’d never unload the whole four billion. All of Europe had accounted for less than a quarter of a billion. He had hoped for more.
He had hoped, too, for more assistance from the United Nations. The U.N. had come through for two hundred million, of course-but that was only a drop out of the treasury. Bloated with wealth from the lunar mines, the United Nations certainly could have managed half a billion dollars for the Fair, Regan thought. But something had slipped up.
Onward. It was 1991, now. Twenty-one months to opening day. The Brazilians were toiling gamely away. Surfeited on caviar and pheasant, Regan continued his money-raising tour of the world.
His big hope was the Afro-Asian bloc. The real money was here; with the factories of Africa turning out heavy-duty machinery for the world, with Brazzaville producing more cars than Detroit, there should be plenty of loose cash for the taking. Proud of their new wealth, the Afro-Asian countries would logically be expected to subscribe heavily to the bonds, by way of conspicuous consumption.
Regan discovered it wasn’t necessarily so.
He met with coolness in Addis Ababa, icy politeness in Cairo, cordial correctness in Monrovia. Everyone wished him well, but no one bought bonds. “We will erect pavilions at the Fair,” they told him. But they did not intend to lend money for the Fair’s own expenses.
Regan was a trifle disturbed by this. He continued onward, into black Africa. When he came to Nigeria, biggest and richest of the African nations, he began to understand something of the problem.
He was welcomed warmly enough in Lagos, that booming skyscraper city of seven and a half million people. In a glassy eyrie high above the sprawling city, the Nigerian Prime Minister, Sir Bawala Abukawa Ngdala, black as night and close to seven feet tall, clasped Regan’s hand in fraternal friendship.
Global Factors had developed strong ties in Nigeria within the last few years. The Nigerians were ambitious and skilled, and their universities were pouring forth a profusion of technicians. But Nigeria still lacked capital. As a new nation, it had not benefited from centuries of capital formation. Global Factors had entered, had made certain advances to the Nigerians, for which they were duly grateful.
‘I’m not here on behalf of Global Factors, Bobo,“ Regan stressed. ”My presence here is strictly on behalf of the 1992 Columbian Exposition. We know that Nigeria will be eager to support this endeavor.“
Prime Minister Ngdala peered solemnly down at Regan, and said gently, “We owe a great debt to you, Claude. You have helped us build modern Nigeria into the wealthy nation it has become.”
Regan modestly remained silent. Could he expect a hundred million, he wondered? Two hundred million?
The Prime Minister continued, his voice rich as an organ’s swelling diapason, “We are obligated to you in many ways, Claude. But yet, you must try to see this from our point of view.”
Regan glanced up in alarm. What was he getting at? “You see, Claude, this is the white man’s party. If Global Factors were presenting the Fair, we would be eager to help you. But it is the Fair of the United States of America. And my people are not fond of your nation as a whole. It is unfortunate, but we cannot forget your history, we cannot erase from our national conscience the names of Mississippi, Alabama, South Carolina-”
Regan fidgeted. “All that’s gone, Bobo. We’ve changed in the past thirty years. I don’t need to tell you that the new Senator from Alabama is black, do I? Doesn’t that count for anything?”
Ngdala laughed mellowly. “One Senator, against three hundred years of slavery? No, Claude. We cannot help the white man advertise himself. Simply for us to build a pavilion at your Fair would cause agitation here. To buy your bonds might bring down my government.”
‘Aren’t you taking an extreme view?“
‘I am taking a realistic view,“ the Prime Minister said, with a finicky precision of tone that clearly conveyed absolute finality.
There was no Nigerian loan.
The Congo Federation bestirred itself to buy a million dollars’ worth of bonds-an absurdly low figure, for that wealthy nation. There, too, Regan encountered hostility, though none of it was ever voiced as honestly and as plainly as it had been in Nigeria. The East African Union was even cooler to the idea of supporting the Fair. Regan did not even dare to enter South Africa; if friendly states like Nigeria and the Congo were so uncooperative, he could hardly hope for sympathy from the rabid black racists of the Cape. White faces were rarely welcome there, these days, and certainly not those of white men asking for money.
The Middle East proved a little more interested in the idea of the Exposition. Sheikh Hassan of the Persian Gulf Republic, rich with oil, gladly pledged fifty million. President Ismail of the League of Arab States matched the pledge. Young King Abdullah of the Hashemite Union contributed thirty million. Israel did the same.
Richest of all the Arab states was Saudi Arabia, sitting atop its desert-locked treasures of oil and uranium and refractive metals. Regan journeyed to Medina, where King Feisal happened to be holding court, and was greeted effusively by the towering Wahhabi ruler. Speaking in flawless French, the desert monarch buoyed the Factor’s sagging spirits by announcing that his land would gladly buy half a billion dollars’ worth of World’s Fair bonds-the biggest single purchase, outside of that by Global Factors itself.