flower-pattern cushions, drank Scotch, and smoked a Chesterfield.
“The stock closed yesterday at eighteen and three quarters,” said Number One. “Two years ago it sold at sixty. We’re all poorer than we used to be.”
“It’s the economy,” said Loren. “They drove Nixon out of office—”
“We’re holding on to barely two percent of the automotive market,” said Number One. “And the refrigerators aren’t selling well either, in spite of hiring that expensive broad to open and shut the doors on television.”
“The price of plastics went up,” said Loren.
“Went up for everybody,” said Number One.
“They squeeze out the smaller companies,” said Roberta. “It’s always that way. Basic economics. General Motors and General Electric can achieve economies of scale that we can’t. It’s a fact of life.”
Number One noticed the “we.” He raised one eyebrow slightly. “I competed effectively for many years,” he said. “How do you explain that?”
“You built an automobile people wanted to buy,” said Roberta. “So did Studebaker. So did Packard. So did Hudson and Nash. People could always buy a Ford or a Chevy, but some people wanted a Sundancer. The fore-and-aft Studebaker was a funny-looking damned car, but it appealed to a lot of buyers. It was distinctive. So was the Sundancer.”
“Yes, and by God we survived them,” said Number One. “You can’t buy a Studebaker today, but you can buy a Sundancer.”
“We lose money on every unit we produce,” said Loren.
“We lose money on your goddamned refrigerators! Don’t tell me again to get out of the automobile business. I’m not getting out.”
“The company will go under,” said Loren sadly.
Number One looked at Roberta.
“No, it won’t,” she said. “Between the two of you there’s enough smarts to air-condition hell.” She reached across to Loren and patted his shoulder. “I’ve got confidence in this man, Mr. Hardeman.”
Number One lifted off his hat for a moment and used it tofan his bald head. “Son,” he said to his grandson. “Get this idea of surrendering the automobile business out of your head. Concentrate on making our cars sell. I know you can do it.”
Loren stared at Roberta, and she nodded. “Grandfather, I hate to say this … but I’m afraid we have to face the fact that Angelo Perino is right. The Sundancer is too big. It burns too much gas. We’ve got to build cars—”
“With fuckin’ transverse engines!” Number One yelled. “And what they call ‘power trains’ instead of transmissions. And … and you’re going to tell me next that we can’t build them.”
Loren shook his head. “No. We can’t build them. Oh, sure, we can build anything, given enough time and investment. But the competition is already ahead of us. If we buy the power units in Japan—”
“And build half-breed cars—”
“It’s our last chance,” said Loren bluntly.
“All right, son,” said Number One quietly. “Tell me. Make a flat statement. Tell me we have to build these half-Jap cars to stay in the car business.”
“Grandfather, we have to build these half-Jap cars to stay in the business,” Loren recited grimly.
“We have the people?”
“We’ll find them.”
“I don’t have to tell you who we need.”
Loren shook his head. “No. No, by God! No! That wop son of a bitch—”
“We need him, goddamnit! On an understanding. He works for you. Haven’t we taught him that lesson: that when he works for us, he works for us?’
“He won’t come.”
Number One smiled. “I can get him. I’ll get him down here in twenty-four hours. And between the two of us, we’ll make him fuckin’ dance to our tune.”
3
Number One went to bed early, immediately after dinner. He had placed a call to Angelo Perino in New York, but the secretary said that Mr. Perino would not be in NewYork until sometime tomorrow. Loren and Roberta stayed at the dinner table after Number One was wheeled
“The stock closed yesterday at eighteen and three quarters,” said Number One. “Two years ago it sold at sixty. We’re all poorer than we used to be.”
“It’s the economy,” said Loren. “They drove Nixon out of office—”
“We’re holding on to barely two percent of the automotive market,” said Number One. “And the refrigerators aren’t selling well either, in spite of hiring that expensive broad to open and shut the doors on television.”
“The price of plastics went up,” said Loren.
“Went up for everybody,” said Number One.
“They squeeze out the smaller companies,” said Roberta. “It’s always that way. Basic economics. General Motors and General Electric can achieve economies of scale that we can’t. It’s a fact of life.”
Number One noticed the “we.” He raised one eyebrow slightly. “I competed effectively for many years,” he said. “How do you explain that?”
“You built an automobile people wanted to buy,” said Roberta. “So did Studebaker. So did Packard. So did Hudson and Nash. People could always buy a Ford or a Chevy, but some people wanted a Sundancer. The fore-and-aft Studebaker was a funny-looking damned car, but it appealed to a lot of buyers. It was distinctive. So was the Sundancer.”
“Yes, and by God we survived them,” said Number One. “You can’t buy a Studebaker today, but you can buy a Sundancer.”
“We lose money on every unit we produce,” said Loren.
“We lose money on your goddamned refrigerators! Don’t tell me again to get out of the automobile business. I’m not getting out.”
“The company will go under,” said Loren sadly.
Number One looked at Roberta.
“No, it won’t,” she said. “Between the two of you there’s enough smarts to air-condition hell.” She reached across to Loren and patted his shoulder. “I’ve got confidence in this man, Mr. Hardeman.”
Number One lifted off his hat for a moment and used it tofan his bald head. “Son,” he said to his grandson. “Get this idea of surrendering the automobile business out of your head. Concentrate on making our cars sell. I know you can do it.”
Loren stared at Roberta, and she nodded. “Grandfather, I hate to say this … but I’m afraid we have to face the fact that Angelo Perino is right. The Sundancer is too big. It burns too much gas. We’ve got to build cars—”
“With fuckin’ transverse engines!” Number One yelled. “And what they call ‘power trains’ instead of transmissions. And … and you’re going to tell me next that we can’t build them.”
Loren shook his head. “No. We can’t build them. Oh, sure, we can build anything, given enough time and investment. But the competition is already ahead of us. If we buy the power units in Japan—”
“And build half-breed cars—”
“It’s our last chance,” said Loren bluntly.
“All right, son,” said Number One quietly. “Tell me. Make a flat statement. Tell me we have to build these half-Jap cars to stay in the car business.”
“Grandfather, we have to build these half-Jap cars to stay in the business,” Loren recited grimly.
“We have the people?”
“We’ll find them.”
“I don’t have to tell you who we need.”
Loren shook his head. “No. No, by God! No! That wop son of a bitch—”
“We need him, goddamnit! On an understanding. He works for you. Haven’t we taught him that lesson: that when he works for us, he works for us?’
“He won’t come.”
Number One smiled. “I can get him. I’ll get him down here in twenty-four hours. And between the two of us, we’ll make him fuckin’ dance to our tune.”
3
Number One went to bed early, immediately after dinner. He had placed a call to Angelo Perino in New York, but the secretary said that Mr. Perino would not be in NewYork until sometime tomorrow. Loren and Roberta stayed at the dinner table after Number One was wheeled
Similar Books
