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In the early days of America when the energy emanated from the cities, the chieftains of most big companies had their headquarters in skyscrapers, a subliminal game of mine is bigger than yours. As communications improved and the quality of city life deteriorated, they grew increasingly tired of the urban ratrace and started an exodus to the suburbs, one step closer to the countryside.
UBI was one of the first major companies who had left the city. Their campus, as they called it, for they were in a real sense an institute of higher learning, covered several square miles of Westchester countryside. It was a city in itself with all the necessary amenities. The only difference was that its people went home at night, and the perfectly manicured lawns never had children treading on them or dogs fouling the sidewalks. It all seemed a bit unreal.
This isolation from the real world did not come by accident. To get to the CFO's office we passed through no less than four checkpoints. Everything was done with the military precision one might expect from a company whose success was based on infinitesimal accuracy.
Sam and I languished in a waiting room, talking about our holiday plans. I was planning to fly South, either to Dewey's in Charleston, or to meet Stokely and Tess at Valhalla. I was going to do both, but couldn't make up my mind which to do at Easter and which to do over my birthday weekend at the end of May. Suddenly the CFO's secretary stuck her head in the door.
"I'm afraid Mr. Noble is going to be detained for another half hour, gentlemen. He has suggested that perhaps you could pass the time in our newly opened company museum downstairs...unless of course you would prefer to remain here."
Sam and I looked at each other and shrugged our shoulders. "Why not?" I said. "We're here to talk about their future. We might as well go look at their past."
The company museum was one of those partitioned exhibits set up in a large room that followed a neatly choreographed path with music and films. Not surprisingly for a computer company, it was heavy on computer-generated graphics.
The first four exhibits were of special interest to me.
The first picture was of Helmut's census tabulating machine. The next one was a picture of Thomas MacEnzie, Helmut, Henry Ford, and Thomas Edison, all in front of Helmut's boat the Eric. The date was 1913. The next was a small paragraph explaining the roots of the company, how it had started off as a joint venture between Helmut and MacEnzie called the Tabulating Machine Company, and how in 1915 they had changed the name to Universal Business Implements.
The fourth exhibit startled me a bit. Underneath a photo of a document was the title: The MacEnzie family takes full control of UBI. It was the Shareholder's Agreement where Thomas MacEnzie bought out all of Helmut's shares. In appearance it was similar to the one I had seen in the safety deposit box in Richmond. The layout matched the other, although the photo was only of the first two pages. I looked closer.
The wording was almost exactly the same as the one I had seen before. WHEREAS, in order to engage in business blah blah blah on the date herein set forth. I looked at the date of the agreement on the top. It said the
18th of April, 1916. I checked my watch. It was also April 18th. Lydia's birthday.
"A coincidence," I muttered.
"What is?" asked Sam.
"The date on this agreement. It's today. Lydia's birthday...or was, I should say."
"Oh," said Sam. What else could he say? Now was not the right time to start talking of Lydia again. We walked on through the rest of the museum.
Something bothered me. Something was not quite right. It was like looking at a famous picture that had been purposely altered for a contest. Something was out of kilter.
Like a pebble in my shoe, this inconsistency niggled me through the rest of the exhibits and into our meeting.
Mr. Noble ushered us into his office. We began to speak. Sam did most of our talking, explaining our track record. He didn't have much to explain, as Noble was a friend of his.
It was one of the most important business meetings I had ever been in, and yet I could not concentrate. Sam rambled on and then began to ask questions, and yet I was far far away.
Lydia's birthday. She always said that it marked the start of the birthday season. Her birthday, her father's birthday, her sister's, my birthday, my brother's. Six weeks of remembering cards and presents. The beginning of the birthday season.
Something slotted in my brain. My birthday. I was sure that the date on the Shareholder's Agreement I had seen in Richmond was my birthday. I was sure of it. My memory was clear. I could not be mistaken.
"Four major operating divisions. PCs, mainframes, semiconductors, and research." Mr. Noble was droning on. I was nodding my head but I wasn't paying attention.
The inconsistency was bothering me. The document in the museum was dated April 18th and represented the final buyout of Helmut. The document in Richmond was dated my birthday, May 26th, five weeks later, and Helmut had 25% of the company. This made no sense.
Time plays tricks on the memory. This had to be the explanation. Or perhaps something else. The year. Of course, that had to be it. Perhaps the year was different. Perhaps the document I had seen had been May 26th of the previous year. That would explain it. My mind was put at ease.
"What do you think, Evan?"
I was brutally jerked out of my reverie by Sam, who was looking at me with burning eyes. Pay attention, buddy, they were saying in no uncertain terms.
"Uh...I think you're right on that point, Sam." He knew me well enough to know that I had been circling Venus, and this was a warning shot for me to come back down to Earth.
"Yes, and as I was saying, our strategy is to make the unbundling and disposal of key operating divisions prohibitive for the predator. This discourages....," he went on, a professional who had done this hundreds of times before.
I focussed in on the meeting once again, and it went well. We spent an hour, and had the full ear of Noble.
As we were leaving and putting on our coats, Sam nudged me.
"For a minute there, I thought I had lost you. Is something wrong?"
I realised then just how much I had leaned on Sam for the past few months. For sure he thought I had been thinking of Lydia's birthday, which in a way was true. I could not explain any further though. I would come off sounding like a complete idiot.
"Sorry, Sam. I know it's difficult to understand," I started.
He cut me off. "It's alright. You know I've been through it too."
"Thanks," I offered.
As we went downstairs, we went past the entrance to the museum again. Suddenly I had to check one thing. "Uh, Sam, could you wait a minute?" I asked him. "I just want to look at something."
He looked surprised, but shrugged his shoulders. "Sure. We're in no hurry," he said with that slight tinge of sarcasm which I knew so well.
"One minute." I hurried into the exhibit and went straight to the picture of the document on the wall. I wrote down the date. 18th of April, 1916, and put it on a slip of paper in my wallet. I wanted to be sure.
"Thanks," I said to Sam as we went out the door. "My friend's great grandfather was Helmut Hoeflinger. I'd already told you that, hadn't I?" I knew I had.
"You are getting forgetful," Sam chided. "You really do need a holiday." We resumed talking about our Easter plans on the way home in the car.
The meeting at UBI had clinched it. I would see if I could go to Valhalla for Easter.
The first thing I did when I got home was call Tess. I just caught her before she was going out for a bike ride.
"Hi, Evan. It's great to hear from you." She was cheery over the phone. Suddenly I wanted to see her. I missed my friends. "You're lucky you caught me," she continued. "I'm going for a quick ride in the mountains before the sun goes down. The rhodedendron and laurel are all out, and the evenings at this time of year are perfect. What's the weather like up there?"
This was a calculated jibe. Anyone who stayed in the South after Duke never missed a chance to get in a dig at the weather in the Northeast, especially in winter or early spring when the difference could be great.
I couldn't argue with her. There had been freak snow flurries only the week before.
"Pas terrible," I said. Using the odd french phrase was a private joke between us. Tess once told me a good joke about one WASP who said to the other: "Bill, you're a great guy, but sometimes you seem a little stuck up...you know...pretentious?" Bill looked to his companion, splayed his hands quizzically on his chest and said with upturned eyebrows: "Moi?"
"Tant pis," she continued our little charade, pleased to see that we could still joke around.
"That's why I called, actually.I wanted to know what your plans for Easter were, and see if I could horn in. Are you going to Valhalla?"
"Well, the last time I spoke to Mom we were still going to meet up at 1819 this year. I don't think the others want to go to Valhalla, but I would be game. Of course you can come." She seemed genuinely pleased. "It would really be great to see you, and Mom and Dad would be thrilled."
"What about Stokely? Is he coming?"
Thanksgiving and Christmas with the whole clan were perhaps too much for him. She sounded a bit downcast. "No, I don't think so. At least that is what he said last week. Maybe he'll change his mind if he knows you're coming."
"So it's okay? You're sure?"
"Evan. You know I'd tell you if it were any different."
It was settled then. I told her that I would make the flight plans immediately, and that I would come down on the Thursday night before Good Friday on the shuttle, planning to stay at 1819 through Easter and then perhaps go to Valhalla for three or four days afterwards. That was less than a week away, and I had to be quick. We didn't talk too much longer, as I knew that the sun didn't wait around for telephone calls before heading down, especially in the Blue Ridge mountains.
I hung up without having a chance to tell her about my visit to UBI. No matter. It was just as well we were going to 1819. Beside being big enough to house the whole clan comfortably under one roof, all of Helmut's papers were located there in the room Stokely had told me about on the fourth floor. This time I would pay a visit there and see if I could resolve the conundrum I had come across.
I then called Stokely at his office in California. I spoke to his secretary. He apparently was on a two week business trip to the Far East, with stops in Tokyo, Korea, Hong Kong, and Singapore. He had only left the day before. There was no need to inquire any further from him. The sun had already gone down on his day and there was no way he would be coming to Washington to join me and the rest of his clan for Easter at Helmut's palatial residence.
In the rambling mansion in Georgetown, the addition or absence of one extra body would make little difference, and certainly no difference at all to the unconscious form of Aunt Lillian. There she lay mute and still in her bed, totally unaware of the life that went on around her while her own slipped steadily away in the fading twilight of her existence.
Return to Table of Contents
In the early days of America when the energy emanated from the cities, the chieftains of most big companies had their headquarters in skyscrapers, a subliminal game of mine is bigger than yours. As communications improved and the quality of city life deteriorated, they grew increasingly tired of the urban ratrace and started an exodus to the suburbs, one step closer to the countryside.
UBI was one of the first major companies who had left the city. Their campus, as they called it, for they were in a real sense an institute of higher learning, covered several square miles of Westchester countryside. It was a city in itself with all the necessary amenities. The only difference was that its people went home at night, and the perfectly manicured lawns never had children treading on them or dogs fouling the sidewalks. It all seemed a bit unreal.
This isolation from the real world did not come by accident. To get to the CFO's office we passed through no less than four checkpoints. Everything was done with the military precision one might expect from a company whose success was based on infinitesimal accuracy.
Sam and I languished in a waiting room, talking about our holiday plans. I was planning to fly South, either to Dewey's in Charleston, or to meet Stokely and Tess at Valhalla. I was going to do both, but couldn't make up my mind which to do at Easter and which to do over my birthday weekend at the end of May. Suddenly the CFO's secretary stuck her head in the door.
"I'm afraid Mr. Noble is going to be detained for another half hour, gentlemen. He has suggested that perhaps you could pass the time in our newly opened company museum downstairs...unless of course you would prefer to remain here."
Sam and I looked at each other and shrugged our shoulders. "Why not?" I said. "We're here to talk about their future. We might as well go look at their past."
The company museum was one of those partitioned exhibits set up in a large room that followed a neatly choreographed path with music and films. Not surprisingly for a computer company, it was heavy on computer-generated graphics.
The first four exhibits were of special interest to me.
The first picture was of Helmut's census tabulating machine. The next one was a picture of Thomas MacEnzie, Helmut, Henry Ford, and Thomas Edison, all in front of Helmut's boat the Eric. The date was 1913. The next was a small paragraph explaining the roots of the company, how it had started off as a joint venture between Helmut and MacEnzie called the Tabulating Machine Company, and how in 1915 they had changed the name to Universal Business Implements.
The fourth exhibit startled me a bit. Underneath a photo of a document was the title: The MacEnzie family takes full control of UBI. It was the Shareholder's Agreement where Thomas MacEnzie bought out all of Helmut's shares. In appearance it was similar to the one I had seen in the safety deposit box in Richmond. The layout matched the other, although the photo was only of the first two pages. I looked closer.
The wording was almost exactly the same as the one I had seen before. WHEREAS, in order to engage in business blah blah blah on the date herein set forth. I looked at the date of the agreement on the top. It said the 18th of April, 1916. I checked my watch. It was also April 18th. Lydia's birthday.
"A coincidence," I muttered.
"What is?" asked Sam.
"The date on this agreement. It's today. Lydia's birthday...or was, I should say."
"Oh," said Sam. What else could he say? Now was not the right time to start talking of Lydia again. We walked on through the rest of the museum.
Something bothered me. Something was not quite right. It was like looking at a famous picture that had been purposely altered for a contest. Something was out of kilter.
Like a pebble in my shoe, this inconsistency niggled me through the rest of the exhibits and into our meeting.
Mr. Noble ushered us into his office. We began to speak. Sam did most of our talking, explaining our track record. He didn't have much to explain, as Noble was a friend of his.
It was one of the most important business meetings I had ever been in, and yet I could not concentrate. Sam rambled on and then began to ask questions, and yet I was far far away.
Lydia's birthday. She always said that it marked the start of the birthday season. Her birthday, her father's birthday, her sister's, my birthday, my brother's. Six weeks of remembering cards and presents. The beginning of the birthday season.
Something slotted in my brain. My birthday. I was sure that the date on the Shareholder's Agreement I had seen in Richmond was my birthday. I was sure of it. My memory was clear. I could not be mistaken.
"Four major operating divisions. PCs, mainframes, semiconductors, and research." Mr. Noble was droning on. I was nodding my head but I wasn't paying attention.
The inconsistency was bothering me. The document in the museum was dated April 18th and represented the final buyout of Helmut. The document in Richmond was dated my birthday, May 26th, five weeks later, and Helmut had 25% of the company. This made no sense.
Time plays tricks on the memory. This had to be the explanation. Or perhaps something else. The year. Of course, that had to be it. Perhaps the year was different. Perhaps the document I had seen had been May 26th of the previous year. That would explain it. My mind was put at ease.
"What do you think, Evan?"
I was brutally jerked out of my reverie by Sam, who was looking at me with burning eyes. Pay attention, buddy, they were saying in no uncertain terms.
"Uh...I think you're right on that point, Sam." He knew me well enough to know that I had been circling Venus, and this was a warning shot for me to come back down to Earth.
"Yes, and as I was saying, our strategy is to make the unbundling and disposal of key operating divisions prohibitive for the predator. This discourages....," he went on, a professional who had done this hundreds of times before.
I focussed in on the meeting once again, and it went well. We spent an hour, and had the full ear of Noble.
As we were leaving and putting on our coats, Sam nudged me.
"For a minute there, I thought I had lost you. Is something wrong?"
I realised then just how much I had leaned on Sam for the past few months. For sure he thought I had been thinking of Lydia's birthday, which in a way was true. I could not explain any further though. I would come off sounding like a complete idiot.
"Sorry, Sam. I know it's difficult to understand," I started.
He cut me off. "It's alright. You know I've been through it too."
"Thanks," I offered.
As we went downstairs, we went past the entrance to the museum again. Suddenly I had to check one thing. "Uh, Sam, could you wait a minute?" I asked him. "I just want to look at something."
He looked surprised, but shrugged his shoulders. "Sure. We're in no hurry," he said with that slight tinge of sarcasm which I knew so well.
"One minute." I hurried into the exhibit and went straight to the picture of the document on the wall. I wrote down the date. 18th of April, 1916, and put it on a slip of paper in my wallet. I wanted to be sure.
"Thanks," I said to Sam as we went out the door. "My friend's great grandfather was Helmut Hoeflinger. I'd already told you that, hadn't I?" I knew I had.
"You are getting forgetful," Sam chided. "You really do need a holiday." We resumed talking about our Easter plans on the way home in the car.
The meeting at UBI had clinched it. I would see if I could go to Valhalla for Easter.
The first thing I did when I got home was call Tess. I just caught her before she was going out for a bike ride.
"Hi, Evan. It's great to hear from you." She was cheery over the phone. Suddenly I wanted to see her. I missed my friends. "You're lucky you caught me," she continued. "I'm going for a quick ride in the mountains before the sun goes down. The rhodedendron and laurel are all out, and the evenings at this time of year are perfect. What's the weather like up there?"
This was a calculated jibe. Anyone who stayed in the South after Duke never missed a chance to get in a dig at the weather in the Northeast, especially in winter or early spring when the difference could be great.
I couldn't argue with her. There had been freak snow flurries only the week before.
"Pas terrible," I said. Using the odd french phrase was a private joke between us. Tess once told me a good joke about one WASP who said to the other: "Bill, you're a great guy, but sometimes you seem a little stuck up...you know...pretentious?" Bill looked to his companion, splayed his hands quizzically on his chest and said with upturned eyebrows: "Moi?"
"Tant pis," she continued our little charade, pleased to see that we could still joke around.
"That's why I called, actually.I wanted to know what your plans for Easter were, and see if I could horn in. Are you going to Valhalla?"
"Well, the last time I spoke to Mom we were still going to meet up at 1819 this year. I don't think the others want to go to Valhalla, but I would be game. Of course you can come." She seemed genuinely pleased. "It would really be great to see you, and Mom and Dad would be thrilled."
"What about Stokely? Is he coming?"
Thanksgiving and Christmas with the whole clan were perhaps too much for him. She sounded a bit downcast. "No, I don't think so. At least that is what he said last week. Maybe he'll change his mind if he knows you're coming."
"So it's okay? You're sure?"
"Evan. You know I'd tell you if it were any different."
It was settled then. I told her that I would make the flight plans immediately, and that I would come down on the Thursday night before Good Friday on the shuttle, planning to stay at 1819 through Easter and then perhaps go to Valhalla for three or four days afterwards. That was less than a week away, and I had to be quick. We didn't talk too much longer, as I knew that the sun didn't wait around for telephone calls before heading down, especially in the Blue Ridge mountains.
I hung up without having a chance to tell her about my visit to UBI. No matter. It was just as well we were going to 1819. Beside being big enough to house the whole clan comfortably under one roof, all of Helmut's papers were located there in the room Stokely had told me about on the fourth floor. This time I would pay a visit there and see if I could resolve the conundrum I had come across.
I then called Stokely at his office in California. I spoke to his secretary. He apparently was on a two week business trip to the Far East, with stops in Tokyo, Korea, Hong Kong, and Singapore. He had only left the day before. There was no need to inquire any further from him. The sun had already gone down on his day and there was no way he would be coming to Washington to join me and the rest of his clan for Easter at Helmut's palatial residence.
In the rambling mansion in Georgetown, the addition or absence of one extra body would make little difference, and certainly no difference at all to the unconscious form of Aunt Lillian. There she lay mute and still in her bed, totally unaware of the life that went on around her while her own slipped steadily away in the fading twilight of her existence. 
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