Sloan Wilson - Man in the Gray Flannel Suit

I’m wasting time, he thought — I’ve got to get to work. The next thing to do, he decided, was to write some introductory remarks for Hopkins to use at the first meeting of the exploratory committee on mental health. “It’s very kind of you to accept my invitation to meet here to discuss one of the great problems of the day,” he wrote. “It is my hope that from this meeting will stem. ”

ON THE EVENING of October 8, Tom and Betsy Rath went to the Town Hall in South Bay to attend the public hearing on the proposed new school. The town hall was stuffy, and the people filing in from the commuting trains looked bored. The chair on which Tom sat was hard, and he was tired. He squirmed restlessly. Why is it that important public issues always have to be decided in places like this? he thought. Somehow the hard chairs, the smoky room, and the rumpled coats of the weary commuters didn’t seem to be the right props for stirring decisions about anything. “How long do you think this meeting will take?” he asked Betsy.

At five minutes after eight, Bernstein, who had been appointed moderator, walked out on a raised platform at the front of the hall. He foresaw an evening of bitter argument, and his stomach was already beginning to ache. Sitting behind a wooden table, he picked up a gavel and tapped it lightly. Gradually the big auditorium quieted down. “Good evening,” Bernstein said. “We have gathered here for a hearing on an eight-hundred-thousand-dollar bond issue which has been proposed for a new elementary school, and which we will vote on a week from today. The call for this meeting has been duly published in the newspaper, and I hereby make a motion that we dispense with reading it.”

“Motion seconded,” someone from the audience called.

“All in favor say ‘Aye,’ ” Bernstein said.

“Aye!” the audience thundered.

“Nay?” Bernstein asked.

“No!” a lone, derisive voice called, and the audience laughed.

“The Ayes have it,” Bernstein said, and thought, They seem good humored, but a crowd’s laughter can be a symptom of tension. He cleared his throat and said, “To begin the proceedings, Dr. Clyde Eustace, Superintendent of Schools, will tell why he believes a new elementary school is necessary.”

Eustace, who had been sitting in the front row, climbed to the platform. He was a large man, but his voice was surprisingly soft. “Ladies and gentlemen, it’s very simple,” he said. “Although the present elementary school building is badly overcrowded, the welfare of our children is only one question to be discussed tonight. Another basic issue is whether this town should be allowed to grow any more. If you build houses you have to build schools. The main thing I want to point out is that if you decide to vote no on this school, you are voting against any further development of this community, and. ”

A tall, gray-haired man in the front row stood up. “I’m willing to fight it out on those grounds,” he said.

Bernstein banged his gavel. “Dr. Eustace has the floor!” he said sharply.

Betsy glanced at Tom. “Who’s that?” she asked.

“Parkington’s his name,” Tom replied. “He was an old friend of Grandmother’s — they used to feud all the time.”

“Eustace doesn’t have to say any more,” Parkington persisted. “He’s named the basic issue.”

“Dr. Eustace will have the floor until I as moderator recognize someone else, and I have not yet recognized you, Mr. Partington,” Bernstein said firmly, and banged his gavel again. “Dr. Eustace, please continue.”

Parkington sat down. Eustace went on to give many facts and figures about the need for a new school. He talked too long, and the tone of his voice became monotonous. As soon as he was through, Parkington stood up again.

“All right, Mr. Parkington, you may have the floor now,” Bernstein said.

“Let’s just go back to what Dr. Eustace said a few moments ago,” Parkington began in a deep voice. “If you vote no on this school, you vote against further development of this community — and, if I may say so, against further deterioration. What I’m trying to tell everyone here tonight is that’s exactly what you should do.”

“That’s bad for our housing project,” Tom whispered to Betsy. “Parkington’s nuts, but he’s pretty powerful around here.”

“This has always been a good town, a beautiful town,” Parkington continued passionately. “I was born and brought up here. I’ve never been able to understand why people move here because they like the place and then start to change it. This new school will send taxes up. That will drive the owners of big estates out. If the big estates are broken up, housing projects will come in. Housing projects bring more children than they do money. The average small house owner pays the town only about a third of what it costs to educate his children. Who’s going to make up the difference?”

There was a rising murmur from the audience, and several people tried to speak at once. Bernstein slammed the table with his gavel. “Mr. Parkington still has the floor,” he said. “Do you wish to continue, Mr. Parkington?”

“Yes,” said Parkington. “I just want to point out that if this school is built, it won’t be six months before another one is needed. I’ve heard a rumor that the old Rath estate is going to be made into a housing development. I’d like to come right out and ask Mr. Rath about that now. I know he’s here tonight, because I saw him come in. He’s sitting right there in one of the back rows. How about it, Tom? Aren’t you just waiting for this school to go through, so you can get permission from the Zoning Board to cut up your land?”

“Mr. Rath, would you care to comment?” Bernstein asked. His stomach was hurting quite badly now.

Slowly Tom stood up. There was a rustling sound throughout the auditorium as people twisted in their seats to see him. He glanced at Betsy and saw she looked nervous. Mechanically he smiled at her. The hall seemed astonishingly quiet, and all faces were turned toward him. His mouth felt dry. “I didn’t come prepared to give a talk. ” he began lamely.

Somewhere in the crowd there was a snicker, which quickly grew into laughter. Bernstein tapped his gavel. “Mr. Rath, please step to the front of the hall,” he said.

Awkwardly Tom edged his way to the aisle. The walk to the front of the auditorium seemed endless. Then he was on the platform facing the crowd, and the laughter subsided. The upturned faces blurred. It doesn’t really matter, he thought. Here goes nothing. It will be interesting to see what happens. “All right,” he said suddenly in a firm voice, “the rumor is true. I plan to ask the Zoning Board for permission to start a housing project.”

He paused, and the hall was utterly silent. He couldn’t find Betsy’s face in the crowd. He took a deep breath. “I don’t want my plans for a housing project to hurt the chances for this new school,” he said. “They ought to be decided as separate issues. A new school is needed right now. I’ve got two children in the old one, and I’ve seen it — it’s terrible. Let’s get the new school first and fight the battle of my housing project later.”

“But the school is an opening wedge!” Parkington interrupted. Bernstein banged his gavel.

“Mr. Parkington,” Tom continued, “I think I see your point of view. I was born in South Bay too, and I like the town the way it is. As a matter of fact, I liked it even better the way it used to be, didn’t you? It was prettier before the houses went up on the golf course. What I’m trying to say is, the town is changing, and we can’t take a vote to stop change. If the Zoning Board lets me start a housing project, I’ll do everything possible to keep it from being unsightly, or a financial drain on the town, but I don’t promise to keep my grandmother’s house and land unchanged. That’s impossible. And I hope you won’t leave the school we have today unchanged. As it stands today, it’s a disgrace to all of us.”