Arthur Hailey - Overload

The declared aim of p & lfp was "to fight the profit-bloated monster GSP & L on all fronts." In various confrontations so far, p & lfp had opposed rate increases for electricity and gas, had fought licensing of a nuclear power plant, had objected to GSP & L public relations activities" ruthless propaganda unwillingly paid for by consumers," was bow Birdsong and p & lfp described it-and had urged a compulsory takeover of the power company by municipalities. Now, Birdsong's movement was seeking to join forces with the prestigious Sequoia Club in opposing the latest GSP & L expansion plans. That proposal was to be reviewed at a meeting with top club officials, due to begin shortly.

"Geez, Laura baby," Birdsong observed, his gaze still roaming the imposing paneled boardroom where they were talking, "I guess it's real 1soul-inspiring to work in a ritzy layout like this. You should see my dump.

Compared with what you got here it's a bum's nightmare."

She told him, "Our headquarters was deeded to us many years ago as part of a bequest. A condition was that we occupy the building; otherwise we would not receive the substantial income which accompanies it." At certain moments-this was one of them-Laura Bo Carmichael found the stately Cable Hill mansion, which the Sequoia Club occupied, something of an embarrassment. It was once a millionaire's town house which still bespoke wealth, and personally she would have preferred simpler quarters. To move, however, would have been financial madness. She added, "I'd prefer you not call me 'Laura baby."'

"I'll make a note of that." Grinning, Birdsong produced a notebook, unclipped a ball-point pen and wrote something down.

Putting the notebook away, he regarded the slight, trim figure of Mrs. Carmichael, then said reflectively, "Bequests, eh? From dead donors. I guess that, and those big live donors, is what keeps the Sequoia Club so rich."

"Rich is a relative word." Laura Bo Carmichael wished the three of her colleagues who were to join her for this meeting would arrive. "It's true our organization is fortunate in having national support, but we have substantial expenses."

The big bearded man chuckled. "Not so many, though, that you couldn't spread some of that bread around to other groups-doing your kind of work-which need it."

"We'll see. But," Mrs. Carmichael said firmly, "please don't assume we are so naive that you can come here posing as a poor relation, because we know better." She consulted some notes she had not intended to use until later.

"We know, for example, that your p & lfp has some twenty-five thousand members who pay three dollars a year each, collected by paid door-to-door canvassers, which adds up to $75,000 Out of that you pay yourself a salary of $20,000 a year, plus unknown expenses."

"Fella hasta make a living."

"A remarkably good one, I'd say." Laura Bo continued reading. "In addition there are your university lecture fees, another fixed salary from an activist training organization, and payment for articles you write, all of which is believed to bring your personal income as a protester to $60,000 a year."

Davey Birdsong, whose smile had grown broader while he listened, seemed not in the least taken aback. He commented, "A right nifty job of research."

It was the Sequoia Club chairman's turn to smile. "We do have an excellent research department here." She folded the notes and put them away. "None of the material I have quoted is for outside use, of course. It's merely to make you aware of our awareness that professional protesters like you have a good thing going. That mutual knowledge will save time when we get down to business."

A door opened quietly and a neat, elderly man with iron-gray hair and rimless glasses entered the boardroom.

Laura Bo said, "Mr. Birdsong, I believe you know our manager-secretary, Mr. Pritchett."

Davey Birdsong put out a large, meaty hand. "We met on the battlefield a time or two. Hiya, Pritchy!"

When his band had been pumped vigorously the newcomer said drily, "I hadn't considered environmental hearings to be battlefields, though I suppose they could be construed that way."

"Damn right, Pritchy! And when I go into battle, especially against the people's enemy, Golden State Power, I fire every big gun and keep on firing. Tough 'n' tougher, that's the prescription. Oh, I'm not saying there isn't a place for your kind of opposition. There is!-you people bring a touch of class. I'm the one, though, who makes headlines and gets on TV news. By the way, did you kids see me on TV with that GSP & L prick, Goldman?"

“The Good Evening Show," the manager-secretary acknowledged. "Yes, I did.

I thought you were colorful, though-to be objective Goldman was shrewd in resisting your baiting." Pritchett removed his glasses to polish them.

"Perhaps, as you say, there is a place for your kind of opposition to GSP & L. Possibly, even, we need each other."

"Attaboy, Pritchy!”

“The correct pronunciation is Pritchett. Or, if you prefer, you may call me Roderick."

"I'll make a note of that, Roddy old man." Grinning broadly at Laura Bo, Birdsong went through his notebook routine once more.

While they were talking two others had come in. Laura Bo Carmichael introduced them as Irwin Saunders and Mrs. Priscilla Quinn, the remaining members of the Sequoia Club executive committee. Saunders was a balding, gravel-voiced lawyer who handled big-name divorce cases and was frequently in the news. Mrs. Quinn, fashionably dressed and attractive in her late forties, was the wife of a wealthy banker and noted for her civic zeal, also for limiting her friendships to other wealthy or important people. She accepted Davey Birdsong's outstretched band with reluctance, regarding him with a mixture of curiosity and distaste.

The chairman suggested, "I think we might all be seated and get on with business."

The five grouped themselves near one end of a long mahogany table, Laura Bo at the head.

"We are all concerned," she said, "about recent proposals of Golden State Power & Light which the Sequoia Club has already decided would 1be harmful to the environment. We will actively oppose them at forthcoming hearings."

Birdsong thumped the table loudly. "And I say: three bloody cheers for the Sequoia mob!”

Irwin Saunders appeared amused. Mrs. Quinn raised her eyebrows.

"What Mr. Birdsong has suggested in connection with that opposition," the chairman continued, "are certain liaison arrangements between our organization and his. I'll ask him to describe them."

Attention swung to Davey Birdsong. For a moment he eyed the other four amiably, one by one, then plunged into his presentation.

“The kind of opposition all of us are talking about is a war-with GSP & L the enemy. To regard the scene otherwise would be to court defeat. Therefore, just as in a war, an attack must be mounted on several fronts."

Noticeably, Birdsong had shed his clown's veneer and the earlier breeziness of language. He proceeded, "To carry the war simile a stage further-as well as doing combat on specific issues, no opportunity should be lost to snipe at GSP & L whenever such an opening occurs."

"Really," Mrs. Quinn injected, "I'm aware you advised us it was a simile, but I find this talk of war distasteful. After all . . ."

The lawyer, Saunders, reached out to touch her arm. "Priscilla, why not let him finish?"

She shrugged. "Very well."

"Causes are often lost, Mrs. Quinn," Birdsong declared, "because of too much softness, an unwillingness to face the hard nub of reality."

Saunders nodded. "A valid point."

"Let's get to specifics," Pritchett, the manager-secretary, urged. "Mr. Birdsong, you referred to 'several fronts! Precisely which?"

"Right!" Birdsong became businesslike again. "Fronts one, two and three-the public bearings on the announced plans for Tunipah, Fincastle Valley and Devil's Gate. You people will fight on all of them. So will my gallant p & lfp."