Arthur Hailey - Overload

Oscar O'Brien's voice brought Nim back to the present. "I presume all of you realize how long this entire process concerning Tunipah is likely to take."

Paulsen said gloomily, "Too damn long!"

Van Buren inquired, "What's your best estimate, Oscar?"

"Assuming we are successful at the various sets of hearings, and allowing for delaying court actions subsequently, which our opponents are certain to resort to-I'd say six to seven years." the general counsel shuffled papers. "You may also be interested in costs. My department estimates that our own costs-just to seek the license to build, and whether we win or lose-will be five and a half million dollars. Environmental studies will cost a few million more, and we won't have turned a spade until construction is fully licensed."

"Let us make sure, Tess," Eric Humphrey told the PR director, "that that information becomes as widely known as possible."

"I'll try," Van Buren said. "Though I can't guarantee that many outside this room will care."

“They'll care when the lights go out," Humphrey snapped. "All right, I want to review progress, if any, on our other applications Devil's Gate pumped storage and Fincastle geothermal."

"'If any' is right," O'Brien observed. He reported that so far only the earliest skirmishes through bureaucratic jungles had been accomplished. Countless others lay ahead. Meanwhile, massive opposition to Devil's Gate and Fincastle was growing . . .

Listening, Nim experienced a surge of anger at the cumbrous, inefficient system and the utility's own faintheartedness in failing to attack it strongly. Nim knew he would have trouble at the Tunipah bearings. Trouble in exercising restraint, difficulty in maintaining patience, a reluctance to curb his own harsh words which could speak the truth forthrightly.

J. Eric Humphrey sat red-faced and uncomfortable in the elevated, hard-backed witness chair. He had been there half a day-already several hours longer than the "brief appearance" Oscar O'Brien had promised him.

Three feet away, in the courtroom-like setting, Davey Birdsong stood facing the witness and towering over him. Birdsong swayed slightly as be transferred his formidable weight from his heels to the balls of his feet, then back, forward, back again. "Since you must be hard of hearing, I'll repeat my question. How much do you get paid each year?"

Humphrey, who had hesitated when the question was first posed, glanced at O'Brien, seated at counsel's table. The lawyer gave the slightest of shrugs.

Tight-lipped, the GSP&L chairman answered, "Two hundred and forty-five thousand dollars."

Birdsong waved a hand airily. "No, sport, you misunderstand me, I didn't ask the capitalization of Golden State Power &, Light. I asked how in much bread you earn."

Humphrey, unamused, replied,- "That-is the figure I gave."

"I can hardly believe it!" Birdsong clapped a hand to his bead in a theatrical gesture. "I didn't believe that any one person could earn so much money." He emitted a long, low whistle. "Wow!"

From the audience in the warm, crowded hearing room came echoing whistles and other "wows!" Someone called out, "We consumers are the ones who pay it too damn much!" there was applause for the heckler and stomping on the floor.

On the bench above, looking down at witness, questioner and spectators, the presiding commissioner reached for a gavel. He tapped with it lightly and commanded, "Order!” the commissioner, in his mid-thirties and with a pink, boyish face, had been appointed to his post a year ago after service in the ruling political party. He was an accountant by training and was rumored to be a relative of the Governor.

As the commissioner spoke, O'Brien lumbered to his feet. "Mr. Chairman, is this harassment of my witness necessary?"

The commissioner regarded Birdsong, who was wearing his uniform of shabby jeans, a multi-colored shirt open at the neck, and tennis shoes. In contrast, Humphrey, who ordered his three-piece suits from deLisi in New York and went there for fittings, was sartorially impeccable.

"You asked your question and you received an answer, Mr. Birdsong," the commissioner said. "We can manage without the theatrics. Proceed, please."

"Certainly, Mr. Chairman." Birdsong swung back to Eric Humphrey. "You did say two hundred and forty-five thousand dollars?"

“Yes, I did."

'Are there other compensations which go with being the big cheese (Laughter from the spectators.) "Excuse me-the chairman of a public utility? A personal limousine perhaps?"

Yes."

'Chauffeur-driven?"

'Yes."

'Plus a fat expense account?"

Humphrey said huffily, "I would not refer to it as fat."

"How about enormous?"

More laughter.

J. Eric Humphrey's intense displeasure was beginning to show. Essentially a high-level. administrator and in no way a rough-and-tumble fighter, he was ill-equipped to handle the flashy showmanship of Birdsong. He responded coldly, "My duties intervene certain expenses which I am permitted to charge to our company."

"I'll bet!"

O'Brien was halfway to his feet. The presiding commissioner waved him down and instructed, "Confine yourself to questions, Mr. Birdsong."

The huge bearded man grinned broadly. "Yessir!"

Seated in the public section, Nim fumed. Why didn't Humphrey answer bluntly, aggressively, as he could and should? My salary, Mr. Birdsong, is a matter of public record since it is reported to regulatory agencies and the information is easily available. I am certain that you knew it before asking the question; therefore your show of surprise was phony and deceitful. Furthermore, the salary is not out of line for the chairman and chief executive of one of the nation's largest corporations; in fact, it is smaller than in most other companies of comparable size.

One reason for the level of my salary is that industrial organizations like GSP & L are a-ware they must be competitive in recruiting and retaining executive talent. To be specific: My own experience and qualifications would certainly earn me an equal or larger salary elsewhere. You may not wholly like that system, Mr. Birdsong, but while we remain a free enterprise society, that is the way it is. As to a chauffeur-driven car, this was offered to me at the time of my employment on the same competitive basis as salary, and also on the assumption that a chief executive's time and energies are more valuable than the cost of such a car and driver. One more point about that car: Like other busy executives I am accustomed to work in it on my way from one place to another and seldom relax there. Finally, if the company's directors and shareholders are dissatisfied with my performance in return for money paid, they have power to remove me . . .

But no! Nim thought glumly: the soft approach, excessive worrying about an elusive public image, pussyfooting, never standing up to the Birdsongs of the world by employing their own tough tactics in reverse -all these were the order of the day. This day and other days to come.

It was the second day of bearings on the license application for Tunipah, first stage. The preceding day had been filled by formalities, including submission by counsel for GSP & L of a mammoth 500-page "Notice of Intention" (350 copies printed), the first of many similar documents to come. As O'Brien put it sardonically: "By the time we're through we'll have caused to be chopped down a forest of trees to make the paper we shall use which, put together, could fill a library or sink a ship."

Earlier today, J. Eric Humphrey was summoned as the applicant's first witness.

O'Brien had led the utility's chairman quickly through a recital of the need for Tunipah and the site's advantages-the promised "brief appearance." then there had been a more lengthy questioning by counsel for the commission, who was followed by Roderick Pritchett, manager-secretary of the Sequoia Club. Both cross-examinations, while occupying more than an hour each, were constructive and low-key. Davey Birdsong, however, who was next and appeared for p & lfp, had already enlivened the proceedings, clearly to the delight of supporters in the audience.