Arthur Hailey - Overload

The remainder of the words were drowned in cheers, applause and foot-stomping from the spectators. amid it all, the commissioner banged his gavel, calling, "Order! Order!"

A man who had joined in the cheering and was seated next to Nim 1observed Nim's silence. He inquired belligerently, "Don't you care, buster?"

"Yes," Nim said. "I care."

Nim realized that if this were a regular court proceeding the chances were that Birdsong would long since have been cited for contempt. But he wouldn't be, now or later, because the courtroom setting was a facade.

Hearings of this kind were allowed, deliberately, to operate loosely with occasional disorders tolerated. Oscar O'Brien had explained the reasons at one of his advance briefings.

"Public commissions nowadays are seared shitless that if they don't allow all and sundry to have an unrestricted chance to say their piece, later there could be challenges in the courts on grounds that significant evidence was quashed. If that happened it might mean an overturned decision, undoing years of work because some nut was ordered to shut up or a minor argument disallowed. No one wants that-including us. So, by general consent, the demagogues and kooks et al are given their head along with all the time they want. It makes for dragged out bearings but in the end is probably shorter."

That, Nim knew, was why the experienced administrative law judge had shaken his head a few moments ago, advising the young commissioner not to disallow Birdsong's disputed question.

Something else O'Brien had explained was that lawyers like himself, who were intervened on behalf of applicants, raised fewer objections at this type of hearing than they would in court. "We save them for something that's outrageously wrong and ought to be corrected in the record." Nim suspected that O'Brien's objections during J. Eric Humphrey's cross-examination by Birdsong were mostly to mollify Humphrey, O'Brien's boss, who had been reluctant to make this appearance anyway.

Nim was sure that when his own turn came to testify and be cross-examined, O'Brien would leave him pretty much to fend for himself.

"Let's get back," Davey Birdsong was continuing, "to those huge profits we were talking about. Now take the effect on consumers' monthly bills. . ."

For another half hour the p & lfp leader continued his interrogation. He employed leading, loaded questions unsubstantiated by facts, interrupted by clowning, but hammering home his contention that profits from Tunipah would be excessive and were the major motivation. Nim conceded mentally: While the charge was false, the Goebbels-type repetition was effective.

Undoubtedly it would receive prominence in the media, and probably credence, which clearly was among Birdsong's objectives.

"Thank you, Mr. Humphrey," the commissioner said when the GSP & L chairman stepped down from the witness stand. Eric Humphrey nodded an acknowledgment, then departed with evident relief.

Two other GSP & L witnesses followed. Both were specialist engineers.

Their testimony and cross-examination were uneventful but occupied two full days, after which the hearing was adjourned until Monday of the following week. Nim, who would have the burden of presenting the main thrust of GSP & L's case, would be next on the witness stand when proceedings resumed.

Three weeks ago, when Ruth Goldman startled Nim by announcing her intention to leave home for a while, he considered it likely she would change her mind. However, Ruth hadn't. Now, on Friday evening, during the weekend recess of the Tunipah hearings, Nim found himself alone in their house, Leah and Benjy having been taken by Ruth to their grandparents across town before her departure. The arrangement was that both children would remain with the Neubergers until Ruth's return, whenever that might be.

Ruth had been vague about that, just as she had declined to say where she was going, or with whom. "Probably it will be two weeks, though it may be less or more," she had told Nim several days ago.

But there was nothing vague about her attitude toward him; it had been cool and definite. It was, he thought, as if she had reached decisions within herself and all that remained was to implement them. What the decisions were, and how he would be affected, Nim had no idea. At first be told himself he should care, but was saddened to find he didn't. At least, not much. That was why he had raised no protest when Ruth told him her plans were complete and she would be leaving at the end of the week.

It was uncharacteristic, Nim realized, for him merely to "go along" and let things drift. By nature he was accustomed to make decisions promptly and to plan ahead: that ability, applied to his work, had earned him recognition and advancement. But where his marriage was concerned he still had a curious reluctance to move, perhaps to face reality. He was leaving it all to Ruth. If she chose to leave permanently and afterward seek a divorce, which seemed the natural sequence, he would be disinclined to fight or even try to dissuade her. However, he would not take the step himself. Not yet.

He had asked Ruth only yesterday if she was ready to discuss their situation, remembering her words: ". . . you and I have only been going through the motions of being married. We haven't talked about it. But I think we should. . . Perhaps when I come back."

Why wait? Nim reasoned.

But she had answered in a businesslike tone, "No, I'll tell you when I'm ready." And that had been the end of it.

Leah and Benjy entered frequently into Nim's thoughts along with the possibility of divorce. Both children, he knew, would be devastated by the idea, and he was saddened at the thought of them being hurt. But the fact was, children survived divorces and Nim had observed many who accepted a divorce in the family as a simple facet of life. Nor would there be difficulty about Nim and Leah and Benjy spending time together. He might even end up seeing more of both children than he did now. It had happened to other estranged fathers.

But all that must await Ruth's return, he reflected, as he roamed the empty house on Friday evening.

A half hour ago he had telephoned Leah and Benjy, plowing through the objections of Aaron Neuberger, who didn't like his telephone to be used, except for emergencies, on the Sabbath. Nim had let the phone ring and ring until his father-in-law gave in and answered. "I want to talk to my kids," Nim insisted bluntly, "and I don't care if it's Mickey Mouse Tuesday."

When Leah came on the line a few minutes later she reproached him gently.

"Daddy, you've upset Grandfather."

Nim had felt like saying Good! but wisely didn't, and they talked about school, a forthcoming swim meet and ballet class. No mention of Ruth. He sensed that Leah knew something was wrong but was uneasy about asking or knowing.

His conversation with Benjy, which followed, revived the irritation Nim frequently felt about his in-laws.

"Dad," Benjy had said, "am I going to have a bar mitzvah? Grandfather said I have to. And Grandmother says if I don't I'll never be a real Jewish man."

Confound those interfering Neubergers! Couldn't they just be loving grandparents, taking care of Leah and Benjy for a couple of weeks, without grabbing the chance to inject propaganda into the children? It was almost indecent to start working on them with such baste, as well as intruding on the rights of Nim and Ruth as parents. Nim had wanted to bring up that subject himself with Benjy, talking it over quietly, intelligently, man-to-man, not have it sprung on him suddenly like this.

Well, an inner voice inquired, why didn't you do it? there's been plenty of time. If you had, you wouldn't be wondering right now how to respond to Benjy's question.

Nim said sharply, "No one has to have a bar mitzvah. I didn't. And what your grandmother said is nonsense."