Arthur Hailey - Overload

Even with winter close at hand, and several weeks after harvest time, the valley was extraordinarily beautiful. It was a clear, crisp, sunny day, following several days of rain. Already early shoots of bright yellow mustard weed were growing between the rows of grapevines-now stark and leafless, and soon to be pruned in readiness for next season. Within the next few weeks the mustard would grow in profusion, then be plowed under to fertilize and, some said, add a special pungency to the flavor of grapes and wine.

"Notice the spacing of the vines," Humphrey said; be had put aside his work as they entered the central portion of the valley where vineyards stretched far into the distance to the lush green hills on either side. “The spacing's much wider than it used to be. That's for mechanical harvesting-the grape growers' way of beating the unions. The union leaders cheated their own members out of jobs by empire building and intransigence, so labor will soon be minimal here, with most jobs done by machine, and more efficiently."

They passed through the township of Yountville. A few miles further, between Oakville and Rutherford, they turned through an entranceway, framed by adobe-colored curving walls, into the mission-style Robert Mondavi Winery, where the luncheon would be held.

The guest of honor and his wife had arrived early, and were in the winery's elegant Vineyard Room, ready to greet others as they came. Humphrey, who had met the Yales several times before, introduced Nim.

Paul Sherman Yale was small, spry and upright, with thinning white hair, intense gray eyes which seemed to bore into whatever they were looking at, and a general liveliness which belied his eighty years. To Nim's surprise he said, "I've been looking forward to meeting you, young man. Before you go back to the city we'll find a corner somewhere and have a talk."

Beth Yale, a warm, gracious woman who had married her husband more than fifty years ago when he was a young Assemblyman, and she his secretary, told Nim, "I think you'll enjoy working with Paul. Most people do."

As soon as he could, Nim eased Humphrey aside. Low-voiced, he asked, "Eric, what's happening? What's all this about?"

"I made a promise," Humphrey said. "If I told you, I'd be breaking it. Just wait."

As the arriving guests multiplied and the line of those waiting to shake hands with the Yales lengthened, the sense of occasion grew. It seemed as if the entire Napa Valley had turned out to pay its homage. Nim recognized faces attached to some of the great names of California wine making: Louis Martini, Joe Heitz, Jack Davies of Schramsberg, today's host Robert Mondavi, Peter Mondavi of Krug, Andre Tchelistcheff, Brother Timothy of Christian Brothers, Donn Chappellet, others. The Governor, who was out of the state, had sent the Lieutenant Governor as his representative. The media had arrived in force, including TV camera crews.

The occasion, which had been billed as private and informal, would be viewed or read about by most Californians tonight and tomorrow.

Lunch-with Napa Valley wines, of course-was followed by introductory speeches, mercifully brief. A toast to Paul and Beth Yale was drunk; a spontaneous standing ovation followed. The guest of honor rose, smiling, to respond. He spoke for a half hour-warmly, simply, eloquently-a casual, easy talk with friends. There was nothing earth shattering, no strident revelations, simply the words of the local boy at last come home. "I am not entirely ready to die," he said. "Who is? But when I leave for eternity, I want to board the bus from here."

The kicker came at the end.

"Until that bus arrives, I intend to be active and, I hope, useful. There is a job I have been told that I can do and which may be of service to California. After due thought, and consultation with my wife, who was uneasy about having me at home all day anyway . . . [Laughter] . . . I have agreed to join the staff of Golden State Power & Light. Not as a meter reader; unfortunately my eyesight is failing . . . [More laughter] . . .but as a member of the board and a public spokesman for the company. In deference to my hoary old age I am being allowed to set my own office hours, so I shall probably arrive -on the days I choose to show up at all-in time for an expense account lunch . . . [Loud laughter] . . . My new boss, Mr. Eric Humphrey, is here today, probably to collect my Social Security number and employment record . . . [Laughter and cheers].

There was more of the same.

Afterward, Humphrey would inform Nim: “The old boy insisted on secrecy while he and I were negotiating, and then he wanted to make the announcement himself in his own way. It's why I couldn't tell you in advance, even though you are the one who will work with him in helping him get oriented."

Meanwhile, as Mr. Justice Yale (he would retain the title for the remainder of his life) concluded his speech and sat down to sustained applause, reporters crowded around Eric Humphrey. "We have yet to work out full details," Humphrey told them, "but essentially Mr. Yale's role will be as be described it-a spokesman for our company, both to the public and before commissioners and legislators."

Humphrey looked pleased as he answered reporters' questions-as well he might, Nim thought. Lassoing Paul Sherman Yale, bringing him into the GSP & L orbit, was a tremendous coup. Not only did Yale have built-in public credence, but every official door in California, from the Governor's downward, was open to him. Clearly, what he would be was a lobbyist of highest caliber, though Nim was certain the word "lobbyist" would never be spoken in his presence.

Already, the TV crews were maneuvering GSP & L's new spokesman into position for a statement. It would be one of many, Nim supposed -some of them the kind of statements Nim himself might have continued making if he hadn't blown it. Watching it happen, be felt a pang of envy and regret.

"Apart from anything else," Beth Yale told Nim with a frankness he would later find characteristic, "we can use the money. No one gets rich being on the Supreme Court, and living in Washington is so expensive we rarely managed to save anything. Paul's grandfather did set up a family trust fund, but it's been horribly mismanaged would you mind putting on another log?"

They were seated before a fieldstone fireplace in a small, comfortable house located in a vineyard, a mile or so from where they had had lunch.

The house had been loaned to the Yales by its owner, who used it during summers, until they were able to locate a place of their own.

Nim added a log to the fire and stirred two others, partially burned, to a cheerful blaze.

A half hour ago Mr. Justice Yale had excused himself to have, as he put it, "a battery charge catnap." He explained, "It's a trick I learned many years ago when I found my attention wandering. Some of my colleagues even do it on the bench."

Before that they had talked for more than two hours about the affairs of Golden State Power & Light.

The "talk in a corner" with Nim, which Paul Yale had spoken of before the luncheon, had not happened for the reason that there Was no way he could escape his admirers while he remained at the Mondavi winery. He had therefore suggested that Nim come back to the house. "If I'm going to do something, young man, I like to get moving. Eric tells me you can supply the best over-all view of your company, so let us start viewing."

They had done precisely that. While Nim described the status, policies and problems of GSP & L, Paul Yale injected sharp, pertinent questions.

Nim found it a stimulating mental exercise, in a way like playing chess with a skilled opponent. And Yale's remarkable memory astounded him. The old man seemed to have forgotten nothing of his earlier days in California and his knowledge of GSP & L history at times exceeded Nim's.