Strong Medicine (12 page)

things to people. Was it possible that Sam believed some comment would

make him look good in the eyes of the assembled brass?

Looking up at the platform, the vice president of sales asked testily,

"What is it?"

"Well," Sam said, close enough to the microphone so his voice could be

heard again through the now-silent hall, "I guess you could say, Irving,

I'm standing up here to be counted."

"In what way counted?" This time the question was from Eli Camperdown,

now also on his feet.

Sam Hawthorne faced the Felding-Roth president, at the same time moving

closer to the mike. "Counted with Mrs. Jordan, Eli. And admitting-even

though no one else seems willing to-that everything she said is true. As

we all damn well know, even while pretending otherwise."

The silence in the hall was awesome. Only minor noises filtered in-the

sound of traffic, distantly; a rattle of glassware from a kitchen; muted

voices from a corridor outside. It seemed as if everyone was still,

rooted, not wanting to move and thereby miss a word. Amid the quiet, Sam

continued.

"I'd also like to go on record as wishing I'd had the wit and moral

courage to make the speech which Mrs. Jordan did. And there's something

else."

Irving Gregson interrupted. "Don't you think you've said enough?"

"Let him finish," Eli Camperdown ordered. "It might as well all hang

out."

The sales vice president subsided.

"In particular," Sam Hawthorne went on, "I agree with the opinion that

if our industry fails to mend its ways, laws will be passed compelling

us to do so. Moreover, those laws will be more restrictive by far than

if we accept the good advice we have just heard and clean house

ourselves.

"Finally, about Mrs. Jordan. Several times already she has proved her

great value to this company. In my opinion she has just done so again,

and if we let her leave this room in this way, we're all shortsighted

fools."

Celia could scarcely believe what she heard. She had a momen-

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tary sense of shame for doubting Sam's motives. What he had just done, she

realized, was to put his own job, his ambitions, his promising future at

Felding-Roth, all on the line on her behalf

Still the uncanny silence persisted. There was a shared awareness of a

moment of high drama in which no one seemed certain what would happen

next.

It was Eli Camperdown who moved first, returning to his seat beside the

chairman of the board where the two senior officers began a second

urgent, low-voiced conversation. This time Camperdown was doing most of

the talking-it seemed, attempting to persuade while the elderly VanHouten

listened. At first the chairman shook his head adamantly, then appeared

to relent, and finally shrugged. Camperdown beckoned Irving Gregson to

join them.

Since decisions were obviously taking shape at highest level, others

waited, though now a buzz of conversation filled the hall,

It diminished as the vice president of sales left the other two and

ascended the speakers' platform. He took over the microphone from Sam

Hawthorne, who returned to his seat below. Gregson surveyed the sea of

curious faces, paused for effect, then permitted himself a broad grin.

"Whatever else you may say about our sales conferences," he declared, "we

always promise you they are never dull."

It was the fight thing to say and there was a roar of appreciative

laughter in which even the dour VanHouten joined.

"I am instructed by our chairman and president," Gregson said, ,.an

instruction in which I personally join, to state that a few moments ago

we may all have acted hastily, even unwisely." Again the grin, a pause,

and the sales chief continued.

"Many years ago, when I was a small boy and sometimes got into trouble-as

all boys do-my mother taught me something. 'Irving,' she said, 'when

you've made an ass of yourself and an apology is called for, stand up

straight, be a man, and do it handsomely.' My dear mother, rest her soul,

is dead; but somehow I can hear her voice saying, 'Irving, my boy, that

time is now."'

Watching and listening, Celia thought: Gregson had style. It was clearly

not by accident he had been promoted to the hierarchy of sales.

She realized he was pointing directly at her. "Mrs. Jordan, come this

way, please. You too, Sam."

When all three of them were on the platform--Celia dazed, almost

unbelieving-Gregson said, "I announced I would apologize,

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Mrs. Jordan, and I do. We will, after all, consider your suggestions

carefully. And now I'll relieve you of that file of yours if you don't

mind."

Turning to the audience Gregson said, "I believe you have just

witnessed an example of why ours is a great company and will

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T he remainder of his remarks were drowned out by applause and cheering

and, moments later, executives and others were surrounding Celia,

offering congratulations and shaking her hand.

"Why did you risk it?" Sam Hawthorne asked.

"If it comes to that," Celia answered, "why did you?"

It was a week later. Celia and Andrew were spending an evening at the

Hawthornes' home and during dinner-a superb meal attesting Lilian

Hawthorne's culinary skill-they had avoided the subject of the sales

convention and talked of other things. A few days earlier the Russians

had announced the shooting down of an American U-2 plane and the capture

of its pilot, Gary Powers. Moscow charged that both were spying. The

United States at first denied the charge but soon afterward President

Eisenhower admitted, redfaced, that it was true. Most Americans, the

Hawthornes and Jordans agreed, felt embarrassed too.

In Britain the Queen's sister, Princess Margaret, had set tongues wagging

and raised eyebrows by marrying a professional photographer, Antony

Armstrong-Jones. The wedding took place in what the press described as

a "carnival mood." People were asking: Would the marriage diminish the

prestige of the British throne? Andrew emphatically said no.

After dinner they listened to a new recording by Elvis Presley-a pop

ballad, "Fame and Fortune." Presley had resumed his career after a year

in the U.S. Army, his absence having left his popularity undimmed. The

women liked "Fame and Fortune." The men didn't.

Finally, over brandies in the Hawthomes' spacious, artistically decorated

living room, it was Sam who introduced the subject, closer to home, that

was on all their minds.

Answering Celia's question, he said, "When I followed you onto that

platform, maybe I just couldn't resist being part of a dramatic scene."

She objected, "You know it was more than that."

"We all do," Andrew put in. He was leaning back in a comfort-

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able armchair and savoring the brandy; he had had a busy day with patients

in a practice that was growing rapidly, and was tired. "You risked

everything, Sam-far more than Celia."

:'Of course, I'm grateful-" Celia began, but Sam cut her off.

'You don't need to be. If you want the truth, I felt I was being tested."

He addressed Andrew. "Your wife had already demonstrated she had more guts,

along with greater respect for truth, than anyone else Mere. I didn't want

to fall below her standards." Sam smiled at Celia. "Especially if you're

trying to follow me up the ladder at Felding-Roth."

'You know about that?"

'I told him," Lilian Hawthorne said. "I'm sorry if I broke your confidence,

Celia, but Sam and I don't keep secrets from each other. "

"I have a secret," Sam said; "it's about Celia." As the others looked at

him curiously, he went on, "She isn't going to be a detail woman anymore."

Andrew chuckled. "You're firing her after all?"

"No. Promoting her. Our company is going to have a Department of Sales

Training, just as Celia suggested. She'll help set it up -and will be

assistant director."

"Well, hurrah!" Lilian raised her glass. "The men have shown some sense.

I'll drink to that."

"If all things were fair," Sam said, "Celia would have been director. But

there are some in the company who can't swallow quite that much. Not yet.

By the way, it'll be announced tomorrow."

Andrew got up and crossed the room to kiss Celia. "I'm happy for you,

darling. You deserve it."

"Well," Celia told them all, "I'm not exactly upset. Thank you, Sam, and

I'll settle for 'assistant.' " She added with a smile, "For the time

being."

They were interrupted by two small, pajama-clad figures who ran, laughing,

into the living room. In the lead was Lisa, now twenty months old, lively

and inquisitive, whom Andrew and Celia had brought with them and who-so

they thought-had been put to bed for the night. Behind her was Juliet, the

Hawthornes' fouryear-old and only child. Lilian had confided to Celia some

time ago that doctors advised her she would never have more children, and

she and Sam lavished love on Juliet, who was bright, intelligent and

apparently unspoiled. The two little girls had clearly been excited by each

other's company.

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Lisa hurled herself into her father's arms. She told Andrew, giggling,

"Julie chase me."

Lilian got up. "I'll chase you both. Right back to bed." Amid laughter

and shrieks the three disappeared in the direction of Juliet's bedroom.

When Lilian returned, Celia said, "All of that reminds me of something.

I may need a little time off from that new job after a while, Sam. I seem

to be pregnant again."

"This is a night for revelations," Lilian said. "Fortunately there's some

booze left, so we can drink to that too." There was, Celia thought, a

trace of envy in the other woman's voice,

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Through the remainder of 1960, and into 1961, Celia immersed herself in

teaching the Felding-Rotb sales force how to sell.

Her new chief, the director of sales training, was a former division

manager from Kansas City named Teddy Upshaw. When introduced, Celia

recognized him at once. His had been one of the sympathetic faces when

she was about to be ejected from the sales convention at the Waldorf.

Upshaw, a fast-talking, short-statured, dynamic whippet of a man in his

late forties, bad been selling drugs all his working life. He radiated

energy, always hurried from one place to the next, and had a small round

head which he nodded frequently during conversations; it gave the

impression of a bouncing ball. Before being promoted to management,

Upshaw had been the company's top sales producer and confided to Celia

that he still missed the life of a traveling salesman, which he described

as "like easy breathing," and added, "in this business you don't have to

sell dirty to be good because most does know damned little about drugs,

and if you're straight with 'em, and they learn to trust you, you can

have all the business you want. Only other thing to remember is to treat

the does like gods. They expect that."

When Celia told Andrew in bed one night about the "gods"