Meeting of the Board | Page 6

the machines again. They may have you in jail if you
do start them, too, but that's another bridge. Right now they want those
machines going again."
"We'll see," said Walter. "What time tomorrow?"
"Ten o'clock." Bates looked up. "And don't try to skip. You be there,
because I don't know what to tell them."
Walter was there a half hour early. Torkleson's legal staff glowered
from across the room. The judge glowered from the bench. Walter
closed his eyes with a little smile as the charges were read: "--breach of
contract, malicious mischief, sabotage of the company's machines,
conspiring to destroy the livelihood of ten thousand workers. Your
Honor, we are preparing briefs to prove further that these men have
formed a conspiracy to undermine the economy of the entire nation.
We appeal to the spirit of orderly justice--"
Walter yawned as the words went on.
"Of course, if the defendant will waive his appeals against the previous

injunctions, and will release the machines that were sabotaged, we will
be happy to formally withdraw these charges."
There was a rustle of sound through the courtroom. His Honor turned
to Jeff Bates. "Are you counsel for the defendant?"
"Yes, sir." Bates mopped his bald scalp. "The defendant pleads guilty
to all counts."
The union lawyer dropped his glasses on the table with a crash. The
judge stared. "Mr. Bates, if you plead guilty, you leave me no
alternative--"
"--but to send me to jail," said Walter Towne. "Go ahead. Send me to
jail. In fact, I insist upon going to jail."
The union lawyer's jaw sagged. There was a hurried conference. A
recess was pleaded. Telephones buzzed. Then: "Your Honor, the
plaintiff desires to withdraw all charges at this time."
"Objection," Bates exclaimed. "We've already pleaded."
"--feel sure that a settlement can be effected out of court--"
The case was thrown out on its ear.
And still the machines sputtered.
* * * * *
Back at the plant rumor had it that the machines were permanently
gutted, and that the plant could never go back into production.
Conflicting scuttlebutt suggested that persons high in uniondom had
perpetrated the crisis deliberately, bullying Management into the strike
for the sole purpose of cutting current dividends and selling stock to
themselves cheaply. The rumors grew easier and easier to believe. The
workers came to the plants in business suits, it was true, and lounged in
the finest of lounges, and read the Wall Street Journal, and felt like
stockholders. But to face facts, their salaries were not the highest.

Deduct union dues, pension fees, medical insurance fees, and sundry
other little items which had formerly been paid by well-to-do
managements, and very little was left but the semi-annual dividend
checks. And now the dividends were tottering.
Production lines slowed. There were daily brawls on the plant floor, in
the lounge and locker rooms. Workers began joking about the trash
cans; then the humor grew more and more remote. Finally, late in the
afternoon of the eighth day, Bailey was once again in Torkleson's
office.
"Well? Speak up! What's the beef this time?"
"Sir--the men--I mean, there's been some nasty talk. They're tired of
making trash cans. No challenge in it. Anyway, the stock room is full,
and the freight yard is full, and the last run of orders we sent out came
back because nobody wants any more trash cans." Bailey shook his
head. "The men won't swallow it any more. There's--well, there's been
talk about having a board meeting."
Torkleson's ruddy cheeks paled. "Board meeting, huh?" He licked his
heavy lips. "Now look, Bailey, we've always worked well together. I
consider you a good friend of mine. You've got to get things under
control. Tell the men we're making progress. Tell them Management is
beginning to weaken from its original stand. Tell them we expect to
have the strike broken in another few hours. Tell them anything."
He waited until Bailey was gone. Then, with a trembling hand he lifted
the visiphone receiver. "Get me Walter Towne," he said.
* * * * *
"I'm not an unreasonable man," Torkleson was saying miserably,
waving his fat paws in the air as he paced back and forth in front of the
spokesmen for the striking managers. "Perhaps we were a little
demanding, I concede it! Overenthusiastic with our ownership, and all
that. But I'm sure we can come to some agreement. A hike in wage
scale is certainly within reason. Perhaps we can even arrange for better

company houses."
Walter Towne stifled a yawn. "Perhaps you didn't understand us. The
men are agitating for a meeting of the board of directors. We want to be
at that meeting. That's the only thing we're interested in right now."
"But there wasn't anything about a board meeting