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about, if made at all, should come from the chairman."

"For the record," Eric Humphrey put in mildly, "I was asked to appear on

The Good Evening Show and I deputed Nim. He seems to do that kind of

thing quite well."

"He'd do a whole lot better," the p.r. vice president said, "if we gave

him carte blanche to issue some plain, ugly warnings instead of insisting

on the 'moderate line' we always do."

"I'm still in favor of a moderate line." This time the speaker was Fraser

Fenton, who held the title of president, though his main responsibility

was for the utility's gas operations. Fenton, thin, balding and ascetic,

was another veteran.

"Not all of us," he continued, "accept your gloomy view, Tess, of what's

ahead. I've been tbirty-four years with this utility and I've seen

problems come and go. I believe we'll get around the capacity shortage

somehow . . ."

Nim Goldman interjected, "How?"

35

"Let me finish," Fenton said. "Another point I want to make is about

opposition. It's true that right now we encounter organized opposition to

everything we try to do, whether it's build more plants, increase rates, ~r

Cive stockholders a decent dividend. But I believe most, if not all of

that-the opposition and consurnerism-will pass. It's a fashion and a fad.

Those involved will eventually become tired, and when that happens we'll go

back to the way things used to be, when this utilitv and others did pretty

much what they wanted. That's why I say we should continue talking a

moderate line, and not stir up trouble and antagonism by alarming people

needlessly."

"I agree with A that," Stewart Ino said.

Ray Paulsen added, "Me, too."

Nini's eyes met Teresa Van Buren's and he knew their thoughts were the

same. Within the public utilities business, Fraser Fenton, Ino, Paulsen,

and others like them represented a cadre of entrenched executives who bad

grown up in their jobs during easier times and refused to acknowledge that

these were gone forever. Mostly, such people attained their present

eminence through seniority, never having been subject to the tough,

S01r1CtiMCS cutthroat cornp~tition for advancement which was a norm in

other industries. Tlie personal security of the Fraser Fentons et al had

become wrapped around them like a cocoon. 'Hic status quo was their holy

grall. Predictably, thev ob'ected to anything the~l saw as rocking the

boat.

There were reasons for this-often debated bv Nim and other younger

executives. One was the nature of a public"utility-monopolistic, not

subject to day-by-day competition in the marketplace; this was why

utilities like Gc~ldcn State Power & Light sometimes resembled government

bureaucracies. Secondly, utilities, through most of their historv, had been

in a strong seller's market, able to sell as much of their product as they

could produce, the process helped along by abundant sources of cheap power.

Only in recent years, as power sources became scarcer and more costly, bad

utility executives needed to face serious commercial problcms and make

hard, unpopular decisions. Nor, in older days, Nvere the), locked in combat

with tough-minded, skillful1v led opposition groups, including consumers

and environmentalists.

It was these profound changes, the Nim Goldman types argued, which a

majority of top level executives had failed to accept, or deal with real-

istically. (Walter Talbot, Nim remembered sadIv, had been a notable

exception.) The oldsters, for their part, regarded Nim and his kind as

impatient, troublemaking upstarts and usually, since the older group

comprised a majority, their point of view prevailed.

"I'll admit to being ambivalent," J. Eric Humphrey told the group, "on this

question of should we, or shouldn't we, bore in harder with our public

statements. My personal nature is against it, but at times I see

36

the other side." The chairman, smiling slightly, glanced at Nim. "You were

bristling just now. Anything to add?"

Nim hesitated. Then he said, "Only this. When the serious blackouts

begin-I mean the long-lasting and repeated blackouts a few years from

now-we, the utilities, will be blamed, no matter what has, or hasn't,

happened in the meantime. The press will crucify us. So will the politi-

cians, doing their usual Pontius Pilate act. After that the public will

blame us too, and say: Why didn't you warn us while there was still time?

I agree with Teresa-that time is now."

"We'll vote on it," Eric Humphrey announced. "A show of hands, please,

for the harder approach we've just beard advocated."

Three hands went up-Teresa Van Buren's, Nim's, and that of Oscar O'Brien,

the general counsel.

"Against," the chairman called.

This time the raised hands numbered eight.

Eric Humphrey nodded. "I'll go with the majority, which means we continue

what someone called our 'moderate line."'

"And make goddam sure," Ray Paulsen cautioned Nim, "you keep it moderate

on those TV talk shows."

Nim glared at Paulsen, but contained his anger, saying nothing.

As the meeting broke up, the participants divided into smaller seg-

ments-twos and threes-discussing their separate, special interests.

"We all need a few defeats," Eric Humphrey told Nim cheerfully on the way

out. "A certain humbling from time to time is good."

Nim avoided comment. Before today's meeting be bad wondered if the old

guard's laissez-faire viewpoint about public relations could be sustained

after the events of last week. Now be had the answer. Nim wished, too,

that the chairman had supported him. He knew that if the subject had been

one on which Humphrey held strong views they would have prevailed,

regardless of any vote.

"Come in," the chairman said as they neared their adjoining offices down

the hallwav from the conference room. "There's something I want you to

handle."

The chairman's office suite, while more spacious than others on the

senior management floor, still conformed to a GSP&L policy of being

relatively spartan. This was to impress on visitors that shareholders'

and customers' money was spent on essentials, not frills. Nim, following

custom, went to a lounge area containing several comfortable chairs. Eric

Humphrey, after crossing to his desk to pick up a file, joined him.

Though it was bright daylight outside and windows of the suite commanded

a view across the city, all draperies were drawn, with artificial

lighting on. The chairman always evaded questions about why he

37

worked this way, though one theory held that, even after thirtN, years, he

missed the view of his native Boston and would accept no substitutes.

"I presume you've seen the latest report in here." Humphrey indicated the

file which was labeled:

PROPERTY PROTECTION DEPARTMENT

Subject: Theft of Power

"Yes, I have."

"Obviously the situation's getting worse. I know in some ways it's a

pinprick, but it makes me damned angry."

"A twelve-million-dollar loss per year is a whopping pinprick," Nim

observed.

The report they were speaking of, by a department bead named Harry London,

described ways in which stealing of electric power and gas had become

epidemic. The method of theft was through tampering with meters-usually by

individuals, though there were indications that some professional service

firms were involved.

Eric Humphrey mused, "The twelve million figure is an estimate. It could be

less, or perhaps a whole lot more."

"The estimate is conservative," Nim assured him. "Walter Talbot believed

that too. If you recall, the chief pointed out there was a two percent gap

last year between electric power we produced and the amount we were able to

account for-billings to customers, company use, line losses, et cetera."

It was the late chief engineer who had first sounded the alarm within GSP

& L about theft of service. He, also, prepared a report-an early and

thorough one which urged creation of a Property Protection Department. The

advice was acted on. It was one more area, Nim thought, in which the

chief's contribution would be missed.

"Yes, I do recall," Humphrey said. "That's an enormous amount of

unaccounted-for electricity."

"And the percentage is four times higher than two years ago."

The chairman drummed fingers on his chair arm. "Apparently the same is true

with gas. And we can't just sit back and let it happen."

"We've been lucky for a long time," Nim pointed out. "Power theft has been

a worry in the East and Midwest far longer than it has been here. In New

York last year Con Edison lost seventeen million dollars that way.

Chicago-Commonwealth Edison-which sells less electricity than we do and no

gas, set their loss at five to six million. It's the same in New Orleans,

Florida, New Jersey . . ."

Humphrey interrupted impatiently, "I know all that." He considered, then

pronounced, "All right, we'll intensify our own measures, if neces-

38

sary increasing our budget for investigation. Regard this as your own

over-all assignment, representing me. Tell Harry London ihat. And

emphasize I'm taking a personal interest in his department, and I ex-

pect to see results."

7

"Some people around here have the misguided notion that stealing power is

something new," Harry London declared. "Well, it isn't. Would you be

surprised if I told you there was a recorded case in California over a

century ago?" He spoke in the manner of a schoolmaster addressing a class,

even though he bad an audience of one-Nim Goldman.

"Most things don't surprise me; that does," Nim said.

London nodded. "Then get a load of this one."

He was a short, craggy man with crisp speech which bordered on the

pedantic when he set out to explain any subject, as he was doing now. A

former master sergeant of Marines, with a Silver Star for gallantry in

action, he bad later been a Los Angeles police detective, then joined

Golden State Power & Light five years ago as assistant chief of security.

For the past six months Harry London had headed a new department

-Property Protection-specifically set up to deal with thefts of power,

and during that time he and Nim bad become good friends. The two men were

in the department's makeshift quarters now-in London's office, one of a

series of cramped glass cubicles.

"It happened in 1867 in Vallejo," London said. "The San Francisco Gas

Company set up a plant there and the man in charge was an M. P. Young.

One of Vallejo's hotels was owned by a guy named John Lee. Well, this Lee

was caught cheating on his gas bills. What he'd done was put a bypass

around his meter."

"I'll be damned! That long ago?"

"Wait! That isn't the half of it. The gas company man, Young, tried to

collect money from John Lee to pay for the gas which had been stolen.

That made Lee so mad he shot Young and was later charged with assault and

attempted murder."

Nim said skeptically, "Is all that true?"