affluent society, a fad could sweep the country overnight. The proof was in the fact that this one evidently had. That explained Mary Malone’s appearance in the elevator, too. Trust Mary Malone to be in there at the beginning.
However, he again had that premonition. He couldn’t quite put his finger on something he ought to remember. He shrugged and continued on toward the coke dispenser.
As he stood there, drinking from his plastic cup, he contemplated the machine. Just how far would the efficiency engineers finally go? The beverage was free. The time and motion people had figured out that it was cheaper to contribute free cold drinks than to have the office help waste the time they did in trotting around getting change, or borrowing a dime each time they wanted refreshing.
Mulligan waddled from his office and cast his eyes around the room, spotted Ed and started toward him.
The luck of the Irish. Why couldn’t he have been seated at his desk in a rash of hard work when Fatso issued onto the scene?
However, the studio head evidently wasn’t in his usual critical mood. He rumbled, almost pleasantly, “All
Ed looked at him blankly.
“The chapter meeting,” Mulligan blatted. “Your report on this subversive religious kook.”
Ed said brightly. “Oh sure, Mr. Mulligan. All set to go.” Actually, he hadn’t given a thought to this. He should have spent some time on it. Old man Fontaine would be there and probably half the local business bigwigs. It was a chance to make an impression. To make contacts.
The meeting of the local chapter of the Stephen Decatur Society took place in one of the conference rooms of Coy Parfums, Incorporated. Ed Wonder hadn’t known that Wannamaker Doolittle, president of Coy, was a member of the society. Here was a contact, right off the bat. Coy perfumes were one of the big sponsors in Kingsburg.
His luck again. There wasn’t going to be a spell, before the meeting got under way, during which he could meet the big shots present. The meeting was already underway. In fact, he and Mulligan attracted the scowls of several present, including Jensen Fontaine, who was prominently seated at the far end of the table around which some thirty chapter members were gathered.
They slunk into two unoccupied seats, not adjoining each other.
It was Wannamaker Doolittle himself who held the floor. He was waving a newspaper and viewing something with alarm, as best Ed could make out.
“Listen to this,” the Coy head demanded. “Listen to this undermining of American institutions.” He read, accusation in his high voice:
“Planned obsolescence through style fluctuation can present one of the most unbelievable elements of our unbelievable economy. As good an example as any are the twice a year changes in Detroit’s autohovers. Last year, General Ford autohovers managed to get about in the night with but four lights, two forward, two behind. This year they carry fourteen outside lights, fore, aft and to the sides. Evidently, the autohover stylists couldn’t get together on just what all these banks of lights were for. On some, a few of the taillights were dummies, not hooked up to the wiring system. A similar example is to be found in the latest kitchen stoves. In the attempt to put over to the housewife consumer that her present stove is antiquated, latest models are so gimmicked up with control panels that they look like the conning tower of an atomic submarine. They carry as many as thirty-five buttons and dials. On dismantling one of these the Consumer’s Alliance found that many of the dials had no connections beneath the cover. They were dummies.”
Wannamaker Doolittle looked up in accusation. He banged the newspaper he held in his left hand with the back of his right. “Commie subversion,” he bleated. “Insidious underground attempt to undermine our institutions.”
“Hear, hear,” someone applauded, thumping on the table. There were general murmurs of indignation.
“Who is this Buzz De Kemp?” Doolittle demanded. “Do our newspapers hire any subversive who comes along claiming to be an honest journalist? Is there no screening? No check on his security rating?” He slapped the paper again. “What editor passes such open attacks upon two of the most important elements in our economy, autohovers and kitchen appliances? Last week the president exhorted the people to buy, buy, buy, in order to continue our prosperity. How can we expect full consumption of our products if women slave away over antiquated stoves, and if families drive rattling, unstylish autohovers, fully a year old?”
Ed Wonder’s ears had pricked up at the mention of Buzz De Kemp’s name. Buzzo must be slipping his gears to write things like that. Did he want to get a reputation as a kook?
Jensen Fountaine, evidently the chairman, banged the table with his gavel “A motion is in order to recommend to the publisher of the
“Buzz De Kemp,” Ed said, without thinking.
Eyes went to Ed Wonder, whose tie suddenly became overly tight.
“You know this obvious Communist?” Jensen Fontaine rapped.
“Well, yes sir. I’ve run into him several times. He’s not a Commie. According to him he just sort of makes a hobby of offbeat politico-economic theories. You know…” His sentence dribbled away as he saw his words weren’t exactly making a big hit.
Someone said darkly, “You can’t play with tar without getting your hands dirty.”
Fontaine banged the table again. “Do I hear a motion?”
Mulligan got out quickly, “Make a motion that a committee composed of members who advertise in the
Somebody said, “Second.”
There was a long-winded report then by some sort of library committee. Evidently they were having trouble with the children’s section in the town’s library. Something about refusing to ban
Ed Wonder looked suddenly alert. Jensen Fontaine had just used his name.
Helen’s father was saying, “During my absence I understand we had several letters concerning the subversive elements in the so-called sermons of a certain…” he looked down at the paper before him and snorted disbelief “…Ezekiel Joshua Tubber. Member Helen Fontaine, my daughter, and a staff member of WAN-TV attended a Tubber revival and as a result Helen was confined for a time to her bed. Mr. Edward Wonder will now report fully.”
Ed stood up. Already he wasn’t liking this and had an unhappy suspicion that he wasn’t going to win kudos.
Ed said, “The fact is, I’m no authority on underground subversion. I know it’s important work. Keeping the country from being overthrown by the Commies and all. But, well, I’ve got my nose to the grindstone at WAN-TV. Possibly some of you folks have tuned in to the Far Out Hour on Friday nights…”
Mulligan said ominously, “The report on Tubber, Little Ed, the report on Tubber. No commercials.”
Ed cleared his throat. “Yes, sir. Well, frankly, from what I heard, Tubber is anti-Communist, rather than a Commie. At least that’s what he says. He complained about people being too materialistic, concentrating on the things they own or consume, instead of spiritual things… I suppose.”
Somebody said, “My minister gives the same sermon every Sunday. On Monday we forget it.”
Somebody else said, “Oh, he does, does he? This is something I’ve been wanting to bring up. What’s wrong with our consumer society? What would happen to our economy if we listened to these supposed religious leaders?”
Fontaine banged his gavel. “Go on,” he said to Ed Wonder.
He didn’t sound too happy about the way the report was coming, so far. Which, in turn, didn’t make Ed any too happy either.
“Well, all I can say is that he didn’t sound like a Commie. In fact, Helen, Miss Fontaine, asked him a direct question about it and he made it clear that he wasn’t.”
The woman who had reported on the library said, mystified, “But what’s all this got to do with Helen being under a doctor’s care? What did he
