“Excuse me,” Tully interrupted, “but isn’t the game of tennis where all the movers and shakers move and shake and close deals? Isn’t golf too slow and time-consuming?”
“No, tennis has some action, as you suggest. But golf is still supreme.
“But I don’t want to give the impression that business is confined to a few specific locations or opportunities. Lots of business is done at breakfast or lunch … seldom dinner.
“Why, in the morning at Kingsley Inn or even the Denny’s on Telegraph Road there can be half a dozen millionaires discussing investments, loans, mortgages … business.
“And my job boils down to a single word: visibility.”
“Wow!” Tully breathed, with genuine awe. “I can tell you, that’s a busier job description than I could ever come up with. ‘After Mass’ you’re going at warp speed.”
Adams smiled and shook his head. “There’s much more to it than that. Remember, I said we were a small bank ….”
“Yes.”
“Well, Satchel Paige is supposed to have said, ‘Don’t look back; somebody may be gaining on you.’ In the banking game, you’d better look back or somebody is going to eat you. Mergers go on all the time. You know that, Father. Comerica, for one of many examples, used to be two moderately large banking institutions. Now it’s one gigantic corporation.
“It’s called ‘cashing out,’ Father. Some small bankers get rich by selling out. Others run scared. For instance, I’m an officer in the Independent Bankers Association. We fight the big guys off to remain independent. We fight against interstate banking.”
“Well, you must be doing all right. After all, you’re opening a new branch. In fact that’s at least part of what we’re celebrating this evening, isn’t it?”
“The new branch?” Adams’s lips tightened. “Our mayor is ecstatic. While the banking business in general is cutting its presence in Detroit, here we go opening a new branch right in the heart of one of the roughest sections of the city. And we’re getting static from some of our depositors for it. They’re worried that we’re taking their money on a goofy ride. There’s a lot of flak on this-”
“Then … why?”
“Why? I suppose this sounds silly, but because it’s the right thing to do. It’s our chance to show these people that someone cares. Not many think it’s a smart idea.…”
There was another period of silence. The only sound in the room was the low clatter of silverware and dishes as the staff continued its preparations. Finally, the priest spoke. “Mr. Adams, you are either unique, or very, very rare.”
“I know.” The statement was made in honest humility, without the slightest trace of boasting.
“I wonder,” the priest said, “if there’s another businessman who forms company policy on the basis of doing what is right.”
“Oh, I’m sure there are lots. You just don’t hear about them.”
“Maybe. But in your own experience, how many do you know personally?”
“Not many,” Adams admitted. “But I’m sure they’re around. How could you read Scripture and not be influenced by it?”
“There are a lot of people-the majority, I fear-who listen to it most every Sunday and let it go in one ear and out the other. You really live by the Bible, don’t you?”
There was a faint blush to Adams’s cheeks. “Let’s not go overboard. I try to live close to the Christian ideal. And I often fail. But I want this to succeed. I want very much to have this branch set an example.
“And, while I think of it, I should tell you about the others here tonight. I’ve invited my three executive vice presidents and their wives. They all know each other, of course, but for your sake they’ll be wearing identification tags. And there’ll be two others of special interest. One is Al Ulrich, the other is Nancy Groggins.”
“What’s so special about them?”
“It’s pretty well known throughout our banking family that these two are front-runners for managership of the new branch. Each is already a branch manager. Each is extremely capable. Both would do well in this extremely sensitive position. And, most of all, they both want the position … and that’s something else: I doubt that management of this new branch is a high priority with many of my employees.”
“Fear? Of the neighborhood?”
“To a great degree, I think yes. Some see it as a dead end-though that certainly wouldn’t be the case for anyone who does a good job in this spot.
“Anyway,” Adams continued, “I would appreciate your reaction and opinion. Al and Nancy are good people, but quite different from each other. See what you think.”
“You haven’t made up your mind yet? Isn’t the opening just around the corner?”
“Later this week. And everybody figures I’ve already made the selection. But I haven’t. I know it’s not fair to ask your opinion in this major decision based on one exposure and an observance over just a few hours. But I’ll tell you this: I’m leaning toward Nancy. With that in mind, see if you agree or not.”
There was a stir in the vestibule as the other guests began to arrive.
“One last thing,” Adams said. “I suppose you’ve been wondering why you were selected to come to Detroit to give me this award.”
Father Tully had, indeed, wondered. It couldn’t be because his brother was a police officer here; how could Adams know this when the policeman himself hadn’t known it?
“I guess,” Adams explained, “it would be safe to say the Josephites have been my favorite charity for a good long time.”
“I wouldn’t argue with that.”
Adams smiled. “When I got word that I had been selected for this year’s Peter Claver Award, I talked to your superior. We agreed that it would suit both our purposes to link the award with the opening of this very special branch of my bank.
“And I wanted his recommendation for an excellent representative to bestow the award. He nominated you. I checked into your background, your accomplishments, your progress, your present needs. I wholeheartedly backed his choice. And I thank you for taking part in this ceremony.”
As it turns out, thought Father Tully, my selection had nothing to do with my brother. Well, that figures. I’m here because my superior suggested me as a Josephite representative and Tom Adams agreed with the selection.
“Now, Father,” Adams continued, “I’ve been informed that you currently are in the process of building on to your church.”
Tully nodded enthusiastically. “We outgrew the old building. We’re doing all right raising funds. Just slow. Our people don’t have much.”
“I heard all about it from your superior.” Adams reached into his inside jacket pocket and brought out a piece of paper. It was a check, dated, signed, and made out to the Josephite order.
Father Tully took the check, examined it, and looked up at Adams. “This check … it’s blank.”
“I’m aware of that.” Adams could not suppress a pleased grin. “You see, in the corner, I’ve directed that it be used in your building fund.”
“But … but it’s blank! I don’t know what you intend. I don’t know how much you want to contribute.”
“The balance. I want to finish your fund drive.”
“I can tell you what that amount is.”
“I know how much you need to finish the drive. But there may be incidentals that crop up. The blank check gives you a guarantee that you won’t be ‘surprised’ by any unexpected last-minute expenditures.”
Tully shook his head. “Your generosity is almost incredible. I don’t know what to say. Except thanks.”
“Not at all. I just took a page from the story of the Good Samaritan. I know you’re familiar with that.”
“Sure. About the Jew who was mugged and left for dead. People who should have helped him passed on by. But a Samaritan, who should have been his enemy, helped the Jew.”
“But,” Adams interrupted, “it’s the next part of the story that I centered on. The Samaritan takes the Jew to an inn and gives the innkeeper some money to take care of the injured man. And the Samaritan promises that on his way back he’ll stop and reimburse the innkeeper for any additional expense incurred.
“You see? The Samaritan gave the innkeeper a blank check.” Adams smiled at the simplicity of his reaction to
