make him like it any more.
'Alex,' Tom Straughan volunteered, 'I may as well tell you that at the money committee tomorrow I intend to support the Supranational loan.' 'I'm sorry to hear that.'
But the news was not unexpected. And Alex wondered how much longer it would be before he would stand so alone and isolated that his position in the bank would be untenable. It could happen soon.
After tomorrow's money policy committee meeting, where the proposals concerning Supranational were certain to be approved by a majority, the full board of directors would meet next Wednesday with Supranational on its agenda too. At both meetings, Alex was sure, his would be a lone, dissenting voice.
He surveyed, once more, the ever-busy Money Trading Center, dedicated to wealth and profit, unchanged in principle from the ancient money temples of Babylon and Greece. Not, he thought, that money, commerce, and profit were in themselves unworthy. Alex was dedicated to all three, though not blindly, and with reservations involving moral scruples, the reasonable distribution of wealth, and banking ethics. Yet, when exceptional profit was in prospect, as all history showed, those with such reservations were shouted down or swept aside.
Facing the powerhouse forces of big money and big business exemplified now by Supranational and a majority in FMA what could one individual, alone in opposition, hope to do?
Little, Alex Vandervoort concluded dismally. Maybe nothing.
11
The meeting of the Board of Directors of First Mercantile American Bank, in the third week of April, was memorable on several counts.
Two major items of bank policy were the subject of intense discussion one, the Supranational line of credit, the other a proposed expanding of the bank's savings activity and the opening of many new suburban branches.
Even before proceedings began, the meeting's tone was evident. Heyward, unusually jovial and relaxed, and wearing a smart new light gray suit, was on hand early. He greeted other directors at the boardroom door as they arrived. From the cordial responses it was clear that most members of the board had not only heard of the Supranational agreement through the financial grapevine but were heartily in favor of it.
'Congratulations, Roscoe,' Philip Johannsen, president of MidContinent Rubber, said, 'you've really moved this bank into the big league. More power to you, fellal'
A beaming Heyward acknowledged, 'I appreciate your support, Phil. I'd like you to know I've other targets in mind.' 'You'll hit them, never fear.'
A beetle-browed director from upstate, Floyd LeBerre, board chairman of General Cable and Switchgear Corporation, came in. In the past LeBerre had never been especially cordial to Heyward, but now he shook-the other's hand warmly. 'Delighted to hear you're going on the Supranational board, Roscoe.' The General Cable chairman lowered his voice. 'My switchgear sales division is putting in some bids for SuNatCo business. Sometime soon I'd like to talk about them.'
'Let's make it next week,' Heyward said agreeably. 'You can be sure I'll help all I can.' LeBerre moved on, his expression pleased.
Harold Austin, who had heard the exchange, winked knowingly. 'Our little trip paid off. You're riding high.'
Today, the Honorable Harold looked more than ever the aging playboy: a colorful plaid jacket, brown bell- bottom trousers, his gaily patterned shirt sporting a cerulean blue bow tie. The white flowing hair was newly trimmed and styled.
'Harold,' Heyward said, 'if there's anything at all I can do in return.'
'There will be,' the Honorable Harold assured him, then strolled to his seat at the boardroom table.
Even Leonard L. Kingswood, the energetic chairman of Northam Steel and Alex Vandervoort's most fervent supporter on the board, had a good word as he passed by. 'Hear you corralled Supranational, Roscoe. That's first- class business.' Other directors were equally complimentary.
Among the last arrivals were Jerome Patterton and Alex Vandervoort. The bank president, his white-fringed, bald head gleaming, and looking as usual like a gentleman farmer, went at once to the head of the long, elliptical boardroom table. Alex, carrying a folder of papers, took his regular seat midway on the left-hand side.
Patterton gaveled for attention and speedily disposed of several routine matters. Then he announced, 'The first main item of business is: Loans submitted for board approval.'
Around the table a flurry of turning pages signaled the opening of FMA's traditional blue, confidential loan folders, prepared for directors' use. 'As usual, gentlemen, you have in front of you details of management's proposals. What's of special interest today, as most of you know already, is our new account with Supranational Corporation. Personally, I'm delighted with the terms negotiated and strongly recommend approval. I'll leave it to Roscoe, who's responsible for bring.ing this new, important business to the bank, to fill in background and answer any questions.'
'Thank you, Jerome.' Roscoe Heyward eased on his rimless glasses which he had been polishing out of habit and leaned forward in his chair. When he spoke his manner seemed less austere than usual his voice pleasant and assured.
'Gentlemen, in embarking on any large loan commitment, it is prudent to seek assurance of the borrower's financial soundness, even when that borrower has a triple A credit rating, as Supranational does. In appendix 'B' of your blue folders' around the table there was again a rifling of pages 'you will find a summary I have personally prepared of assets and projected profits of the SuNatCo group, including all subsidiaries. This is based on audited financial statements plus additional data supplied at my request by Supranational's comptroller, Mr. Stanley Inchbeck. As you can see, the figures are excellent. Our risk is minimal.'
'I don't know Inchbeck's reputation,' a director interjected; he was Wallace Sperrie, owner of a scientific instrument company. 'But I know yours, Roscoe, and if you approve these figures then they're quadruple-A for me.' Several others chimed in their assent,
Alex Vandervoort doodled with a pencil on a pad in front of him.
'Thank you, Wally, and gentlemen.' Heyward permitted himself a slight smile. 'I'm hopeful your confidence will extend to the concomitant action I have recommended.'
Although the recommendations were listed in the blue folder, he described them anyway the fifty-million- dollar line of credit to be granted in full to Supranational and subsidiaries immediately, with financial cutbacks in other areas of the bank to become effective at the same time. The cutbacks, Heyward assured the listening directors, would be restored 'as soon as possible and wise,' though he preferred not to specify when. He concluded, 'I recommend this package to the board and I promise that, in light of it, our own profit figures will look very good indeed.'
As Heyward leaned back in his chair, Jerome Patterton announced, 'The meeting is open for questions and discussion.' 'frankly,' Wallace Sperrie said, 'I see no need for either. Everything's clear. I think we're witnesses to a masterstroke of business for the bank and I propose approval.' Several voices together called out, 'Second!'
'Proposed and seconded,' Jerome Patterton intoned. 'Are we ready to vote?' He obviously hoped so. His gavel was poised.
'No,' Alex Vandervoort said quietly. He pushed his pencil and doodling away. 'Nor do I think anyone else should vote without a great deal more discussion.'
Patterton sighed. He set the gavel down. Alex had already warned him, as a courtesy, of his intentions, but Patterton had hoped that Alex, sensing the near-unanimous mood of the board, would change his mind.
'I genuinely regret,' Alex Vandervoort was saying now, 'to find myself before the board in conflict with my fellow officers, Jerome and Roscoe. But I cannot, as a matter of duty and conscience, conceal my anxiety about this loan and my opposition to it.'
'What's the trouble? Doesn't your girl friend like Supranational?' The barbed question came from Forrest Richardson, a longtime PMA director; he was brusque mannered, had a reputation as a martinet, and was a crown prince of meat-packing.
Alex flushed with anger. No doubt directors remembered the public linking of his name with Margot's 'bank- in' campaign three months earlier; just the same, he was not prepared to have his personal life dissected here. But he withheld a strong retort and answered, 'Miss Bracken and I rarely discuss banking nowadays. I assure you we haven't this.'
Another director asked, 'Just what is it you don't like about the deal, Alex?' 'Everything.'
