mind, he would quit the auto industry for good.
On the way back East, by air, be made another decision: Barbara Zaleski would be the first to know.
Chapter 22
Also in August - while Brett DeLosanto was in California - the Detroit assembly plant, where Matt Zaleski was assistant plant manager, was in a state of chaos.
Two weeks earlier, production of cars had ceased. Specialist contractors had promptly moved in, their assignment to dismantle the old assembly line and create a new one on which the Orion would be built.
Four weeks had been allotted for the task. At the end of it, the first production Orion - job One - would roll off the line, then, in the three or four weeks following, a backlog of cars would be created, ready to meet expected demands after official Orion introduction day in September.
After that, if sales prognostications held, the tempo would increase, with Orions flowing from the plant in tens of thousands.
Of the time allowed for plant conversion, two weeks remained and, as always at model changeover time, Matt Zaleski wondered if he would survive them.
Most of the assembly plant's normal labor force was either laid off or enjoying paid vacations, so that only a skeleton staff of hourly paid employees reported in each day. But far from the shutdown making the life of Matt Zaleski and others of the plant management group easier, work loads increased, anxieties multiplied, until an ordinary production day seemed, by comparison, an unruffled sea.
The contractor's staff, like an occupying army, was demanding. So were company headquarters engineers who were advising, assisting, and sometimes hindering the contractors.
The plant manager, Val Reiskind, and Matt were caught in a crossfire of requests for information, hurried conferences, and orders, the latter usually requiring instant execution. Matt handled most matters which involved practical running of the plant, Reiskind being young and new.
He had replaced the previous plant manager, McKernon, only a few months earlier and while the new man's engineering and business diplomas were impressive, he lacked Matt's seasoned know-how acquired during twenty years on the job. Despite Matt's disappointment at failing to get McKernon's job, and having a younger man brought in over him, he liked Reiskind who was smart enough to be aware of his own deficiency and treated Matt decently.
Most headaches centered around new, sophisticated machine tools for assembly, which in theory worked well, but in practice often didn't.
Technically, it was the contractor who was responsible for making the whole system function, but Matt Zaleski knew that when contractor's men were gone, he would inherit any inadequate situation they might leave.
Therefore he stayed close to the action now.
The greatest enemy of all was time. There was never enough to make a changeover work so smoothly that by preassigned completion date it could be said: 'All systems go!' It was like building a house which was never ready on the day set for moving in, except that a house move could be postponed, whereas a car or truck production schedule seldom was.
An unexpected development also added to Matt's burdens. An inventory audit, before production of the previous year's models ceased, had revealed stock shortages so huge as to touch off a major investigation.
Losses from theft at any auto plant were always heavy. With thousands of workers changing shifts at the same time, it was a simple matter for thieves - either employees or walk-in intruders - to carry stolen items out.
But this time a major theft ring was obviously at work. Among items missing were more than three hundred four-speed transmissions, hundreds of tires, as well as substantial quantities of radios, tape players, air conditioners, and other components.
As an aftermath, the plant swarmed with security staff and outside detectives. Matt, though not remotely implicated, had been obliged to spend hours answering detectives' questions about plant procedure. So far there appeared to be no break in the case, though the Chief of Security told Matt, 'We have some ideas, and there are a few of your line workers we want to interrogate when they come back.' Meanwhile the detectives remained underfoot, their presence one more irritant at an arduous time.
Despite everything, Matt had come through so far, except for a small incident concerning himself which fortunately went unnoticed by anyone important at the plant.
He had been in his office the previous Saturday afternoon, seven-day work weeks being normal during model changeover, and one of the older secretaries, Iris Einfeld, who was also working, had brought him coffee.
Matt began drinking it gratefully. Suddenly, for no reason he could determine, he was unable to control the cup and it fell from his hand, the coffee spilling over his clothing and the floor.
Angry at himself for what he thought of as carelessness, Matt got up - then fell full length, heavily. Afterward, when he thought about it, it seemed as if his left leg failed him and he remembered, too, he had been holding the coffee in his left hand.
Mrs. Einfeld, who was still in Matt's office, had helped him back into his chair, then wanted to summon aid, but he dissuaded her. Instead, Matt sat for a while, and felt some of the feeling come back into his left leg and hand, though he knew he would not be able to drive home.
Eventually, with some help from Iris Einfeld, he left the office by a back stairway and she drove him home in her car. On the way he persuaded her to keep quiet about the whole thing, being afraid that if word got around he would be treated as an invalid, the last thing he wanted.
Once home, Matt managed to get to bed and stayed there until late Sunday when he felt much better, only occasionally being aware of a slight fluttering sensation in his chest. On Monday morning he was tired, but otherwise normal, and went to work.
The weekend, though, had been lonely. His daughter, Barbara, was away somewhere and Matt Zaleski had had to fend for himself. In the old days, when his wife was alive, she had always helped him over humps like model changeover time with understanding, extra affection, and meals which - no matter how long she waited for him to come home - she prepared with special care. But it seemed so long since he had known any of those things that it was hard to remember Freda had been dead less than two years. Matt realized, sadly, that when she was alive he had not appreciated her half as much as he did now.
He found himself, too, resenting Barbara's preoccupation with her own life and work. Matt would have liked nothing more than to have Barbara remain at home, available whenever he came there, and thus filling - at least in part - her mother's role. For a while after Freda's death Barbara had seemed to do that. She prepared their meal each evening, which she and Matt ate together, but gradually Barbara's outside interests revived, her work at the advertising agency increased, and nowadays they were rarely in the Royal Oak house together except to sleep, and occasionally for a hurried weekday breakfast. Months ago Barbara had urged that they seek a housekeeper, which they could well afford, but Matt resisted the idea. Now, with so much to do for himself, on top of pressures at the plant, he wished he had agreed.
He had already told Barbara, early in August, that he had changed his mind and she could go ahead and hire a housekeeper after all, to which Barbara replied that she would do so when she could, but at the moment was too busy at the agency to take time out to advertise, interview, and get a housekeeper installed. Matt had bristled at that, believing it to be a woman's business - even a daughter's - to run a home, and that a man should not have to become involved, particularly when he was under stress, as Matt was now. Barbara made it clear, however, that she regarded her own work as equally important with her father's, an attitude he could neither accept nor understand.
There was a great deal else, nowadays, that Matt Zaleski failed to understand. He had only to open a newspaper to become alternately angry and bewildered at news of traditional standards set aside, old moralities discarded, established order undermined. No one, it seemed, respected anything any more - including constituted
