The Boss of Wind River/Chapter 2

N the course of a few weeks Joe Kent began to feel that he was making some progress. The business was no longer a mysterious machine that somehow produced money for his needs. It became a breathing, throbbing creature, sensitive to the touch, thriving with attention, languishing with neglect. It was a delicate organism, wonderfully responsive to the handling. Every action, every word, every hastily dictated letter had far reaching results. Conscientiously and humbly, as became a beginner, he came to the study of it.

He began to meet his men. Not those with whom he came in daily contact in the office; but his foremen, tanned, weather-beaten, level-eyed logging bosses, silent for the most part, not at all certain how to take the “Old Man's” son, and apparently considering “yes” and “no” perfectly adequate contributions to conversation, who consumed his proffered cigars, kept their own opinions, and went their several ways.

Kent was conscious that he was being held at arm's length; conscious that the steady eyes took note of his smart shoes, his well-pressed clothes, and his smooth cheeks. He did not know that the same critical eyes also noted approvingly his broad shoulders, deep chest, and firm jaw. He felt that the questions he asked and the conversation he tried to make were not the questions and conversation which his father would have addressed to them. But he was building better than he knew.

Many old friends of William Kent dropped in to shake hands with his son, and one morning Joe was handed the card of Mr. Stanley Ackerman.

“Tell him to walk in,” said Joe.

Mr. Ackerman walked in. He was tall and slim and gray and accurately dressed. Mr. Ackerman's business, if his varied pursuits might be thus consolidated, was that of a Director of Enterprises. He was on all sorts of directorates from banks to hospitals. He had promoted or caused to be promoted many corporate activities. He was identified in one way and another with a dozen financial and industrial concerns. He was the confidential friend and twin brother of Capital; and he was smooth, very smooth.

His handshake expressed tender, delicate sympathy.

“I should have called sooner, Mr. Kent, after the recent melancholy event,” said he, “but that I feared to intrude. I knew your father very well, very well indeed. I hope to know his son as well—or better. These changes come to us all, but I was shocked, deeply shocked. I assure you, Mr. Kent, I—was—shocked.”

“Sit down, won't you?” said Joe. “Have a cigar?”

“Not in the morning, thank you,” said Ackerman. “My constitution won't stand it now. Don't mind me, though.”

He watched Joe strike a match. His gaze was very keen and measuring, as if the young man were a problem of some sort to be solved.

“And how do you find it going?” he asked. “Quite a change for you, to be saddled with a big business at a moment's notice. If I recollect, you were at college till very recently. Yes? Unfortunate. Not that I would deprecate the value of education. Not at all. A most excellent thing. Fine training for the battle of life. But at the same time scarcely a practical preparation for the duties you have been called on so suddenly to assume.”

“That's a fact,” said Joe. “Just at present I'd trade a couple of the years I spent there for one in the office. However, I'm learning slowly. Doing the best I can, you know.”

“No doubt, no doubt,” returned Ackerman cordially. “If I had a son—I am sorry I haven't—and Providence in its inscrutable wisdom saw fit to remove me—we never can tell; as the Good Book says, Death comes like a thief in the night—that is how I would wish him to face the world. Bravely and modestly, as you are doing. No doubt you feel your responsibilities, eh?”

“Well, yes,” Joe admitted. “I have my experience to get, and the concern is pretty large. Naturally it worries me a little.”

“Ah,” said Mr. Ackerman thoughtfully, “it's a pity your father never took action along the lines of a conversation I had with him a few months ago. I expressed surprise that he had never turned his business into a joint stock company, and—rather to my surprise I confess, for he was a little old-fashioned in such matters—he said he had been thinking of doing so. He observed, and very truly, that he was as capable of managing his own affairs as any board of directors, but that if anything happened to him, such experienced advice would be of inestimable benefit to you. And then he spoke of the limited liability feature as desirable. Looking back at that conversation,” said Mr. Ackerman with a gentle sigh, “it almost seems as if he had a premonition. I assure you that he spoke with the greatest earnestness, as if he had thought the matter over carefully and arrived at a definite conclusion. And yet I suppose nothing has been done in that direction, yet?”

No, nothing had been done, Joe told him. In fact, this was the first intimation he had had that such a thing had entered his father's thoughts.

That, said Mr. Ackerman, was too bad. It was a great responsibility for a young man—too great. Now, a board of experienced directors would share it, and they would have an active interest in advising properly.

“Meaning that the advice I get now isn't proper?” asked Joe, with just a little tightening of the mouth.

“Meaning nothing of the sort,” Ackerman hastened to disclaim. “Don't misunderstand me. But you must admit that it is irresponsible. In the long run you pay the piper.”

“That's true enough,” Joe admitted. “In the end it's up to me, of course.”

“Just so,” said Mr. Ackerman. “That is what your father foresaw and intended to provide against. If he had been spared a few months longer I believe he would have formed a company, retaining the controlling interest himself, so that you might have had the benefit of the advice of a board of experienced directors.”

Joe Kent was quite sure his father would not have done anything of the kind, but he did not say so.

Ackerman bestowed on him another measuring glance and proceeded:

“You see, Mr. Kent, business history shows that, generally speaking, the collective wisdom of half a dozen men is greater than that of the individual. The exceptions only prove the rule. The weak points in any proposition rarely get past half a dozen experienced men. And then we must remember that influence makes for success. Naturally the influence of half a dozen representative men helps to get business as it helps the business to buy cheaply, and as it helps to transact business properly. Why,”—here Mr. Ackerman became prophetic—“I venture to say, Mr. Kent, that if this business of yours were turned into a joint stock company and the proper gentlemen interested, its volume would double in a very short time.”

“Perhaps so,” said Joe doubtfully.

“Why not do it?” said Mr. Ackerman, seizing the psychological moment. “I would take stock myself. I think I know of others who would. And as to forming and organizing the company, I need not say that any small knowledge I may have of such matters is entirely at your service.”

“Very good of you,” said Joe. “It's a new idea to me. I don't think, though, that I quite like it. This is my business now, and I run it. If a company were formed I couldn't do that. I'd have to do as I was told. Of course I understand I'd have votes according to what stock I held, but it wouldn't be the same thing.”

“Nominally different only,” Ackerman assured him. “Very properly you would retain a majority of the shares—that is, a controlling interest. Then you'd be made managing director, at a good salary. No doubt that would be the arrangement. So that you would have an assured income, a dividend on your stock, and practical control of the business, as well as the advice of experienced men and consequent freedom from a good deal of worry. If I were in your place—speaking as one who has seen a good many ups and downs in business—I should not hesitate.”

But in spite of this personal clinching argument young Kent did hesitate. And this hesitation so much resembled a plain mulish balk that Mr. Ackerman was a trifle disconcerted. Nevertheless he beamed upon the young man with tolerant good nature.

“Well, well, a new proposition,” said he. “Take time to think it over—take plenty of time. You must see its advantages. New capital brought in would permit the business to expand. It would pay off the debts”

“Debts!” said young Kent icily. “What debts?”

“Why—ah—” Mr. Ackerman was again slightly disconcerted—“you must be aware of the mortgages existing, Mr. Kent.”

“I am,” said Kent, “but how do you know about them? What business are they of yours?”

“Tut, tut!” said Ackerman reprovingly. “I read a weekly commercial report, like other men. The mortgages are no secret.”

“I beg your pardon,” said Kent. “I shouldn't have spoken as I did. Fact is, I'm a little touchy on that subject.”

“Needlessly so,” said Ackerman. “Most of my own property is mortgaged, and I don't consider it a disgrace. I can use the money to better advantage in other ways. Well, as I was saying, the new capital would expand the business, the advice of experienced gentlemen would make things easy for you; and if the property was put in at a good, liberal valuation—as of course it would be—your holding would be worth more than it is to-day.”

“That is, the experienced gentlemen would water the stock,” said Kent.

Mr. Ackerman reddened a little. “A liberal valuation isn't water,” he replied. “Those who would buy into the concern wouldn't be apt to give you too much. Of course, they would desire to be perfectly fair.”

“Oh, of course,” said Kent. “Well, Mr. Ackerman, I don't think we need discuss the matter further, for I've decided to keep on paddling my own little canoe.”

“Think it over, think it over,” Ackerman urged.

“I have thought it over,” said Joe. “You see, Mr. Ackerman, I may not know much about this business, but I don't know any more about any other. So I might as well stick to it.”

“The plan I have outlined—” Ackerman began.

“I don't like,” Kent put in, smiling. “My position is this: I want to handle this business myself and make a success at it. I expect to make mistakes, but not the same mistake twice. I'm awfully obliged for your interest, but to be told what to do by a board of directors would spoil all my fun.”

“Fun!” echoed Mr. Ackerman, horrified. “My dear sir, business—is—not—fun!”

“It is for me—about the bulliest fun I ever had in my life,” said young Kent. “I never played a game I liked as well.”

Mr. Ackerman shook his head sadly. The young man was hopeless. “I suppose,” he said casually, as he rose to go, “that in the event of a syndicate offering you a fair price for the whole concern, lock, stock, and barrel, you wouldn't sell?”

“No, I don't think so,” Joe replied.

“Ah, well, youth is ever sanguine,” said Mr. Ackerman. “Your energy and confidence do you credit, Mr. Kent, though I'm rather sorry you won't entertain the company idea. We could make this a very big business on that basis. Perhaps, later, you may come around to it. Anyway, I wish you luck. If I can assist you in any way at any time just let me know. Good morning. Good morning! Remember, in any way, at any time.”

Joe, from his favourite position at the window, saw Mr. Ackerman emerge from the building and begin his dignified progress down the street.

“I didn't like his stock proposition,” he thought, “but I guess he isn't a bad old sport at bottom. Seems to mean well. I'm sorry I was rude to him.”

Just then Mr. Ackerman, looking up, caught his eye. Joe waved a careless, friendly hand. Mr. Ackerman so far forgot his dignity as to return the friendly salute, and smiled upward benignantly.

“The damned young pup!” said Mr. Ackerman behind his smile.