The Man on the Ladder 6: The Calm






Clarence Perryman worked hard for twenty years at the First Bank of Valentine.  Six days a week, twelve hours a day.  Toiling away at investments and balancing statements.  He calculated interest and escrow with ease.  Which is not to say he didn’t give great labor into his work.  Now that he climbed the ladder and was on the top rung, he prided himself in earning the title of manager.  No longer a young man, he could delegate responsibilities and, indeed, pass the buck when things went awry.  Perryman valued two things now: money and the calm.

Money was status.  Money was wealth.  Money was a symbol of worth.  It enriched him and his clients.  His top clients, his constituents if you will.  The calm was his routine.  There was little stress in his life if everybody pulled their weight.  It was very important for his staff to buffer any conflict and deliver stellar reports and good news.  And now one of his employees, his bungling nephew, was disrupting his quiet tranquil morning paper with an unscheduled visit from a tall man who smelled of stale tobacco and a fat borderline scowling man obviously acting as muscle.  He would not be intimidated, oh no!  But they claimed to be with the Middle Pacific Railroad?  He anticipated the Sioux City and Pacific Railroad to pass through, not MPR.  Clarence did suppose the rail road industry to be a fickle one. He smelled a nice commission!  He just hoped his nephew could clean that burn off his desk.  It was mahogany!

“Well then, Mr. Rose.  Let us get down to the brass tacks!” said Mr. Perryman to the Tall One, “How can we make money?  Shut the door please, Mr. Falkner?”

The Fat One did not oblige and stepped a shade forward.  “That would not be necessary. We prefer to operate above board.  There is nothing to hide.”  He then shuffled slightly to the right opening the doorway ever more.  Now he was directly behind the Tall One.  It was like staring at a two-tiered totem pole.  They were just as wooden, just as compelling.

Mr. Perryman did not quite know how to proceed.  Following an awkward lull, he reconvened the discussion.  “You have the floor, Mr. Rose.”

“Mr. Perryman, I am a simple, undramatic man.  Let us keep this as brief and cordial as possible.  Within the decade MPR will extend lines through your town.  We will acquire property.  From time to time conflict arises and we must bring lawyers into town.  I do not like that.  Lawyers cost money and frankly, are impolite and unpleasant.  The solicitors have a perfect track record of supporting our claims.  Kohl versus The United States affirmed the government’s rights to claim land for the public good.  I assure you sir, your state and federal representatives are healthily financed by parties sympathetic to MPR’s agenda.  I also assure you, it is all above board as my colleague Mr. Falkner stated.”

Mr. Perryman’s face flushed.  His eyes swelled and he began to perspire.

The Tall One let out a roaring laugh.  The customers in the lobby perked up at that.  Some tried to not let on that they were trying to listen in.  “Clarence, take a breath.”  He looked back at the Fat One behind him and nodded.  The Fat One walked behind Perryman’s desk and grabbed a tumbler and a bottle of scotch.

“Relax,” commanded the Fat One.

“Mr. Perryman, I just needed to get that unpleasantry out of the way.  Sir, a lot of people are going to be very happy.  We are requesting you act as our agent here.  You are in a unique position to know all relevant parties.  You are also privy to knowing market value.  We are willing to pay 50% above fair-market value for all property needed to accommodate our tracks and relevant right of ways.  You will receive a 20% commission.  You will receive an additional handsome bonus if you get everybody on board, and we do not have to bring in a legal team.  If we are delayed and are required to use the courts to gain eminent domain rights, I can guarantee we will only pay out pennies on the dollar.  We trust you will represent our best interest, but will require records illustrating how market value was determined.  You are smiling Mr. Perryman; can I assume you are pleased with our proposal?”

Perryman was indeed pleased.  He did not want to seem too eager.  It showed though, he was a banker, not a faro or poker player.  His eyes betrayed him.  “Yes sir, I believe I can accommodate your request.  I will dictate the terms to my assistant and he will draw up the papers.  Would you like to meet for dinner to sign the contract?”

“No.” answered the Tall One.  “Just bring them to the hotel in the morning.  We will run them by after breakfast.  I suggest you summon all the interested parties in about a week for a quorum.  I assume the church would be the best place.  We will see you in the morning.”

Mr. Perryman was giddy.  This could be his big break.  He could easily make ten years salary inside a few months’ time.  He would, however, have to work.  Meanwhile, he needed his nephew to buff and polish his desk.

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