Part 48 (2/2)

I kept my face blank and didn't answer. I didn't agree with him, but at the same time I didn't want to argue with him just now. It was simply a matter of money the way I saw it. The fact that they were Jewish was only incidental.

He took my silence for acquiescence. He leaned forward in his seat and spoke in a low voice across the table. ”And now, with what's happening to Borden and with what's happening to others, I know I was right. The anti-Semiten are out to steal the picture business away from us.”

I looked at him. For a moment I felt sorry for him. He couldn't understand. His att.i.tudes had been forced upon him by years of persecution, of deprivation, of living in crowded dirty ghettos. The history of the Jews was filled with oppression. It was only natural those years should instill in him their fears and effects.

But he must realize deep inside him that he was wrong. The picture business was no more a Jewish business than the banking business, or the insurance business. If our own company was any criterion, that would be the truth. Of the three of us who started it, only Peter was Jewish. Joe Turner was Irish-Catholic. I was a Methodist as far as I knew. And the three of us got exactly nowhere until an Italian loaned us the money.

Peter paid the check and got to his feet. As we walked to the door of the restaurant slowly, he whispered to me: ”We'll have to watch our step very carefully now, Johnny. They'll be out to get us!”

I got back to my office very perturbed over Peter's att.i.tude. I lit a cigarette and leaned back in my chair thinking. An att.i.tude such as he expressed could very well becloud a man's judgment and bring him harm. At last I shook my head and decided to forget it. Probably Peter only spoke that way because he was upset over what was happening to his friend.

Borden was as good as his word. Within three months he had repaid his loan. But the struggle went on.

The pattern had become clearly established by now. It was the old struggle for control. Which would dominate the industry, financial power or production power? The eyes of the industry were on the fight that was going on in the Borden Companies. The trade papers ran daily reports on the latest developments and were very careful to be impartial. They didn't know whom they would be doing business with when the fight was over and they didn't want to prejudice their daily bread and b.u.t.ter.

By the end of 1931 the Borden Companies had lost an additional six million dollars and a group of stockholders inst.i.tuted suit against William Borden and several of the princ.i.p.al stockholders and officers of the company, charging mismanagement and appropriation of company funds and acting in a manner prejudicial to the best interests of that company. They asked that a receiver be appointed to examine the company and control it until its difficulties were cleared up and the company was once more returned to a sound and profitable basis.

It was common gossip in the industry that several of the very people named as defendants in the suit were secretly aiding in its prosecution in order to remove Borden from a position of control. The case was finally brought to court early in 1932.

Bill Borden had taken the stand early in the hearings and revealed the fact that he had been serving as president for the past two years without one cent as compensation. He further disclosed that he had not drawn any reimburs.e.m.e.nt for expenses during that time, paying all expenses from his own pocket. He made public a list of recommendations he had submitted to the board throughout the past few years which would have enabled them to reduce their operating expenses and save them millions of dollars. The board had rejected those recommendations summarily as they had any other suggestions he had made.

The complainants on the other hand had an equally long list of abuses they presented to the court. One of the items mentioned was Borden's purchase of our theaters without consultation with the board. I knew it was a lot of poppyc.o.c.k, as he had approval from his board a year prior to the actual purchase. Borden pointed this out to them. They countered with the charge that the approval given was for that specific time, and if it came up again, the entire matter should have been resubmitted.

I remember the day the decision was handed down in the Borden case. I remember it well for many reasons. It was the day after the inauguration of President Roosevelt and I could still thrill, twenty-four hours after I had heard his voice over the radio, saying the very same words I now read in the morning papers: ”The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.”

It had been only that morning that I had spoken to Peter and he had a.s.sured me that Borden couldn't lose. The phone in my office rang and I picked it up.

”Peter is calling,” Jane's voice told me.

”Okay,” I said, ”put him on.” I wondered what he wanted. I looked at my watch. It was nine thirty. That made it six thirty on the coast and it was a little early even for Peter to call.

Peter's voice came on. ”h.e.l.lo, Johnny?”

”Yes, Peter,” I said. ”What gets you up so early this morning?”

”I wanted to make sure you called me as soon as you get word of the decision in the Borden case,” he said.

”That's today, isn't it?” I asked.

”Yes,” he replied. ”And I want you to keep watch on what's happening and call me as soon as you get some word.”

”I'll do that, Peter,” I promised. I hesitated a moment. ”How do you think it will turn out?” I asked.

”Willie will win,” he said confidently.

”What makes you think so?” I asked him. I wasn't so sure.

His voice sounded surprised that I should doubt him. ”Why, I just spoke to Willie Borden this morning before I talked to you and he told me that he can't miss.”

After a few more words we hung up. I looked down at my desk. I hoped Bill would win, but the other side had thrown up a h.e.l.l of a case. And they had better connections too.

I called Bannon in newsreel and told him to have the trial covered. I didn't want any pictures, I just wanted a man to report to me the moment a decision was handed down.

At two o'clock in the afternoon I was on the phone, talking to Peter, with the decision of the court already a matter of record.

Peter came on the phone briskly. His voice was confident and full of snap. ”Well, Johnny”-I could almost see him smiling-”what was it?”

I tried to keep my voice as unemotional as possible. ”He lost,” I said succinctly. ”Gerard Powell, of Powell & Company, was appointed temporary receiver.”

I could hear Peter's breath rush out against the phone. For a moment there was silence. ”Peter,” I said quickly, ”are you there? Did you hear me?”

Then his voice came back on. It was very low and very crushed. ”I heard you,” he said, and then the phone went dead in my hands.

I flashed the operator. ”Was my call disconnected?” I asked.

”No, Mr. Edge,” she replied in that snotty tone that comes automatically to telephone operators when their efficiency is doubted, ”Mr. Kessler has hung up.”

I put the phone down and stared at my desk. This morning Borden had told Peter he was sure he would win the case. I wondered how he felt now. It couldn't be too bad for him, he was still a wealthy man.

I didn't have long to wait to find out. The next morning he committed suicide.

I had just returned from lunch and was settling in my chair when the phone rang. I picked it up.

It was Irving Bannon. ”Johnny,” his voice was excited, ”Bill Borden just committed suicide!”

For a moment I was numb, my mind was spinning like a top in my frozen body. At last I managed to speak. ”Are you sure, Irving?” I asked. I still couldn't believe it.

”It just came over the Teletype,” he answered.

”Where? How did it happen?”

”I don't know,” he replied. ”It was just a flash. They said more would follow.”

”Keep me posted as soon as you hear any more,” I told him, and started to hang up.

”Hold on a minute,” Irving's voice said quickly. ”The Teletype is going again. There may be something more on it.”

I heard him put down the phone. For a second there was silence; then I could hear the clacking of the machine coming through the wire. It kept up for several minutes, then it was quiet and Irving came back on the phone. ”You got something?” I asked.

”Yeah,” he said, ”but not much.”

”Read it to me,” I ordered.

His voice was very flat as he read: ”The body of William Borden, prominent motion-picture magnate, was discovered dead at one fifteen p.m. today by the New York City police in a cold-water flat on Rivington Street in New York's lower East Side. He had died of a bullet wound in the temple and close to the body was a police positive .38-caliber pistol. The police believe it to be suicide. Just yesterday Mr. Borden was defeated in court in an attempt to keep his hundred-million-dollar corporation from being thrown into receivers.h.i.+p, and the police believe this to be the motive for his taking his life. More to follow.”

I sat very still. Peter would want to know about this. I didn't want to call him, but I had to. ”Okay, Irving,” I said, suddenly exhausted. ”Thanks.”

<script>