The Lever: A Novel

by William Dana Orcutt

"I cannot agree with you," Gorham said, firmly. "Your concern had been standing still for six years when we took hold of it—the business had even gone backward the last year—yet in two years' time, under our administration, it shows a gross gain of thirty-three and one-third per cent. and a net gain of twenty-five. I am enlarging on Mr. Litchfield's case because, in a measure, it is an answer to you all, and a full justification of the basis upon which I have rested and shall continue to rest the operations of the Companies. It has been my pride that it was possible to administer the affairs of this corporation in such a way that not only could we boast that during the five years of our business existence we had lived up to the principles on which we originally built, but also that we have proved it a sound financial proposition. Never before in the history of the world has any body of men associated themselves in business with the avowed purpose of making their organization an advantage to the people, without either failing signally in their undertaking or proving themselves false to their responsibilities. We have reached a point where failure is impossible; we find ourselves receiving greater returns upon our investment than is yielded by any other organization in existence. Can it be possible that there is one man among us who wishes to take away from the Companies the unique position which it has now gained?"

It was evident that Litchfield had been appointed the spokesman for the committee, as he immediately assumed the responsibility of replying to Gorham's remarks.

"May I not ask our president if he does not overestimate the importance of standing up so straight that there is danger of falling over backward? There is no difference of opinion as to the commercial value of the great asset which he has established for the Companies, in so completely winning the confidence of the people at large as well as those who hold high positions of trust. We should stultify ourselves were we to take any such stand, for the profits of the Companies are an irrefutable argument. The question before us, then, is not one of fact, but rather of degree. Why should we spend these further millions to gain that which we have already secured? We should still so administer the affairs of the Companies as to hold this great advantage, but I maintain that we should pay no more to hold it than is absolutely necessary."

Gorham glanced around to see if any one else was disposed to add to what Litchfield had said, but the silence which prevailed indicated more clearly than words that the speaker had expressed the consensus of opinion.

"I am waiting for some one to remind Mr. Litchfield that he has overlooked, in his statement, a fact which possesses vital significance," Gorham said at length. "The Consolidated Companies has received from the people concessions which it has succeeded in making immensely valuable. It has accepted these concessions in trust upon the distinct understanding that those who gave them should receive equal benefit. So far, this trust has been religiously observed. Every dollar of profit which the stockholders have divided represents a like amount paid back to those to whom it belongs. To pay them less would be not only a breach of faith, but would be to retain that which does not belong to us. It is not for Mr. Litchfield or for me to determine the amount—the proportion has already been settled by our original covenant."

Litchfield moved uneasily in his chair as Gorham ceased speaking.

"You put it in rather a disagreeable form, Mr. Gorham. Perhaps the fact that you have been talking this side of the enterprise for so long has made you assimilate more of your own theories than is ordinarily the case. Of course, in the beginning, it was necessary to make the statements strong in order to be convincing, but there was no 'covenant,' as you call it, and the people are not in a position to exact an equal division unless we choose to give it to them."

"Can it be that I understand you correctly?" Gorham demanded, with mingled indignation and amazement. "Do you mean to imply that I have not been sincere in stating to the public the original basis upon which we incorporated? Do you suggest that when one party to the agreement has lived fairly up to his end of it we, the other party, should neglect to do the same, simply because he has no access to our books and no power to demand an accounting?"

"You are far too literal in your interpretation of my remarks," Litchfield protested, with some warmth. "This parallel you have drawn is absurd on the face of it. There has been no legal agreement that we should treat the dear public as if it were in actual partnership with us. You have held out certain inducements which have secured for us the concessions, and we have made good the promise you gave that our success meant advantage to the people. But all this was a means to an end. For five years the public has shared equally with those of us who have put money and brains into the Consolidated Companies. No one suggests that the people should not still continue to receive benefits, but those of us here present are unanimous in our conviction that the time has now come to conduct the Companies upon a strictly business basis. This is not the age for quixotic sentimentality, and the Consolidated Companies not only possesses the right, but the power to maintain its position upon the same basis as other smaller and less powerful organizations. Speaking for myself alone, I am amazed that Robert Gorham, with his exceptional and acknowledged business acumen, should take a position with his Executive Committee which is as disadvantageous to his own interests as it is to the stockholders'."

No one but Gorham himself saw the mist which momentarily rose before his eyes, yet, when it passed, his vision was clearer than it had ever been. The men sitting around him represented the flower of the business world, each one of whom stood before his fellow-men as a tangible expression of honor and integrity. Yet not one was able to comprehend Gorham's viewpoint, not one could be anything but incredulous that he stood sincere in the position he had taken. This was what hurt him most. The applause which his associates had awarded him had been as that won by a clever actor rather than, as he had believed, the responsive echo forced from their souls by the battle notes of a new cause. Their acceptance of his doctrines had been because his arguments had persuaded them of the material side of the enterprise. The very magnetism which they had felt exercised by him upon themselves they had capitalized as an asset to be assayed when once the ore was stopped. All the high-sounding claims were turned at this moment into empty platitudes. All his promises were valueless beyond his personal strength to make them good. To this extent Allen had been right, but it was not too late to recognize the danger and to meet it. His associates saw the Robert Gorham they thought they had known for five years sitting in repose before them while this realization of the situation surged through his brain—they saw the real Robert Gorham when he rose to his feet, and faced them with a force they felt before a word was spoken.