_33._ The President of the United States, as befitted a farmer knowing something of gra.s.ses on his own account, issued a proclamation of thanksgiving for the end of the peril which had beset the country. The stockmarket recovered from funereal depths and jumped upward. In all the great cities hysterical rapture so heated the blood of the people that all restraints withered. In frantic joy women were raped in the streets, dozens of banks were looted, thousands of plategla.s.swindows were smashed while millions of celebrants wept tears of 86 proof ecstasy. Torn tickertapes made Broadway impa.s.sable and the smallest whistlestops spontaneously revived the old custom of uprooting outhouses and perching them on the church steeple.
I had my own particular reason to rejoice coincident with the stoppage of the gra.s.s. It was so unreal, so dreamlike, that for many days I had trouble convincing myself of its actuality. It began with a series of agitated telephone messages from a firm of stockbrokers asking for my immediate presence, which because of my a.s.signments, failed to reach me for some time. So engrossed was I in the events surrounding the victory over the gra.s.s I could not conceive why any broker would want to see me and so put off my visit several times, till the urgency of the calls began to pique my curiosity.
The man who greeted me was runcible, with little strands of sickly hair twisted mopwise over his bald head. His striped suit was rumpled, the collar of his shirt was wrinkled, and dots of perspiration stood out on his upperlip and forehead. "Mr Weener?" he asked. "Oh, thank G.o.d, thank G.o.d."
Completely at a loss, I followed him into his private office. "You recall commissioning us--when we were located in Pomona--to purchase some shares of Consolidated Pemmican and Allied Concentrates for your account?"
To tell the truth, while I had not forgotten the event, I had been sufficiently ashamed of my rashness to have pushed all recollection of the transaction to the back of my mind. But I nodded confirmingly.
"No doubt you would be willing to sell at a handsome profit?"
Aha, I thought, the rise of the market has sent Consolidated Pemmican up for once beyond its usual 1/8. I am probably a rich man and this fellow wants to cheat me of the fruits of my foresight. "You bought the stock outright?"
"Of course, Mr Weener," he affirmed in a hurt tone.
"Good. Then I will take immediate delivery."
He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his lip and forehead with evident inefficiency for the perspiration either remained or started afresh. "Mr Weener," he said, "I am authorized to offer you six times--six times,"
he echoed impressively, "the amount of your original investment. This is an amazing return."
If it was worth it to him, it was worth it to me. "I will take immediate delivery," I repeated firmly.
"And no brokerage fees involved," he added, as one making an unbelievable concession.
I shook my head.
"Mr Weener," he said, "I have been empowered to make you an incredible tender for your stock. Not only will the boardofdirectors of Consolidated Pemmican return to you six times the amount of your investment, but they will a.s.sign to you, over and above this price, 49 percent of the company"s votingstock. It is a magnificent and unparalleled bid and I sincerely advise you to take it."
I pressed my palms into the back of the chair. I, Albert Weener, was a capitalist. The money involved already seemed negligible, for it was a mere matter of a few thousand dollars, but to own what amounted to a controlling interest, even in a defunct or somnolent corporation, made me an important person. Only a reflex made me gasp, "I will take immediate delivery."
The broker dropped his hands against his thighs. "Mr Weener, you are an acute man. Mr Weener, I must confess the truth. You have bought more shares of Consolidated Pemmican than there are in existence; you not only own the firm, lock, stock and barrel, but you owe yourself money."
He gave a weak laugh.
"Above and beyond this, Mr Weener, through an unfortunate series of events due to the confusion of the times--without it, such an absurd situation would never have occurred--several people: our own firm, our New York correspondents, and the present heads of Consolidated Pemmican are liable to prosecution by the Securities Exchange Commission. We can only throw ourselves on your mercy."
I waved this aside magnanimously. "Where is my property located?"
"Well, I believe Consolidated Pemmican has an office in New York."
"Yes, but the factory, the works; where is the product made?"
"Strictly speaking, I understand active operations ceased back in 1919.
However, there is a plant somewhere in New Jersey, I think; I"ll look it up for you."
My dream of wealth began fading as the whole situation became clear and suspicions implicit in the peculiar behavior of the stock were confirmed. The corporation had evidently fallen into the hands of unscrupulous promoters who manipulated for the small but steady "take"
its fluctuations on the market afforded. Without attempting to operate the factory, my reasoning ran, they had taken advantage of the stock"s low price to double whatever they cared to invest twice yearly. It was a neat and wellshaped little racket and discovery, as the broker admitted, would have exposed them to legal action. Only my recklessness with the checks from the _Weekly Ruminant_ and the _Honeycomb_ had broken the routine.
But ... they had offered me several thousand dollars, evidently in cold cash. Defunct or not, then, the business was presumably worth at least that. And if they had employed the stock to maintain some sort of income, why, I could certainly learn to do the same. I was an independent man afterall.
Except for the slightly embarra.s.sing detail of being without current funds I was also free of Le ffacase and the _Daily Intelligencer_. "Mr Blank," I said, "I need some money for immediate expenses."
"I knew youd see things in a sensible light, Weener. I"ll have your check in a minute."
"You misunderstand me. I have no intention of giving up any part of Consolidated Pemmican."
"Ah?"
"No."
He looked at me intently. "Mr. Weener, I am not a wealthy man. Above and beyond that, since this gra.s.s business started, I a.s.sure you any common laborer has made more money than I. Any common laborer," he repeated sadly.
"Oh, I only need about a thousand dollars for immediate outlays. Just write me a check for that much, like a good fellow."
"Mr Weener, how can we be sure you won"t call upon us again for more--ah--expensemoney?"
I drew myself up indignantly. "Mr Blank, no one has ever questioned my integrity before. When I say a thousand dollars is all the expensemoney I require, why, it is all the expensemoney I require. To doubt it is to insult me."
"Ah," he said.
"Ah," I agreed.
Reluctantly he wrote the check and handed it to me. Then, more amicably, we settled the details of the stock transfer and he gave me the location of my property. I went back to the _Intelligencer_ office with the springy step of a man who acknowledges no master. In my mind I prepared a triumph: I would wait--even if it took days--for the first bullying word from Le ffacase and then I would magnificently fling my resignation in his face.
_34._ When the gra.s.s was thought to be invincible, Miss Francis, as the discoverer of the compound which started it on its course, was the recipient of a universal if grudging respect. Those whom the gra.s.s had made homeless hated her and would have overcome their natural feeling of protection toward a woman sufficiently to lynch her if they could. Men like Senator Jones instinctively disliked her; others, like Dr Johnson, detested her, but no one thought of her lightly, even when they glibly coupled the word nut with her name.
When it was found the saltband worked Miss Francis immediately became the b.u.t.t of all the ridicule and contumely which could be heaped upon her head. What could you expect of a woman who meddled with things outside her province? Since she had a.s.serted the gra.s.s would absorb everything, its failure to absorb the salt proved beyond all doubt she was an ignoramus, a dangerous charlatan, and a crazy woman, better locked up, who had destroyed Southern California to her own obscure benefit. The victory over the gra.s.s became a victory over Miss Francis; of the ordinary gumchewing moviegoing maninthestreet over the pretentious highbrow. She was ignominiously ejected from her chickenhouse-laboratory on the ground that it was more needed for its original use, and she was jeered at in every vehicle of public expression. In spite of my natural chivalry, I cannot say I pitied her in her fall, which she took with an unbecoming humility amounting to arrogance.
_35._ It was amazing how quickly viewpoints returned to an apparent normality as soon as the gra.s.s stopped at the saltband. That it still existed, in undisputed possession of nearly all Southern California after dispersing and scattering millions of people all over the country, disturbing by its very being a large part of the national economy, was only something read in newspapers, an accepted fact to be pushed into the farthest background of awareness, now the immediate threat was gone.
The salt patrol, vigilant for erosions or leachings, a select corps, was alert night and day to keep the saline wall intact. The general att.i.tude, if it concerned itself at all with the events of the past half year, looked upon it merely as one of those setbacks periodically afflicting the country like depressions, epidemics, floods, earthquakes, or other manmade or natural misfortunes. The United States had been a great nation when Los Angeles was a pueblo of five thousand people; the movies could set up in business elsewhere, Iowans find another spot for senescence, the country go on much as usual.
One of the first results of the defeat of the gra.s.s was the building, almost overnight, it seemed, of a great city on the east bank of the Salton Sea. Displaced realtors from the metropolis found the surrounding mountains ideally suited for subdivision and laid out romantically named suburbs large enough to contain the entire population of California before the site of the city had been completely surveyed. Beyond their claims, the memorial parks, columbariums, homes of eternal rest and elysian lawns offered choice lots--with a special discount on caskets--on the installmentplan. Magnificent brochures were printed, a skeletal biographical dictionary--$5 for notice, $50 for a portrait--planned, advertis.e.m.e.nts in leading magazines urged the migration of industry: "contented labor and all local taxes remitted for ten years."
These essential preliminaries accomplished, the city itself was laid out, watermains installed, and paving and grading begun. It was no great feat to divert the now aimless Colorado River aqueduct to the site nor to erect thousands of prefabricated houses. The climate was declared to be unequalled, salubrious, equable, pleasant and bracing. Factories were erected, airports laid out, hospitals, prisons, and insane asylums built. The Imperial and Coach.e.l.la valleys shipped their products in at low cost, and as a gesture to those who might suffer from homesickness it was called New Los Angeles.
Perhaps in relief from the fear and despair so recently dispelled, New Los Angeles began to boom from the moment the mayor first handed the key to a pa.s.sing distinguished visitor. It grew and spread as the gra.s.s had grown and spread, the embryonic skeletons of its unborn skyline rivaled the height of the green ma.s.s now triumphant in its namesake, presenting, as newsphotographers were quick to see, an aspect from the west not entirely dissimilar to Manhattan"s.
To New Los Angeles, of course, the _Daily Intelligencer_ moved as soon as a tent large enough to house its presses could be set up. But I did not move with it. For some reason, perhaps intuitively forewarned of my intention, Le ffacase never gave me the opportunity to humiliate him as I planned. On the contrary, I received from him, a few days before the paper"s removal, a silly and characteristic note: "Since the freak gra.s.s has been stopped it seems indicated other abnormalities be terminated also. Your usefulness to this paper, always debatable, is now clearly at an end. As of this moment your putative services will be no longer required. W.R.L."
Bitter vexation came over me at having lost the opportunity to give this bully a piece of my mind and my impulse was to go immediately to his office and tell him I scorned his petty paycheck, but I reflected a man of his nature would merely find some tricky way of turning the interview to his malicious satisfaction and he would know soon enough it was the paper which was suffering a loss and not I.
I started next morning and drove eastward toward my property, quite satisfied to leave behind forever the scenes of my early struggles. The West had given me only petty irritations. In the East, with its older culture and higher level of intelligence, I looked forward to having my worth appreciated.