And this this was the lazy man"s prize. Those cadet officers were perfect specimens and the chances that one would be too ill to take his day"s duty ranged from negligible to zero. was the lazy man"s prize. Those cadet officers were perfect specimens and the chances that one would be too ill to take his day"s duty ranged from negligible to zero.
For three years our hero had been standing watch about every tenth day. These watches weren"t difficult, but they involved either getting to bed a half hour late or getting up a half hour early, and much standing on tired feet, all an affront to Dave"s tender regard for his comfort.
But his last year David stood only three watches, and he "stood" those sitting down, as "Junior Officer of the Watch."
At last the Day arrived. David graduated, was commissioned -then went to the chapel and remarried his wife. If her belly bulged a little, that was not unusual in brides even in those days, and was always ignored, and condoned once a young couple married. It was widely known though rarely mentioned that an eager young bride could accomplish in seven months or less what takes nine for cow or countess.
Dave was safely past all rocks and shoals; he need never again fear going back to that mule and "honest work."
But life as a junior officer in a warship turned out to be less than perfect. It had good points-servants, a comfortable bed, easy work that rarely got David"s hands dirty, and twice as much money. But he needed that and more, to support a wife, and his ship was at sea enough that he often lacked the pleasant compensations of marriage. Worst of all, he stood heel-and-toe watches on a short watch list; this meant a four-hour night watch about every other night-standing up. He was sleepy much of the time and his feet hurt.
So David applied for training as an aeronaut. This Navy had recently grasped an idea called "air power" and was trying to grab as much of it as possible in order to keep it out of the wrong hands-the Army"s hands, that is. They were behind as the Army had grabbed first-so volunteers for flying were welcome.
David was quickly ordered to sh.o.r.e duty to see if he had the makings of an aeronaut.
He had indeed! He not only had the mental and physical qualities but also was highly motivated-as his new work was done sitting down, whether in cla.s.sroom or in the air, and he stood no night watches and received pay-and-a-half for sitting down and sleeping at home; flying was cla.s.sed as "hazardous duty" and extra pay was awarded.
I had best say something about these aeroplanes since they resemble not at all the aerodynes you are used to. In a way they were hazardous. So is breathing. They were not as hazardous as the automotive ground vehicles then in use, and not nearly as hazardous as being a pedestrian. Accidents, fatal and otherwise, usually could be traced to a mistake on the part of the aeronaut-David never never let that sort of accident happen to let that sort of accident happen to him. him. He had no wish to be the hottest pilot in the sky; he merely wanted to be the oldest. He had no wish to be the hottest pilot in the sky; he merely wanted to be the oldest.
Aeroplanes were weird monstrosities looking like nothing in the sky today, save possibly a child"s kite-they were often called "kites." They had two wings, one above the other, and the aeronaut sat between them. A small baffle helped to deflect wind from his face. Don"t look surprised; these flimsy structures flew very slowly, pulled through the air by a powered screw.
Wings were made of varnished cloth held rigid by struts-you can see from this alone that their speeds could never be any large fraction of the speed of sound-except on sad occasions when an overly eager pilot would dive straight down, then pull the wings off through trying too abruptly to recover a normal att.i.tude.
Which David never did. Some people are natural fliers. The first time David examined an aeroplane he understood its strengths and weaknesses as thoroughly as he understood the milking stool he had left behind him.
He learned to fly almost as quickly as he had learned to swim.
His instructor said, "Dave, you"re a natural. I"m going to recommend you for fighter training."
Fighter pilots were the royalty of aeroplane fliers; they went up and engaged enemy pilots in single combat. A fighter who did this successfully five times-killed the opposing pilot instead of being killed-was called an "Ace," which was a high honor, for, as you can see, the average chance of doing this is the fifth power of one-half, or one in thirty-two. Whereas the chance of getting killed instead is the complement, close to certainty.
Dave thanked his mentor while his skin crawled and his brain went whir-click as it considered ways to avoid this honor without giving up pay-and-a-half and the comfort of sitting down.
There were other disadvantages to being a fighter pilot besides the prime hazard of getting your a.s.s shot off by some stranger. Fighter pilots flew in one-man kites and did their own navigation-without computers, homing devices, or anything that would be taken for granted today-or even later that century. The method used was called "dead reckoning," because, if you didn"t reckon it correctly, you were dead-since Navy flying was done over water, from a small floating aerodrome, with a margin of safety in fuel for a fighter plane of only minutes. Add to this the fact that a fighter pilot in combat had to choose between doing navigation or giving singleminded attention to attempting to kill a stranger before that stranger killed him. If he wanted to be an "Ace"-or even eat dinner that night-he must put first things first and worry about navigation later.
In addition to the chance of being lost at sea and drowned in a kite that was out of gas-did I say how these things were powered? The air screw was driven by an engine powered by a chemical exothermic reaction-oxidation of a hydrocarbon fluid called "gas," which it was not. If you think this unlikely, I a.s.sure you that it was unlikely even then. The method was woefully inefficient. A flier was not only likely to run out of gas with nothing around him but ocean, but also this temperamental engine often coughed and quit. Embarra.s.sing. Sometimes fatal.
The lesser drawbacks to being a fighter pilot were not all physical danger; they simply did not fit David"s master plan. Fighter pilots were a.s.signed to floating aerodromes, or carriers. In peacetime, which this nominally was, a flier did not work too hard nor stand many watches and spent much of his time ash.o.r.e at a land aerodrome even though he was carried on the muster rolls of a carrier ship-thereby credited with sea duty, necessary for promotion and pay.
But for several weeks each year a flier a.s.signed to a carrier ship would actually be be at sea, practicing mock warfare-which involved getting up an hour before dawn to warm those cantankerous engines and stand by ready to fly at the first hint of real or simulated danger. at sea, practicing mock warfare-which involved getting up an hour before dawn to warm those cantankerous engines and stand by ready to fly at the first hint of real or simulated danger.
David hated this-he would not willingly attend Judgment Day if it was held before noon.
There was another drawback: landing on these floating aerodromes. On land, David could land on a dime and give back change. But that depended on his own skill, highly developed because his own skin was at stake. But landing on a carrier depended on another pilot"s skill-and David held a dark opinion of entrusting his skin to the skill, good intentions, and alertness of someone else.
Ira, this is so unlike anything you are likely to have seen in your life that I am at loss. Consider your skyport here at New Rome: In landing, a ship is controlled from the ground-right? So it was with aeroplanes landing on carriers-but the a.n.a.logy breaks down because a landing on a carrier in those days used no instruments. None. I"m not fooling.
It was done by eye alone, just as a boy in a game of catch s.n.a.t.c.hes a ball out of the air-but David was the ball, and the skill used to catch him was not his own but that of a pilot standing on the carrier. David had to suppress his own skill, his own opinions, and place utter faith in the pilot on the carrier-anything less brought disaster.
David had always always followed his own opinion-against the whole world if necessary. To place that much faith in another man ran counter to his deepest emotions. A carrier landing was like baring his belly to a surgeon and saying, "Go ahead and cut"-when he was not sure that surgeon was competent to slice ham. Carrier landing came closer to causing David to give up pay-and-a-half and easy hours than any other aspect of flying, so torn was he by the necessity of accepting another pilot"s decision-and one not even sharing his danger, at that! followed his own opinion-against the whole world if necessary. To place that much faith in another man ran counter to his deepest emotions. A carrier landing was like baring his belly to a surgeon and saying, "Go ahead and cut"-when he was not sure that surgeon was competent to slice ham. Carrier landing came closer to causing David to give up pay-and-a-half and easy hours than any other aspect of flying, so torn was he by the necessity of accepting another pilot"s decision-and one not even sharing his danger, at that!
It took all his willpower to do it the first time, and it never became easy. But he learned one lesson that he never expected to learn-that is, that there were circ.u.mstances in which another man"s opinion was not only better than his own, but incomparably better.
You see-no, perhaps you don"t; I have not explained the circ.u.mstances. An aeroplane landed on a carrier in a controlled crash, through a hook in its tail catching a wire rope stretched across the top deck. But if the flier follows his own judgment based on experience in landing on a flying field, he is certain to crash into the stem of the ship-or, if he knows this and tries to allow for it, he will fly too high and miss the rope. Instead of a big flat field and plenty of room for minor mistakes, he has only a tiny "window" which he must hit precisely, neither right nor left, nor up nor down, nor too fast nor too slow. But he can"t see what he is doing well enough to judge these variables correctly.
(Later on, the process was made semiautomatic, then automatic, but when it was finally perfected, carriers for aeroplanes were obsolete-a capsule description of most human "progress": By the time you learn how, it"s too late.
(But it often turns out that what you have learned applies to some new problem. Or we would still be swinging from trees.) So the flier in the aeroplane must trust a pilot on deck who can see what is going on. He was called "the landing signal officer" and used wigwag flags to signal orders to the aeroplane"s pilot.
The first time David tried this unlikely stunt he chased around the sky three times for fresh approaches before he controlled his panic, quit trying to override the judgment of the LSO, and was allowed to land.
Only then did he discover how scared he was-his bladder cut loose.
That evening he was awarded a fancy certificate: the Royal Order of the Wet Diaper-signed by the LSO, endorsed by his squadron commander, witnessed by his squadron mates. It was a low point in his life, worse than any his plebe year, and it was little consolation that the order was awarded so frequently that certificates were kept ready and waiting for each new group of still-damp fliers.
From then on he was letter-perfect in following orders of landing signal officers, obeying like a robot, emotions and judgment suppressed by a sort of autohypnosis. When it came time to qualify in night landings-much worse on the nerves as the pilot in the air couldn"t see worse on the nerves as the pilot in the air couldn"t see anything anything but lighted wands the LSO waves instead of flags-David landed perfectly on his first approach. but lighted wands the LSO waves instead of flags-David landed perfectly on his first approach.
David kept his mouth shut about his determination not to seek glory as a fighter pilot until he completed all requirements to make permanent his flying status. Then he put in a request for advanced training-in multiple-engine aircraft. This was embarra.s.sing, as his instructor who thought so well of his potential was now his squadron commander and it was necessary to submit this request through him. Once the letter started through the mill, he was called to his boss"s stateroom.
"Dave, what is this?"
"Just what it says, sir. I want to learn to fly the big ones."
"Are you out of your head? You"re a fighter pilot. Three months of this scouting squadron-one-quarter, so I can give you a good Fitness Report-and you do indeed leave for advanced training. As a fighter."
David didn"t answer.
His squadron commander persisted. "Dave, are you fretting over that silly "Diaper Diploma"? Half the pilots in the fleet have won it. h.e.l.l, man, I"ve got one myself. It didn"t hurt you with your shipmates; it just made you look human when you were beginning to suffer from too tight a halo."
David still did not comment.
"d.a.m.n it, don"t just stand there! Take this letter and tear it up. Then submit one for fighter training. I"ll let you go now, instead of waiting three months."
Dave stood mute. His boss looked at him and turned red, then said softly, "Maybe I was wrong. Maybe you don"t don"t have what it takes to be a fighter-Mister Lamb. That"s all. Dismissed." have what it takes to be a fighter-Mister Lamb. That"s all. Dismissed."
In the "big ones," the multiple-engine flying boats, David at last found his home. They were too big to fly from a carrier at sea; instead duty with them counted as sea duty, although in fact David almost always slept at home-his own bed, his own wife-save for an occasional night as duty officer when he slept at the base, and still less frequent occasions when the big boats flew at night. But they did not fly too often even in daylight and fine weather; they were expensive to fly, too expensive to risk, and the country was going through an economy wave. They flew with full crews-four or five for two-engine boats, more for four-engine boats, and often with pa.s.sengers to permit people to get flying time to qualify for that extra pay. All of this suited Dave-no more nonsense of trying to navigate while doing sixteen other things, no more relying on the judgment of a landing signal officer, no more depending on just one neurotic engine, no more worries about running out of gas. True, given a choice, he would always make every landing himself-but when he was ranked out of this by a senior pilot, he did not let his worry show and in time ceased to worry, as all big-boat pilots were careful and disposed to live a long time.
(Omitted) -years David spent comfortably while being promoted two ranks.
Then war broke out. There were always wars that century -but not always everywhere. This one included practically every nation on Earth. David took a dim view of war; in his opinion the purpose of a navy was to appear so fierce as to make it unnecessary to fight. But he was not asked, and it was too late to worry, too late to resign, nor was there anywhere to run. So he did not worry about what he could not help, which was good, as the war was long, bitter, and involved millions of deaths.
"Grandfather Lazarus, what did you do during this war?"
Me? I sold Liberty Bonds and made four-minute speeches and served both on a draft board and a rationing board and made other valuable contributions-until the President called me to Washington, and what I did then was hush-hush and you wouldn"t believe it if I told you. None of your lip, boy; I was telling you what David David did. did.
Ol" David was an authentic hero. He was cited for gallantry and awarded a decoration, one that figures into the rest of his story.
Dave had resigned himself to-or looked forward to, as may be-retiring at the rank of lieutenant commander, as there weren"t many billets higher than that in the flying boats. But the war jumped him to lieutenant commander in a matter of weeks, then to commander a year later, and finally to captain, four wide gold stripes, without facing a selection board, taking a promotion examination, or commanding a vessel. The war was using them up fast, and anyone not killed was promoted as long as he kept his nose clean.
Dave"s nose was clean. He spent part of the war patrolling his country"s coasts for enemy underwater vessels-"combat duty" by definition but hardly more dangerous than peacetime practice. He also spent a tour turning clerks and salesmen into fliers. He had one a.s.signment into a zone where actual fighting was going on, and there he won his medal. I don"t know the details, but "heroism" often consists in keeping your head in an emergency and doing the best you can with what you have instead of panicking and being shot in the tail. People who fight this way win more battles than do intentional heroes; a glory hound often throws away the lives of his mates as well as his own.
But to be officially a hero requires luck, too. It is not enough to do your job under fire exceptionally well; it is necessary that someone-as senior as possible-see what you do and write it up. Dave had that bit of luck and got his medal.
He finished the war in his nation"s capital, in the Naval Bureau of Aeronautics, in charge of development of patrol planes. Perhaps he did more good there than he did in combat, since he knew those multiple-engine craft as well as any man alive, and this job put him in position to cut out obsolete nonsense and push through some improvements. As may be, he finished the war at a desk, shuffling papers and sleeping at home.
Then the war ended.
Dave looked around and sized up the prospects. There were hundreds of Navy captains who, like himself, had been lieutenants only three years earlier. Since the peace was "forever," as politicians always insist, few would ever be promoted. Dave could see that he he would not be promoted; he had neither the seniority, the traditionally approved pattern of service, nor the right connections, political and social. would not be promoted; he had neither the seniority, the traditionally approved pattern of service, nor the right connections, political and social.
What he did have was almost twenty years" service, the minimum on which to retire at half pay. Or he could hang on until he was forced to retire through failure to be selected for admiral.
There was no need to decide at once; twenty-year retirement was a year or two off.
But he did retire almost at once-for medical reasons. The diagnosis was "psychosis situational," meaning that he went crazy on the job.
Ira, I don"t know how to evaluate this. Dave impressed me as one of the few completely sane men I ever knew. But I wasn"t there when he retired, and "psychosis situational" was the second commonest cause for medical retirement of naval officers in those days but-how could they tell? tell? Being crazy was no handicap to a naval officer, any more than it was to an author, a schoolteacher, a preacher, or several other esteemed occupations. As long as Dave showed up on time and signed paper work some clerk prepared and never talked back to his seniors, it would never show. I recall one naval officer who had an amazing collection of ladies" garters; he used to lock himself into his stateroom and examine them-and another one who did exactly the same with a collection of paper stickers used for postage. Which one was crazy? Or both? Or neither? Being crazy was no handicap to a naval officer, any more than it was to an author, a schoolteacher, a preacher, or several other esteemed occupations. As long as Dave showed up on time and signed paper work some clerk prepared and never talked back to his seniors, it would never show. I recall one naval officer who had an amazing collection of ladies" garters; he used to lock himself into his stateroom and examine them-and another one who did exactly the same with a collection of paper stickers used for postage. Which one was crazy? Or both? Or neither?
Another aspect of Dave"s retirement requires knowledge of the laws of the time. Retiring on twenty years" service paid half pay-subject to income tax which was heavy. Retiring for medical disability paid three-quarters three-quarters pay and was pay and was not not subject to income tax. subject to income tax.
I don"t know, I just don"t know. But the whole matter fits Dave"s talent for maximum results with minimum effort. Let"s stipulate that he was crazy-but was he crazy like a fox?
There were other features of his retirement. He judged correctly that he had no chance of being selected for admiral-but that citation for gallantry carried with it an honorary promotion on retirement-so Dave wound up the first man in his cla.s.s to become admiral, without ever commanding a ship much less a fleet-one of the youngest admirals in history, by his true age. I conjecture that this amused the farm boy who hated to plow behind a mule.
For at heart he was still a farm boy. There was another law for the benefit of veterans of that war, one intended to compensate lads who had had their educations interrupted by having to leave home to fight: subsidized education, one month for every month of wartime service.
This was intended for young conscripts, but there was nothing to keep a career officer from taking advantage of it; Dave could claim it and did. With three-quarters pay not subject to taxation, with the subsidy-also not taxable-of a married veteran going to school, Dave had about the income he had had on active duty. More, really, as he no longer had to buy pretty uniforms or keep up expensive social obligations. He could loaf and read books, dress as he pleased, and not worry about appearances. Sometimes he would stay up late and prove that there were more optimists playing poker than mathematicians. Then sleep late. For he never, never got up early.
Nor did he ever again go up in an aeroplane. Dave had never trusted flying machines; they were much too high in case they stalled. They had never been anything to him but a means to avoid something worse; once they had served his purpose, he put them aside as firmly as he had put aside fencing foils-and with no regrets in either case.
Soon he had another diploma, one which stated that he was a Bachelor of Science in agronomy-a "scientific" farmer.
This certificate, with the special preference extended to veterans, could have obtained him a civil service job, telling other people how to farm. Instead, he took some of the money that had piled up in the bank while he loafed in school and went way back into those hills he had left a quarter of a century earlier-and bought a farm. That is, he made a down payment, with mortgage on the balance through a government loan at a-subsidized, of course-very low rate of interest.
Did he work the farm? Let"s not be silly; Dave never took his hands out of his pockets. He made one crop with hired labor while he negotiated still another deal.
Ira, the completion of Dave"s grand plan involves one factor so unbelievable that I must ask you to take it on faith -it is too much to ask any rational man to understand it.
At that pause between wars, Earth held over two billion people-at least half on the verge of starvation. Nevertheless -and here is where I must ask you to believe that I was there and would not lie to you-despite this shortage of food which never got better other than temporarily and locally in all the years that followed, and could not, for reasons we need not go into-in spite of this disastrous shortage, the government of David"s country paid paid farmers not to grow food. farmers not to grow food.
Don"t shake your head; the ways of G.o.d and government and girls are all mysterious, and it is not given to mortal man to understand them. Never mind that you yourself are are a government; go home tonight and think about it-ask yourself if you know why you do what you do-and come back tomorrow and tell me. a government; go home tonight and think about it-ask yourself if you know why you do what you do-and come back tomorrow and tell me.
As may be-David never made but one crop. The following year his acreage was "soil-banked," and he received a fat check for not working it, which suited him just fine. Dave loved those hills, he had always been homesick for them; he had left them simply to avoid work. Now he was being paid not not to work in them-which suited him; he had never thought that their charms were enhanced by plowing and getting them all dusty. to work in them-which suited him; he had never thought that their charms were enhanced by plowing and getting them all dusty.
The "soil bank" payments took care of the mortgage, and his retired pay left a tidy sum over, so he hired a man to do those ch.o.r.es a farm requires even though it is not being worked for a crop-feed the chickens, milk a cow or two, tend a vegetable garden and some fruit trees, repair fences-while the hired man"s wife helped David"s wife with the house. For himself, David bought a hammock.
But David was not a harsh employer. He suspected that cows did not want to be waked at five in the morning any more than he did-and he undertook to find out.
He learned that cows would happily change their circadian to more reasonable hours, given the chance. They had to be milked twice a day; they were bred for that. But nine o"clock in the morning suited them for a first milking quite as well as five, as long as it was regular.
But it did not stay that way; Dave"s hired man had the nervous habit of work. To him there was something sinful in milking a cow that late. So David let him have his way, and hired man and cows went back to their old habits.
As for Dave, he strung that hammock between two shade trees and put a table by it to hold a frosty drink. He would get up in the morning when he woke, whether it was nine or noon, eat breakfast, then walk slowly to his hammock to rest up for lunch. The hardest work he did was endorsing checks for deposit, and, once a month, balancing his wife"s checkbook. He quit wearing shoes.
He did not take a newspaper or listen to radio; he figured that the Navy would let him know if another war broke out -and another did did break out about the time he started this routine. But the Navy had no need for retired admirals. Dave paid little attention to that war, it was depressing. Instead, he read everything the state library had on ancient Greece and bought books about it. It was a soothing subject, one he had always wanted to know more about. break out about the time he started this routine. But the Navy had no need for retired admirals. Dave paid little attention to that war, it was depressing. Instead, he read everything the state library had on ancient Greece and bought books about it. It was a soothing subject, one he had always wanted to know more about.
Each year, on Navy Day, he got all spruced up and dressed as an admiral, with all his medals, from the Good Conduct medal of an enlisted man to the one for bravery under fire that had made him an admiral-let his hired man drive him to the county seat and there addressed a luncheon of the Chamber of Commerce on some patriotic subject. Ira, I don"t know why he did this. Perhaps it was n.o.blesse oblige n.o.blesse oblige. Or it may have been his odd sense of humor. But each year they invited him, each year he accepted. His neighbors were proud of him; he was the epitome of Local Boy Makes Good-then comes home and lives as his neighbors lived. His success brought credit to them all. They liked it that he was still just "home folks"-and if they noticed that he never did a lick of work, n.o.body mentioned it.
I"ve skipped lightly over Dave"s career, Ira, had to. I haven"t mentioned the automatic pilot he thought up, then had developed years later when he was in a position to get such things done. Nor the overhaul he made of the duties of the crew of a flying boat-except to say now that it was to get more done with less effort while leaving the command pilot with nothing to do save to stay alert-or to snore on his copilot"s arm if the situation did not require his alertness. He made changes in instruments and controls, too, when at last he found himself in charge of development for all Navy patrol planes.
Let it go with this: I don"t think Dave thought of himself as an "efficiency expert" but every job he ever held he simplified. His successor always had less work to do than his predecessor.
That his successor usually reorganized the job again to make three times as much work-and require three times as many subordinates-says little about Dave"s oddity other than by contrast. Some people are ants by nature; they have have to work, even when it"s useless. Few people have a talent for constructive laziness. to work, even when it"s useless. Few people have a talent for constructive laziness.
So ends the Tale of the Man Who Was Too Lazy to Fail. Let"s leave him there, in his hammock under the shade trees. So far as I know, he is still there.
III.
Domestic Problems
"After more than two thousand years, Lazarus?"
"Why not, Ira? Dave was my age, near enough as not to matter. I"m still here."
"Yes, but-Was David Lamb a member of the Families? Under another name? There is no "Lamb" in the lists."
"I never asked, Ira. Nor did he ever offer me a pa.s.sword. In those days a member kept the fact to himself. Or, if he was, Dave might not have known it, since he left home so young and so abruptly. Back then a youngster wasn"t told until he or she was old enough to think about marriage. Eighteen for boys, usually, and sixteen for girls. Reminds me what a shock it was when I was told-at less than eighteen. By Gramp, because I was about to do something foolish. Son, one of the weirdest things about the human animal is that it grows up physically years and years before its brain grows up. I was seventeen, young and h.o.r.n.y and wanted to get married the worst way. Gramp took me out behind the barn and convinced me that it was indeed the worst way.
""Woodie," he said, "if you want to elope with this girl, n.o.body will stop you."
"I told him belligerently that n.o.body could stop me, because just over the state line I could swing it without my parents" consent.
""That"s what I"m telling you," he said. "n.o.body will stop you. But n.o.body will help you. Not your parents, nor your other grandparents-nor me. Not a one of us will even stake you to the price of a marriage license, much less help you support a wife. Not a dollar, Woodie, not a thin dime. If you don"t believe me, ask any of them."
"I said sullenly that I didn"t want any help.
"Gramp had bushy eyebrows, they shot up. "Well, well," he said. "Is she she going to support going to support you? you? Have you looked at the "Help Wanted" in the paper lately? If not, be sure to do so. And glance at the financial section while you"re about it; reading "Help Wanted" ads won"t take you more than thirty seconds." He added, "Oh, you can find a job peddling suck brooms from door to door on commission. Which will give you fresh air, healthy exercise, and an opportunity to demonstrate your charm, of which you don"t have much. But you won"t sell vacuum cleaners; n.o.body is buying." Have you looked at the "Help Wanted" in the paper lately? If not, be sure to do so. And glance at the financial section while you"re about it; reading "Help Wanted" ads won"t take you more than thirty seconds." He added, "Oh, you can find a job peddling suck brooms from door to door on commission. Which will give you fresh air, healthy exercise, and an opportunity to demonstrate your charm, of which you don"t have much. But you won"t sell vacuum cleaners; n.o.body is buying."
"Ira, I didn"t know what he was talking about. This was January, 1930. Does that date mean anything to you?"