She shook her head and smiled lazily. "Don't need to make anything, man.
You stuck your own ass in the blender. Man, A man! Wait till you see tomorrow's papers."
He didn't answer and left Ms. Molineaux still working on her notes, no doubt seeking the sharpest quotes with which to impale him. Nim was sure the bitch would slant her story to make him look as had as possible and she would enjoy it, he thought, even more than her report about the helicopter at Devil's Gate.
A sense of loneliness engulfed him as he left the bearing room alone.
Outside he was surprised to find several TV reporters with mini-cameras awaiting him. He had forgotten how fast the visual media, once tipped off, could cover a breaking story.
"Mr. Goldman," one of the TV men called out, "we heard about 1some things you said in there. Would you repeat them so we can have a story on the news tonight?"
For a second Nim hesitated. He didn't have to do it. Then he decided: He was in so much trouble already that nothing more which might be said or done could make things worse. So why the hell not?
"Okay," he responded, "here's the way it is." He began speaking forcefully, heatedly, once more as cameras rolled.
14
"From this moment on," J. Eric Humphrey said, his voice with a cutting edge like steel, "you will cease to be a spokesman for this company about anything. You will not appear on TV or radio. You will not give interviews to the press or respond to a reporter's question, even if asked the time of day. Is that clear?"
"Yes," Nim said, "it's clear."
The two faced each other, the chairman's desk between them. The setting was unusually formal since Humphrey had chosen not to use the more casual conference area where he and Nim normally had discussions.
It was the afternoon of the day following Nim's outhurst at the California Energy Commission bearing.
"As to public bearings," Humphrey went on, "you will, of course, no longer appear at any. Other arrangements will be made."
"If you want my resignation, Eric, you can have it."
Nim had been thinking about that possibility all day. His departure, he reasoned, might relieve GSP & L of some embarrassment, and be was aware of owing a loyalty to the utility which in the past had treated him well.
Also, from his own point of view be was not sure be wanted to continue working with some kind of stigma, expressed through a restriction of his activities. His pride was intervened there, and why not?
One thing Nim knew for sure: He would have no trouble getting a senior appointment elsewhere. Plenty of public utilities would jump at the chance of recruiting someone with his background and experience, as he had learned from job offers before now. On the other band, he was reluctant to leave California, which Nim, and a multitude of others, believed to be the most agreeable and exciting place in the world to live and work. Someone had said: If something happens good or bad-it happens in California first. Nim agreed wholeheartedly. There was also the problem of Ruth and Leah and Benjy. Would Ruth want to move-to Illinois, for example-the way things were between them? Probably not.
"No one said anything about reigning," Eric Humphrey acknowledged huffily.
Nim resisted an impulse to smile. This was not the moment. But be knew, without indulging in egotism, that he was valuable to the chairman in a host of ways, entirely apart from public appearances. His planning role was one. In fact, being a GSP & L policy spokesman had not been part of Nim's original duties, but had been added later and increased as time went by. In a way, Nim thought, he would be glad to be rid of the public aspect, so maybe he could put the pieces together and carry on. Anyway, he decided, for the moment he would do nothing rash.
"That is all for now," Humphrey said coldly, returning to papers he had been studying when Nim was summoned. It was clear that the chairman would need time to get over his personal displeasure.
* * *
Teresa Van Buren was waiting in Nim's office.
"I want you to know," the PR director said, "that I spent an hour with Eric this morning arguing against his decision not to let you loose in public anymore. At one point he got as angry with me as be is with you."
"Thanks, Tess." Nim dropped into a chair. He felt exhausted physically, as well as mentally.
"What truly sent our esteemed chairman up the wall, and made him un-persuadable, was your doing your thing on television after the bearing.
That really guaranteed maximum exposure." Van Buren chuckled. "If you want the truth, I don't object to that, though you could have been more tactful, then and at the hearing. But the main thing is, I think you'll be vindicated eventually."
"In the meantime," Nim said, "I'm gagged."
"Yes, and I'm afraid that's going to be known outside of here. Do you mind?" Without waiting for an answer, Van Buren produced a California Examiner. "Have you seen the afternoon paper?"
"I saw an early edition."
At lunchtime Nim had read a front-page Nancy Molineaux story which was headed:
Tirade by GSP & L's Goldman
Disrupts Energy Hearing
The report began:
An intemperate attack by Nimrod Goldman, a Golden State Power & Light vice president, on opposition witnesses and the California Energy Commission itself, created turmoil yesterday at a public hearing called to consider a proposed Dew generating plant at Tunipah.
A shocked Commissioner Hugh G. Forbes, who presided, later dubbed Goldman's remarks as "insulting and unacceptable" and said he will consider possible legal action.
The later Examiner edition which the PR chief had brought contained a new lead and heading:
GSP & L Disciplines Goldman
And Disavows His Outburst
Nimrod Goldman, former "fair-haired boy" at Golden State Power & Light, today stands in disgrace, his future with the giant utility uncertain because of a public temper tantrum yesterday. Meanwhile his GSP&L bosses have disassociated themselves from Goldman's vitriolic attack on . . .
And so on.
Van Buren said apologetically, “There was no way to stop the news getting out about your being cut off as a spokesman. If it hadn't come from my office-and, as it was, I only answered questions-someone else would have leaked it."
Nim nodded glumly. "I understand."
"By the way, don't take seriously any of that stuff about the commission taking action. I talked to our legal department and it's just hot air.
There's nothing they can do."
"Yes," he told her, "I already figured that."
"But Eric did insist on a repudiation statement. He's also writing a private letter of apology to the commission."
Nim sighed. He still did not regret having spoken out; be had thought about that, too, since yesterday. But it was depressing to be treated like an outcast by colleagues. It also seemed unfair that most press reports-including that of the morning Chronicle-West and other California papers-had focused on the sensational aspects of yesterday, glossing over or ignoring the serious points which Nim had made. Nor had Davey Birdsong's antics-the insults and provocation-been given more than the briefest mention, and even then not critically. The press, it seemed to Nim, operated on its own double standard. However, that was nothing new.
Van Buren glanced at the Examiner again. "Nancy made the most of it all, and has given you the hardest time; she goes for the jugular as a habit.
You two don't seem to like each other."
Nim said feelingly, "I'd gladly cut that bitch's heart out. If she had one."
The PR director frowned. "That's pretty strong, Nim." "Maybe. But it's how I feel." Nim thought: It was Nancy Molineaux's description,