She did not despise Nim Goldman. In fact-though the knowledge would have amazed Nim-she had come to like and admire him.
Goldman hated her guts, and Nancy knew it. He hated her straightforwardly, making no effort to conceal it. He hated her as a reporter and as a woman. Nancy was perfectly sure her color had nothing to do with Goldman's hatred, which would have been just as intense had she been white, yellow or a shade of purple. Where his hatred of Nancy Molineaux was concerned, Goldman was color-blind.
Which was as it should be. Ergo, Nancy respected him.
In a perverse way-which she recognized as perverse-she rather enjoyed arousing Goldman's anger. It was so goddam refreshing! just the same, enough was enough. Twice she had impaled him well and truly, but it wasn't fair to go on doing it. Besides, the son-of-a-bitch had guts and was honest, which was more than you could say for most of those sleazy pontificators at the bearing where Goldman had spoken his mind and afterward got gagged.
About that hearing, Nancy had written the story she had to because she prided herself in being-first and foremost-a good journalist. Which meant being ruthless, putting emotions, personal feelings, second. But none of it had stopped her feeling sorry for Goldman and mentally wishing him well.
If she ever got to know him better-which was unlikely-someday she might tell him all of that.
Meanwhile there was a certain logic and justice, Nancy Molineaux thought, in that having abandoned Goldman as a target, she had switched attention to Davey Birdsong.
Birdsong she most certainly did not admire, being certain-even at this early stage of her inquiries-that he was a phony and probably a crook.
She had begun, soon after the GSP & L shareholders' meeting, by quietly investigating Birdsong's p & lfp. That had taken several months because she worked in her spare time and there were some extended periods when she didn't have any. But results, while slow, were interesting.
Birdsong, Nancy learned, had founded p & lfp four years earlier, at a time when inflation, plus increased oil prices, had forced electricity and gas rates substantially higher. Without question, the rate increases caused hardship to lower- and middle-income families. Birdsong had proclaimed himself the people's champion.
His flamboyance earned him instant media attention and he capitalized on it by recruiting thousands of members into p & lfp. To accomplish this, Birdsong employed a small army of university students as canvassers and Nancy had managed to locate several-now ex-students -who had worked for him. All, without exception, were soured by the experience.
"We thought we were doing something noble, helping the underprivileged," one of the former students, an architect, told Nancy. "But we discovered what we were mostly doing was helping Davey Birdsong."
Her informant continued, "When we went out canvassing we were given petitions to take with us which Birdsong had had printed up. The petitions were addressed to the Governor, State Senate and House, the Public Utilities Commission . . . you name it. They urged 'reduced utility rates for bard-pressed residential users,' and we went door-to-door, asking people to sign. Hell!-who wouldn't sign that? just about everybody did."
Another ex-canvasser-a young woman who had consented to talk to Nancy at the same time-took up the story.
"As soon as we had a signature-not before-we were told to explain that organizing petitions cost money. So would everyone please help by donating three dollars to the campaign, which included a year's membership in p & lfp? By that time, the people we'd been talking to figured they owed us something for our trouble-it was smart psychology, Birdsong's good at that-and there were very few, even poor families, who didn't come through with the three bucks."
”There was nothing really dishonest, I guess," the young architect said, "unless you call collecting a whole lot more money than was needed to run p & lfp dishonest. But what really was cheating was what Birdsong did to the students who worked for him."
"Birdsong promised us, as wages," the young woman said, "one dollar out of every three collected. But he insisted all the money must go to him first-as be explained it-to be entered in the books, then we would be paid later. Well, it was later, much later. Even then we only got a fourth of what he'd promised-twenty-five cents instead of a dollar out of every three. We argued with him, of course, but all be would say was that we had misunderstood."
Nancy asked, "You didn't have anything in writing?"
"Nothing. We trusted him. After all, he was on the side of the poor against big business-or so we thought."
"Also," the architect added, "Birdsong was careful-as we realized later-to talk to each of us separately. That way . . . no witnesses. But if there was a misunderstanding, all of us made the same one."
“There was no misunderstanding," the young woman informant said.
"Birdsong is a con man."
Nancy Molineaux asked those two ex-canvassers and others for estimates of how much money was collected. In his own public statements, Birdsong had reported p & lfp as having twenty-five thousand members. But most whom Nancy talked to believed the real figure was substantially higher-probably thirty-five thousand. If so, and allowing for the amount paid out to canvassers, the first year's receipts of p & lfp were probably close to a hundred thousand dollars, mostly in cash.
"You're not kidding," the architect had said when informed of Nancy's estimate. "Birdsong has a profitable racket." He added ruefully, "Maybe I'm in the wrong one."
Something else Nancy discovered was that collection of money by p & lfp was continuing.
Davey Birdsong was still hiring university students-there was always a new generation which needed part-time work and money-and the objective was to get more p & lfp annual memberships, as well as have existing ones renewed. Apparently Birdsong was no longer cheating the students; probably he realized he couldn't get away with it indefinitely. But, for sure, a pot full of cash was flowing into p & lfp.
What did Birdsong do with it? There seemed no simple answer. True, he did provide an active, vocal opposition to Golden State Power & Light on several fronts-at times successfully-and many who belonged to p & lfp believed they were getting their money's worth. But Nancy questioned that.
With help from an accountant she had done the arithmetic and, even allowing for the most generous expenses and a personal salary for Birdsong, there was no way he could have spent more than half of what was coming in. So how about the remainder? the best guess was that Birdsong, who controlled p & lfp totally, was siphoning it off. Nancy couldn't prove it, though. Not yet.
Her accountant adviser said that eventually the Internal Revenue Service might demand an accounting from p & lfp and Birdsong. But the IRS, he pointed out, was notoriously understaffed. Therefore lots of so-called non-profit organizations were never audited and got away with financial skulduggery.
The accountant asked: Did Nancy want him to tip off the IRS confidentially?
Her emphatic answer: No. She wasn't ready to tip off anybody.
The accountant's services were available to Nancy because her father was an important client of his firm. The same applied to a lawyer often retained by Milo Molineaux, Inc., and Nancy took the ex-university students to him and had them swear out affidavits. They co-operated willingly.