When she was gone, Baxter said, “I like to surround myself with pretty people. It’s absurd, I know, but I have to look at my staff for from eight to sixteen hours a day. Take your coffee.” He handed Larry a cup and then picked up his own cup of black coffee. “Toasted English? There’s some jam here.”
“Thanks,” Larry said. He walked to the desk, picked up one of the muffins and spread it with jam.
“Eloise objected at first. She didn’t see why every secretary or receptionist I hired had to be pretty. I explained to her that it was all her fault.”
“How so?”
“She’d set such a high aesthetic standard at home that she’d spoiled me!” Baxter began chuckling. “She’s an angel, that woman. I love her.” He chuckled again. “She’s used to pretty girls around the office now. In fact, I think it pleases her. It’s completely unfair to plain people, I know, and I’m certainly no paragon of beauty. But I like what it does for the office. It’s American to be beautiful. Does that make any sense? I think of America as strong bodies and straight legs and good teeth and suntans and quiet beauty. Not the Hollywood junk. So I feel more like a working American in an office which employs pretty girls as file clerks. My weakness,” Baxter said, smiling and shrugging. “Quiet beauty.”
Larry nodded and said nothing, but he thought of Maggie’s shrieking loveliness.
“About you,” Baxter said, spreading jam on one of the muffin halves. “What were your impressions of Hebbery?”
“He seemed like a nice person and a competent architect.”
“Are you reluctant to talk about him?”
Larry smiled. “To his employer? Yes.”
“He’s a good man within his own sphere,” Baxter said. “He’s in no danger of losing his job with us no matter what you say. Now, what did you think of him?”
“I imagine he was an honor student in a Connecticut high school,” Larry said. “He probably went on to Harvard, where he became a member of the chess team in his freshman year.” He thought for a moment. “He made Junior Phi Beta Kappa, and graduated cum laude.” Again he stopped, thinking, and then he nodded, his impression complete, and the words flowed from his mouth. “He doesn’t wear his Phi Bete key because he doesn’t like to show off, except at school functions where he feels it’s important. Actually, he always feels it’s important and will look back upon having made Phi Bete in his Junior year as one of the real achievements in his life. He copped a straight A average in every theory course he ever took, and excelled in draftsmanship. His planning problems were always turned in a week before the instructor’s deadline, spotlessly submitted, with no erasures. He should have gotten A’s but he didn’t because his spotless, exquisitely executed drawings somehow lacked imagination.”
“Go on,” Baxter said.
“He talks too much about how much he likes Puerto Rico. I think he really hates it. His wife certainly hates it. In early November, she was asking about Christmas in New York. But he filled me in beautifully on the problems I was to study, and he had the decency and good sense to know I’d work them out my own way in my own time. He was a cordial and gracious guide and host to us, but I wish his Spanish didn’t rely so heavily upon the single word bueno. That’s all I think about Frank Hebbery.”
Baxter nodded thoughtfully. Silently, he worded his next question, and then said, “What do you consider the architectural dangers of an unplanned but expanding community?”
“In brief? I’d say deterioration and obsolescence.”
“Have you ever done any city planning, Larry?”
“I began a job for a Long Island town but had to quit when they couldn’t appropriate the necessary funds.”
“Then you know what it entails?”
“Yes. I assume we’re discussing modern city planning and not the outmoded concept of the city beautiful?”
“That’s right.”
“Well, it’s a two-part project. The first part, and easily the most important, would be the study of sociological and economic data.”
“Such as what?”
“Population growth, industrial potential, natural resources, transportation facilities...”
Baxter nodded.
“And then, of course,” Larry said, “would come the actual physical planning of the environment.”
“By which you mean?”
“The physical structure. Details like how far a building will be set back from a road.”
“How long do you suppose it would take to work out a master plan for a place the size of Puerto Rico?”
“For the entire island, do you mean?”
“Yes.”
Larry was silently thoughtful. After a long while, he said, “Five years.”
“Oh, surely it could be done in much less time than that,” Baxter said.
“Not if it’s to be done well,” Larry answered. “Generic planning can’t be done overnight. An island-wide project would entail a study of each of your major cities with a view toward urban renewal or redevelopment. You’d have to plan new cities wherever the need is indicated, find ideal locations for residential growth and recreational spaces, industrial parks. You’d have to study your existing roads and then consult with highway engineers as part of the overall scheme of relating new transportation patterns with natural resources. And in addition to your master plan, you’d need a detailed study of at least one area. I don’t see how all that can be accomplished in less than five years.”
“Neither do I,” Baxter said promptly, and Larry realized he’d passed through a trap unharmed. “Do you think Hebbery is the man to handle such a development project?”
“No,” Larry answered without hesitation. “Why?”
“Because Baxter and Baxter has been asked to do the job.”
“Planning the island?”
“Planning all of it,” Baxter said, his eyes glowing. “You know what Sert’s done on a limited scale in Cuba and South America. Well, we’ve got an entire island to change from dirt and filth and disorganized growth to beauty and cleanliness and directed expansion! My God, where’s the challenge of planning Great Neck when you compare it to this? Can you visualize that island fifty years from now? Can you visualize what five years of intense planning can do for it?”
“It can make it a dream island,” Larry said.
“A reality, Larry.” He paused. “Will you be my assistant?”
All he could register for a moment was complete shock. Speechless, he stared at Baxter.
“Not an errand boy and bottle washer,” Baxter said. “A real assistant to work with me on every phase of the study and plan. What do you say?”
“I haven’t caught my breath yet!”
“Then catch it. I’m going down in September to enlarge the field office. I’m taking some of the New York staff with me. I’d like you and your family to come along.”
Sudden doubt crossed Larry’s face.
“What’s the trouble?” Baxter asked.
“Nothing. I’m... I’m flattered and... and overwhelmed. I...”
“You shouldn’t be. I think you’re talented and imaginative and blessed with foresight. You should have won first prize in 1952, and I’m offering you first prize now. The opportunity to accept an architectural challenge of scope and magnitude. Or would you prefer the obscurity of residential design for the rest of your life?”
“No, but...” Larry paused. “I’ll have to think about it.”
Baxter looked at him curiously. “I didn’t imagine I’d meet with any difficulty,” he said. “I honestly thought you’d leap at the opportunity. Must I convince you?”