Recessional by James A. Michener
‘Do you happen to know what sort of society they are?’
‘Surely you’ve heard about their performance in the Montana case, the one where they were the force that kept that poor girl alive when her parents wanted to end her life?’
‘Was that the agency? They got a lot of publicity in that one.’
‘They’re very good at organizing publicity.’
‘How do you know so much about them, Mrs. Elmore?’
‘Many of us older people think of them as our protectors. Against being put to death before our time. Avaricious relatives wanting our money. Someone has to look after our rights.’
‘Have you any relatives who are—avaricious?’
‘Several in California. I wouldn’t leave them a nickel. I have my eye on missions to the Eskimos.’
‘Well, thank you for your interesting news,’ and he ushered her to the door, even though she had shown no sign of wanting to leave. She liked Zorn and appreciated an opportunity to talk with him on community matters, so as she left she said: ‘If I can be of any help on the food committee, let me know. My husband and I had a cordon bleu chef at our home in France and I remember a few things he taught me.’
When she was gone, Andy leaned back and studied the ceiling. It seemed that wherever he moved, whatever he did, he was catapulted into the middle of some medical problem that he would have been pleased to avoid. Now it sounded as if he would be called upon to defend the integrity of retirement centers, for he had no doubt that Hasslebrook, whoever he was, had been inserted into the Palms to spy upon operations in the health center. And he wondered whether he should have a discussion with the man right now, so that the battle lines in whatever struggle might ensue were understood. He was strongly inclined to react quickly and firmly, but first he would seek the guidance of Ken Krenek and Nora Varney, experienced hands who would be just as eager to protect the Palms as he was.
‘Now, I don’t want anyone to panic or jump the gun, but the Duchess told me that our Clarence Hasslebrook looks to be an agent of the Life Is Sacred movement out of Boston. He received in the mail today a large packet of what she suspects was printed material from his agency. What do we know about his group? What should we do about having him in our midst?’
Krenek was eager to speak: ‘Very powerful. Very persuasive. They publish good materials and seem to be growing in strength.’
‘What specifically might they do here at the Palms?’
‘They raised merry hell with the nursing homes in Texas. And I must say, some of them deserved it, and they were complimented for having done a public service. In some of their other interventions? Well, I got the idea they were interested mainly in publicity for their various causes.’
‘Which ones might apply to us? Why would he be here?’
‘They’re fierce opponents of anything in care for the aged that smacks of terminating a human life.’
Andy interrupted: ‘I’ve read somewhere they’re masters at using the courts—’
‘None better,’ Krenek said, ‘I’ve studied a couple of their cases in the newspapers, and their method is to tie you up. Positively hog-tie you, so you have to play by their rules.’
‘What would be your guess as to why he’s here?’
‘Obviously he wants to check us out, but it could well be that he’s chosen us because we’re part of Taggart’s chain. Put him down as an industrial spy.’
Andy considered this and said: ‘You may be right. Now, what do we know about this particular fellow? Let’s look at everything. Even little bits. Nora?’
‘The high school waitresses report he’s a bore. Sits there and never talks.’
‘How old is he?’
‘Mid-sixties?’ Nora guessed.
‘Ken, how was it exactly he came here?’
‘I handled the case. Woman lawyer from his firm in Boston took care of arrangements. She wanted it for one of their staff who lost his wife, kids all married.’
‘Kids?’
‘Yes. Six, as I recall. His financial condition we didn’t look into, since the law firm paid everything and the woman assured me he had small investments on the side. But I’m not so sure. We might want to bring in Chris Mallory. He took him shopping for a new suit, and his report of what happened is hilarious.’
‘In what way?’
‘Makes Hasslebrook a real dope. Highest he’d go for a sports coat, which he needed, was thirty-five dollars at Charley’s, that outlet in the Spanish quarter that specializes in factory seconds. So I judge he’s not loaded.’
‘What to do?’ Andy leaned back, looked over the heads of his assistants and for some moments contemplated this unwelcome development.
Krenek suddenly cried: ‘I think I have it! In that famous case in one of the western states, a representative of Life Is Sacred butted into a family problem. The parents were trying to exercise their brain-dead daughter’s wish expressed years before that she never be kept alive when meaningful life has vanished. And damned if he didn’t get a court order making him custodial guardian of the young woman, and he absolutely stopped the parents from doing what they had promised, to let the girl die.’ He paused dramatically, then said: ‘I’m sure I remember that agent’s name as Hasslebrook. If he did it out west, he can do it in Florida. Get a court order and take all our options away from us.’
Nora said: ‘Florida courts aren’t going to put up with that nonsense. Too many old people come here expecting protection,’ but Krenek said: ‘Trouble is, they might get the idea that Hasslebrook is protecting them. On paper his ideas look good, but they raise hell with private lives. Yes, now I remember. There was a two-hour television play on that western case. Pretty gruesome from our point of view.’
Andy, listening to this ominous news, concluded that Hasslebrook’s intrusion could mean only trouble, for him, for the Palms and maybe even for the Taggart interests. What kind of trouble remained to be defined, but Andy had a strong intuition that it would be best to have that definition take place right now. He sighed heavily: ‘To think I came down here to get away from this kind of legal nonsense.’
After a pause he placed both hands on his desk, pushed himself back and said: ‘Ken, go fetch him. We’d better find out up front.’
Krenek did not leap to the door. Instead he warned: ‘Andy, do not lose your temper with this man. You and I have seen only one aspect of the fellow, an aspect he’s carefully presented, the dumb boob. That he is not. Believe me, Andy, this man is dangerous—to you—to me—to the whole Taggart chain.’
‘You’ve convinced me of that, which is why I want to confront him now, at the start.’
‘Nora,’ Krenek asked, ‘what do you think?’ but before she could reply, Andy said quietly: ‘In a case like this, where we’re dealing with what looks like real danger, it’s what I think that matters. It’s my responsibility, and I’ve lived by the rule of meeting danger head-on.’ He laughed and added: ‘And look where it’s got me. Kicked out of Chicago and now maybe out of Tampa. But here goes. Fetch him, Ken.’
When Krenek brought Hasslebrook into the office, Andy moved forward to shake hands and said: ‘I’m sure you’ve met my nursing assistant, Mrs. Varney, and you met Mr. Krenek when you applied—’ In some embarrassment he corrected himself: ‘You’ve not met Krenek, have you? Your entry was arranged by a member of your staff in Boston. Well, this is Kenneth Krenek, and now if you’ll leave me with Mr. Hasslebrook we can go about our business.’ The dismissal was not well handled and everyone knew it, but the others filed out.
They were alone together for the first time: Clarence Hasslebrook, sixty-three years old, slightly overweight, slightly disheveled, and Andy Zorn, thirty-five years old, trim in his lightweight Florida summer suit, obviously able and eager to avoid trouble if possible. He proposed to find out.
‘One of our residents informed me this morning that when she went to get her mail she saw next to her package outside the post office door a large packet addressed to you, and she couldn
Hasslebrook leaned back, smiled and said: ‘So it was you who cut the corner of my package and sniffed inside. I suppose you know, Dr. Zorn, that you could go to jail for that?’
Zorn was stunned by the speed and daring that Hasslebrook showed in his willingness to engage his target frontally, but he did not flinch: ‘I assure you, as director of the Palms I’d never commit such an act. So let’s not start by making threats. What I’m entitled to know, as the man responsible for the management of this place, is whether you are an agent of Life Is Sacred, and if so, why you inserted yourself in here as a kind of spy. And most important of all, what specifically are you spying on?’
Hasslebrook smiled, then pointed out that Zorn had asked ‘three monumental questions,’ any one of which could be considered quite intrusive on Zorn’s part and something he was not obligated to answer.
Zorn broke into laughter, then said: ‘They told me you were a dullard. Couldn’t put three words together. Obviously not true. Actually, you’re too damned clever for your own good.’
‘Holy Cross, Boston Law and not particularly clever, but very determined.’
‘Help me—determined to do what?’
‘To check into the operations of a high-class nursing home.’
‘A phrase we never use.’
‘But the public does, the courts do. And believe me, Dr. Zorn, nursing homes bear looking into.’ Pausing just a moment, he asked: ‘Doctor Zorn? Are you in charge of medical services here? Are you the resident physician?’
Andy smiled: ‘Come on, Mr. Hasslebrook, you know the answers to your questions better than I do. I am not licensed to practice here in Florida, and as you must surely know, retirement centers in this state rarely have resident physicians. We rely on those in the surrounding community.’
The two men had reached an impasse, each having established the fact that he was not going to be bullied by the other. Andy broke the silence: ‘All right, Mr. Hasslebrook, let’s get down to procedures. You are, I take it, an important member of your group?’
‘Not an officer. But a trusted member. And we’re determined to police nursing homes and places like them to ensure that old people are not being abused—and hastened to their deaths.’
‘That’s your job here?’
‘Yes, and in the other establishments in this community.’
‘Your committee is spending a lot of unnecessary money to lodge you in this place. Why not some less expensive boardinghouse?’
‘Our society has funds to spend on worthy purposes. They wanted an inside view of how a luxury place like this functions.’
‘I can show you right now, save you a lot of money.’
‘I don’t want to see your version of your behavior. I want to see our version of your misbehavior.’
‘I can’t persuade you to make your headquarters elsewhere? It’ll be embarrassing to have you here, embarrassing to both of us.’
‘If you even suggested throwing me out, there’d be a lawsuit, and a very ugly one indeed. And you would lose, because there’s magic in our name. Life Is Sacred. That’s not only true but it’s something the public responds to deeply. Dr. Zorn, do not, I beg you, pit yourself against me in a courtroom, because, I assure you, you’ll lose.’
Andy had heard threats like that before, and twice the lawyer making them had been right, he had lost. He felt himself being hemmed in, but since he’d been in that position before, he did not panic. Instead he asked: ‘So what is our relationship to be?’ and Hasslebrook replied: ‘An amiable one. I have my job to do, surveillance. You have yours, to protect the reputation of your establishment. If your people are not engaged in evil practices, you’ll have no problems with me, but if they are, you’ll have real problems.’ He stuck his hand out as if to signal that honorable warfare had begun, but the gesture was fruitless, because Andy, in a flush of anger, unwisely refused to take the hand. Hasslebrook, proving that he was more skilled in these matters than Andy, smiled, withdrew his hand and said pleasantly as he departed: ‘I believe you, Doctor. I’m satisfied that you did not pilfer my mail. But someone in your organization did, and that’s not a reassuring way for us to begin our association.’
In September, as World Series time approached, the men of the Palms received exciting news that gave everyone pleasure. On Long Island close to New York City a group of baseball fanatics made their living by trading in the little playing cards showing the notable big-league players dating back to the early 1900s. These cards, such as the extremely rare one of Honus Wagner, the Pittsburgh man who was the greatest third baseman of all time, brought fabulous prices, up in the hundred-thousand-dollar range, but later stars like Mickey Mantle also fetched high prices—say, in the forty-thousand-dollar class. Baseball cards were big business. This year the dealers in the Long Island district had organized what they ballyhooed as ‘the mother of all card conventions,’ a three-day extravaganza at which timeless heroes such as Stan Musial, Whitey Ford and Mickey Mantle would appear to autograph baseballs in person, often for as much as seven or eight dollars a signature. A lot of money changed hands at these affairs, and this one promised to be the gala of the past five years.
One of the organizing dealers had the excellent idea of inviting the only surviving hero of that 1929 World Series game in which the Philadelphia Athletics scored ten runs in one unbelievable inning. ‘His name,’ the clever manager told the committee, ‘is Buzz Bixby, and they tell me he’s living somewhere down in Florida, sharp as a button and loves to talk about that historic game.’ When others who had not been born when Bixby was a star player agreed that bringing him north might give a real boost to the convention, the principal organizer said: ‘It would cost us peanuts to fly him up here. We’d put him up in my brother’s motel, no charge, and we’d get a world of coverage in the sports section of the New York press, maybe television, too.’
So inquiry was made in Florida and the Long Island men learned that Buzz was living in the Palms. Commissioning a Florida dealer to speak for them, they authorized him to engineer a deal whereby Buzz would fly north for the three-day fiesta. When the dealer visited the Palms to extend the invitation, he also talked to Zorn and saw at once the reasonableness of the doctor’s request for taking precautions and faxed his Long Island colleagues:
Buzz Bixby in good health, has all his marbles. Loves to talk about the game. But at his age his people will not allow him to fly alone. Sensible and I agree. So you must provide two round-trips to La Guardia. If so, it’s a deal.
The Long Island men had already received ample publicity on the rumor that Buzz Bixby might attend. Realizing that if his visit fell apart over an extra airfare from Florida, their big venture might turn sour, they promptly authorized their Florida contact to provide the two round-trip tickets.
The problem then became who should take Buzz to Long Island and bring him safely back. Both Ken Krenek and Bedford Yancey pointed out that they had long been baseball addicts and would be pleased to spend the required five days in the New York area, and it proved difficult to make a choice between them. The impasse was resolved by Dr. Zorn, who said that Buzz ought to be attended not by someone who would merely carry his suitcase but by someone with medical experience. Krenek and Yancey bowed to authority and agreed that Andy should accompany the old man north to ensure he did not overextend himself at the three-day bash.
In the meantime Bixby was packing his bag, reviewing his set speech and chafing in his eagerness to get started on a trip that would again bring him into contact with fans and many of the great players who had come along in the years since 1929. Andy saw that the only thing that might cause Buzz trouble would be his enthusiastic desire to do too much, a fear that proved well founded in the days prior to departure when one organization after another, upon learning that Bixby would be attending the show, wanted to sign him up for an appearance at some function, o
On Thursday morning, four baseball enthusiasts from the Palms drove Bixby and his caretaker to the Tampa airport, where Buzz actually ran up the various ramps to reach the train that carried passengers to the planes. Settled into comfortable seats for the long flight to New York, Buzz and Andy went over the proposed schedule of obligations for Long Island, and the doctor was surprised to find that there were two schedules, one that he had approved with considerable care, after consultation with the managers of the convention, and one that Buzz had agreed to in his informal phone conversations with anyone who happened to call. Since there was little similarity between the two, Andy saw that accommodations would have to be made, giving priority to the important meetings. Buzz brushed such discussion aside: ‘We’ll do ’em all,’ and it was a standoff.
After settling into their motel, Andy and Buzz approached the immense industrial shed, a place larger than a football field, where some eighty card dealers had erected their stands. The hall contained so much clutter that Andy could scarcely see from one end to the other, for almost anything that could reasonably be related to baseball seemed to be for sale.
Pride of place, however, went to those stands whose occupants had baseball cards for sale or trade. There must have been four dozen big stalls, and whenever Andy and Bixby passed one of them the owners, who were busy arranging their goods for the opening the next day, guessed that the old man must be the immortal Buzz Bixby. They wanted Buzz’s assurance that he would later autograph some of the special cards they’d had printed up with his picture as he had appeared in the 1929 game. He said yes to everyone.