everything I know, and I'm still learning."
It was loyal of me to say this, but loyalty is a quality that is highly regarded in corporate circles. A young man who turns on one boss may turn on another.
"He may be a leader of the old bar, but this is a new one. I don't really believe that men of his generation have what it takes for this kind of work. They're too bogged down in old ideas of politesse. Like that French officer in the history books who invited the enemy to fire first."
"I guess you have to have been born after World War II to be a real skunk."
My friend grunted appreciatively. "And I guess you need one to fight one."
I have been giving the most serious consideration to the question of whether or not Hoyt, Welles & Andrew is the right firm for me. I've been compiling statistics, breaking the partners down according to age, social background, religion, inherited wealth, law school, competence and legal specialty. I am troubled particularly by their ages. Nineteen out of thirty-six are over fifty and six are over sixty-five, which means that the next echelon will already be old by the time they take over management and will tend to lack the vitality and keenness needed to fight cases of increasing toughness and complexity. As a junior partner I could not reasonably expect to have a determinative share in executive decisions for at least a decade, by which time the firm might be down the drain. For we have seen grand old firms fall apart; it is a known thing.
And how do I feel as I write this? As I face the fact that I may have spent eight years of exhausting work in the wrong law firm? I think what I feel is actually a kind of excitement! What is it but a great challenge, and one that I already begin to make out a way of meeting? At least it is more interesting than much of what is contained in my daily grind. And suppose I lose? But I shall not lose.
The key to my solution is going to be Glenn Deane. Glenn is thirty-five and still an associate, though he has not yet been passed over, for he started late as a lawyer in the firm, having first been employed as an accountant who studied law at night. He is brilliantly able, but his partnership is not fully assured, as he is not considered "attractive" by some members of the firm. And indeed, he is
not
attractive. He is big, but on the stout side, and he is very plain, with a cauliflower nose, pushed a bit to the left, pockmarked cheeks, an oval chin and clever, mocking, small greenish-brown eyes under a high brow and balding dome. But he makes a bold and abrasive use of his unattractiveness, converting it into a kind of rough sex appeal. He knows when to wheedle and cajole and when to be brutal, even a bully. He is quite untrustworthy and capable of maudlin self-pity, but he can also be devilishly funny, and at weekend gatherings at his house in Chappaqua he is the life of the party, except to the occasional guest whom he tears to bits, egged on and applauded by his heavy, devoted wife, to whom he is periodically unfaithful. Glenn has worked with me in takeovers, and he is resourceful, imaginative and perfectly ready to use any weapon that he finds to hand. With someone of my "polish" to make up for his lack of it there is almost nowhere that he might not go. So we shall see.
He and his wife, Lynne, have asked us to spend Saturday night at their house in Chappaqua. They are giving a cocktail party and have suggested that we may not want to drive back to the city before Sunday morning. Norma has agreed to stay with the girls, and Alice has reluctantly consented. Reluctantly, because, understandably, she dislikes the Deanes. But she is always a good office wife.
Alice has been on a be-nice-to-hubby kick ever since the collapse of the Atlantic bid. I think that even she has been able to take in the gravity of one of these affairs when the client is dissatisfied, and she is troubled that she may have gone too far in criticizing my "aggressive" tactics. And of
Mari AKA Marianne Mancusi