[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

plague him. Suppose Falck rebuffed his invitation? The thought gave him shivers. If only he could
tender the invitation while under telagog control! But since Falck was his regular controller, he
could hardly work it that way. And, having promised Claire, he would have to go through with this
project.
Through Wednesday and Thursday, orientation continued at The
Garment Gazette. Ross read proof, helped Sharpe with makeup, and
wrote heads: AUSTRALIAN WOOL DOWN; FALL FASHIONS
FEATURE FUCHSIA; ILGWU ELECTS KATZ. Friday morning
Addison Sharpe said:
"We're sending you out this afternoon to interview Marcus Ballin."
"The Outstanding Knitwear man?"
"What about? Anything special?"
"That's what you're to find out. He called up to say he was planning something new in
shows. First he talked to Mr. Hoolihan, who got mad and passed the call on to me. Ballin asked if
we'd like to run a paragraph or two on this show, so I said I'd send a man.
Heffernan's out so you'll have to take care of it."
"I'll do my best," said Ross.
Sharpe said: "It's about time we ran a feature on Marcus anyway. Quite a versatile and
picturesque character."
"What's his specialty?"
"Oh, he plays the violin. He once went on an expedition he financed himself to find some
bug in South America. Take the portrait Leica along and give him the works. His place is at i~
West Thirty-seventh Street."
Ovid Ross telephoned the Telagog Company and made a luncheon date with Gilbert Falck.
During lunch he told what he knew of his impending ordeal. Falck found a spot on his schedule when
he could take charge of the interview.
Ross also screwed up his nerve to pass on Claire's proposal for the weekend to Falck, who
said:
"Thanks, rather. I shall be glad to. Shall we go in your car or mine?"
"Mine, since I made the invitation."
"Fine. I'll get a girl."
"Hey!" said Ross. "If you come along to Westchester you can't be in your booth controlling
me if I run into an embarrassing situation."
Falck raised his blond eyebrows. "What's embarrassing about a picnic with your best girl?"
"Oh, you know."
"No I don't, unless you tell me."
Ross twisted his fingers. "I don't know her awfully well, but I think she's-she's-nh-well,
I suppose you'd say I was nuts about her. And-and I always feel like I'm making a fool of myself."
Falck laughed. "Oh, that. Jerry Bundy's on Sunday, so I'll tell him to monitor you and be
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ready to take over."
Ross said: "You should call yourselves the John Alden Company." Falck smiled. "Bring on
your Priscilla, and we'll bundle her for you.',
They parted, and Ross plunged back into the swarming garment district. He killed time,
watching sweating shipping clerks push hand tmcks loaded with dresses, until his controller
returned to his booth and came on the hypospace. Then Ross sent in the signal.
Marcus Ballin (Outstanding Knitwear: sweaters, T-shirts, bathing suits) was a medium-sized
man with sparse gray hair and somewhat the air of one of the more amiable Roman emperors. Ovid
Ross soon learned that his trepidations about having the man insult him or clam up had been
needless. Marcus Ballin loved to talk, he was a fascinating talker, and best of all he loved
talking about himself.
Over the background noise of the knitting machines in the suite of lofts that comprised
his empire, Ballin, with eloquent gestures of his cigar, poured into Falck-Ross's ears the story
of his many activities. He told of his travels, his fun with his airplane and his violin, his
charitable and settlement work, until Ross, a prisoner for the nonce in his own skull, wondered
how this man of parts found time to be also one of the most successful garment manufacturers in
New York.
Faick-Ross said: "But, sir, how about that special show?"
"Oh, that." Ballin chuckled. "Just a little stunt to help my fall line. I'm putting on a
show for the buyers with a contest."
"A contest?" [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]