The Daily Novel

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

It has come to our attention that A.J. Mendelson, Postmaster of Bernadotte for these past seventeen years, has been hospitalized in Dickenson with an unspecified illness. We offer our best wishes for a speedy recovery. In the interim, Gustav Martin, postal clerk, will assume Mr. Mendelson’s duties.

Alan wrote that the same day he told me that he was going to sell his newspaper.

“Alan, don’t you think you should wait until some of these dividends start coming in? What’s the rush?”

“Look at you. You put up your restaurant for sale, and, from what I understand, you practically have it sold already.”

“That’s different. If I didn’t sell the restaurant, I’d have no money to invest.”

“You don’t understand, Johnny. It will probably take me years to sell the newspaper. It’s not like selling a restaurant. Everyone who can cook wants to own a restaurant. Very few people want to own a newspaper.”

“What are you going to do after you sell it?”

“Well, don’t you tell anyone, but I got my eyes on the Devil’s Lake Journal. It’s a daily, and I heard it’s for sale.”

“It’s got to be enough work just writing all this stuff for a weekly newspaper. How are you possibly going to be able to keep up all this writing for a daily?”

“They got four reporters, Johnny. You get all this wire-service stuff for national news. You got people who sell advertising, and people who do the printing. I’d get to write whenever I felt like it. I’d just have to manage the rest of the time.”

“You do have management skills.”

A new doctor moved to town in mid-October, and thank God he did. Saturday night, ten days before the election, Sweeney came by my house at midnight and pushed Duane toward my front door.

“God, what happened?”

“I couldn’t get him to leave the tavern, Johnny. I gave you my word. I hit him and broke his nose. When I give a person my word, it means something. I’ll have to cancel some future engagements. His face is going to look like hell for a while and no respectable couple would want to see something like that.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have hit him so hard. My shoulder hurts.”

I suppressed an urge to hit Duane in the mouth and break his jaw, because he looked like he was in so much pain.

The next Monday night we had another meeting at the bank. “I have some news,” said Bernie. “I was in contact with Harland Olson today. His law firm must be pretty sophisticated. They have a switchboard. ‘I will accept the collect call,’ says the operator. ‘What extension would you like?’ ‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘I’d like to talk to Harland Olson.’ ‘Is this a personal or a business matter?’‘Business.’ ‘What is the name of your business?’ ‘The Canadian Import Association, Incorporated.’ ‘Let me check with Mr. Olson.’

“Well, Harland was on the phone in short order. I told him that Bernadotte was committed to this project. He said good, but we got to put this meeting off a little bit. The election is coming up, and Al says that he’s got to be around to vote. He says that anyone who doesn’t vote isn’t doing his duty for his country. And Al’s daughter has strep throat. His son’s surgery at the Mayo Clinic has been rescheduled for early January.”

Bernie took out a gavel. “Alice is taking notes. I’m calling this meeting to order. The members of the Board of Directors are Pastor Holmquist, Carl Lundgren, Zach Klukas, and Gabe Murphy. Al gave me the authority to name the members of the board. As president of this corporation, I have the right to cast a vote to break a tie. If a member is missing, I also have the right to cast a vote to create a tie. If a motion is made, seconded, voted on, and ends in a tie, it does not pass.

“We will follow the Robert’s Rules of Order. I don’t have a copy of those rules handy, but I remember most of them from my college days. We don’t have any of the minutes of the last meeting to discuss, because we didn’t have a last meeting. Likewise, we don’t have any old business.

“We got only one item for New Business. We have to approve a resolution to incorporate.”

Pastor Holmquist stood up. “So moved,” he said.

“I need someone to second the motion.”

“What does that mean?” Zach asked.

“It means that you agree with the pastor that the motion should be adopted.”

Zach stood up. “I agree with the pastor that the motion should be adopted.”

“You can’t phrase it that way, according to Robert’s Rules of Order. You have to say, ‘I second the motion.’”

“I second the motion.”

“Good. Will all of the members of the Board of Directors stand?” They did. “All of you who are in favor of adopting this regulation raise your right hand.” They all did. “This resolution is adopted. Is there anything else?”

Zach stood up once again. “I think we should have a resolution that no Jews or Negroes or Italians or known homosexuals can own any shares of The Canadian Import Association, Incorporated.”

“Look around at the shareholders. Do you see anyone who fits that description?”

“No, but a couple of years from now, when we’re on the New York Stock Exchange, they might want to buy shares.”

“Well, that’s true. You’re absolutely right, Zach. But say three years from now our shares are trading for $230 a share.”

“I thought it would be up to $300 by that time.”

“Zach, I’m speaking hypothetically. They might be, but that’s not the point. Say you decide you don’t want to get dividends every quarter but you want to get all your money right away, and move to the French Riviera or Beverly Hills. Say some Italian offers you $290 a share instead of $230. Would you turn him down?”

“I hadn’t thought of that.”

God, I thought, I hope he doesn’t move to Beverly Hills. That would be too close to my new restaurant.

“I suggest we table this resolution.”

“What does that mean?” Zach asked.

“It means we’ll think about it some other time.”

“That seems reasonable.”

“One more item. The Board of Directors will hold a meeting Thursday evening at seven o’clock. This is a meeting only for the Board of Directors, not common shareholders. As you may know, we have pledges for shares far in excess of the money we need. We need a total of $20,030 in pledges. Wait, there will be incorporation costs, and miscellaneous expenses. Still, we’ve got too much money pledged, and some people, myself included, might have to reduce their investment amounts. If you have too much money invested in a venture like this, you dilute the value of your shares. We don’t want that to happen.

“We will make these adjustments in an equitable manner. After all, we have a man of the cloth on our board.

“Will someone make a motion to adjourn?”

“So moved,” said Carl Lundgren.

“I second the motion,” said Zach.

The Board of Directors voted. The meeting was adjourned. Bernie pounded his gavel. “One more thing,” he said. “I’ll let everyone know when our final meeting is, after I get the message from Harland and Al. Then we’ll get the show on the road.”

I walked out of that meeting wondering if I could vote in the general election. I’d voted twice before. I wondered if I should have registered to vote again.
“Those were good, orderly rules,” Sweeney said. “That Robert must have been a smart guy.”

I went back to the café, where Duane was working with his ugly nose. I had a piece of pie, and I thought that maybe it wasn’t so bad that Bernie hadn’t put me on the Board of Directors. I wouldn’t have to come back for all of these meetings. You go back from Los Angeles to North Dakota, it takes a lot of time and money.

Then Maggie told me, Friday afternoon, that she couldn’t get a loan. Bernie wouldn’t give it to her. That woman and her husband had 160 acres free and clear, and a house. Sure, times were tough in ’36, but any legitimate banker should know that their loan was more than covered.

Bernie was a bastard. We were right.