As O'Brien put it privately, "No one who isn't directly intervened would ever believe the incredible duplication and futility. We who participate, and those who set up this crazy system, should be certified as lunatics.
It would be far cheaper for the public purse, and more efficient, if we were locked up in asylums."
The stenotypist was concluding, schemes-like this Tunipah deal-which will make huge profits for your company?"
“The objective of Tunipah," Humphrey responded, "is to provide service to our customers and the community generally, as we always have, by anticipating increased demands for electricity. Profit is secondary."
"But there will be profits," Birdsong persisted.
"Naturally. We are a public company with obligations to investors . . ."
"Big profits? Profits in the millions?"
"Because of the enormous size of the undertaking and the huge investment, there will be issues of stocks and bonds, which could not be sold to investors unless . . ."
Birdsong cut in sharply, "Answer 'yes' or 'no.' Will there be profits in the millions?"
The GSP & L chairman flushed. "Probably-yes."
Once more his tormentor rocked back and forth on his heels. "So we only have your word, Mr. Humphrey, about whether profits or service comes first-the word of a person who, if this monstrous Tunipah fraud is foisted on the public, stands to profit in every possible way."
"Objection," O'Brien said wearily. "That is not a question. It is a prejudicial, inflammatory, unsubstantiated statement."
"So many big words!-okay, I withdraw it," Birdsong volunteered before the commissioner could rule. He grinned. "I guess my honest feelings got the better of me."
O'Brien looked as if he would object again, then decided not.
As Birdsong and others were well aware, the last exchange would be in the record, despite withdrawal. Also, reporters at the press table had 1their heads down and were writing busily-something they were not doing earlier.
Still observing from his spectator's seat, Nim thought: No doubt Davey Birdsong's comments would be featured in reports next day because the p & lfp leader was, as usual, making colorful copy.
Among the press group Nim could see the black reporter, Nancy Molineaux.
She had been watching Birdsong intently, not writing but sitting upright and unmoving; the pose emphasized her high cheekbones, the handsome if forbidding face, her slim, willowy body. Her expression was thoughtful. Nim guessed that she too was appreciating Birdsong's performance.
Earlier today Ms. Molineaux and Nim had passed each other briefly outside the bearing room. When he nodded curtly she raised an eyebrow and gave him a mocking smile.
Birdsong resumed his questioning. "Tell me, Eric old pal . . . oops, pardon me!-Mister Humphrey-have you ever heard of conservation?"
"Of course."
"Are you aware there is a widespread belief that projects like Tunipah would not be needed if you people got behind conservation seriously? I mean, not just played at conservation in a token way, but sold it-with the same bard sell you're using right now in trying for permission to build more plants to make fatter and fatter profits?"
O'Brien was halfway to his feet when Humphrey said, "I'll answer that." the lawyer subsided.
"In the first place, at Golden State Power & Light we do not try to sell more electricity; we used to, but we haven't done that kind of selling in a long time. Instead we urge conservation-very seriously. But conservation, while helping, will never eliminate steady growth in electrical demand, which is why we require Tunipah."
Birdsong prompted, "And that's your opinion?"
"Naturally it's my opinion."
“The same kind of prejudiced opinion which asked us to believe you don't care whether Tunipah makes a profit or not?"
O'Brien objected. "That's a misrepresentation. The witness did not say he didn't care about profit."
"I'll concede that." Abruptly Birdsong swung to face O'Brien, his body seeming to expand as his voice rose. "We know all of you at Golden State care about profits-big, fat, gross, extortionate profits at the expense of small consumers, the decent working people of this state who pay their bills and will be stuck with the cost of Tunipah if . . ."
The remainder of the words were drowned in cheers, applause and foot-stomping from the spectators. amid it all, the commissioner banged his gavel, calling, "Order! Order!"
A man who had joined in the cheering and was seated next to Nim 1observed Nim's silence. He inquired belligerently, "Don't you care, buster?"
"Yes," Nim said. "I care."
Nim realized that if this were a regular court proceeding the chances were that Birdsong would long since have been cited for contempt. But he wouldn't be, now or later, because the courtroom setting was a facade.
Hearings of this kind were allowed, deliberately, to operate loosely with occasional disorders tolerated. Oscar O'Brien had explained the reasons at one of his advance briefings.
"Public commissions nowadays are seared shitless that if they don't allow all and sundry to have an unrestricted chance to say their piece, later there could be challenges in the courts on grounds that significant evidence was quashed. If that happened it might mean an overturned decision, undoing years of work because some nut was ordered to shut up or a minor argument disallowed. No one wants that-including us. So, by general consent, the demagogues and kooks et al are given their head along with all the time they want. It makes for dragged out bearings but in the end is probably shorter."
That, Nim knew, was why the experienced administrative law judge had shaken his head a few moments ago, advising the young commissioner not to disallow Birdsong's disputed question.
Something else O'Brien had explained was that lawyers like himself, who were intervened on behalf of applicants, raised fewer objections at this type of hearing than they would in court. "We save them for something that's outrageously wrong and ought to be corrected in the record." Nim suspected that O'Brien's objections during J. Eric Humphrey's cross-examination by Birdsong were mostly to mollify Humphrey, O'Brien's boss, who had been reluctant to make this appearance anyway.
Nim was sure that when his own turn came to testify and be cross-examined, O'Brien would leave him pretty much to fend for himself.
"Let's get back," Davey Birdsong was continuing, "to those huge profits we were talking about. Now take the effect on consumers' monthly bills. . ."
For another half hour the p & lfp leader continued his interrogation. He employed leading, loaded questions unsubstantiated by facts, interrupted by clowning, but hammering home his contention that profits from Tunipah would be excessive and were the major motivation. Nim conceded mentally: While the charge was false, the Goebbels-type repetition was effective.
Undoubtedly it would receive prominence in the media, and probably credence, which clearly was among Birdsong's objectives.
"Thank you, Mr. Humphrey," the commissioner said when the GSP & L chairman stepped down from the witness stand. Eric Humphrey nodded an acknowledgment, then departed with evident relief.
Two other GSP & L witnesses followed. Both were specialist engineers.
Their testimony and cross-examination were uneventful but occupied two full days, after which the hearing was adjourned until Monday of the following week. Nim, who would have the burden of presenting the main thrust of GSP & L's case, would be next on the witness stand when proceedings resumed.
9
Three weeks ago, when Ruth Goldman startled Nim by announcing her intention to leave home for a while, he considered it likely she would change her mind. However, Ruth hadn't. Now, on Friday evening, during the weekend recess of the Tunipah hearings, Nim found himself alone in their house, Leah and Benjy having been taken by Ruth to their grandparents across town before her departure. The arrangement was that both children would remain with the Neubergers until Ruth's return, whenever that might be.
Ruth had been vague about that, just as she had declined to say where she was going, or with whom. "Probably it will be two weeks, though it may be less or more," she had told Nim several days ago.
But there was nothing vague about her attitude toward him; it had been cool and definite. It was, he thought, as if she had reached decisions within herself and all that remained was to implement them. What the decisions were, and how he would be affected, Nim had no idea. At first be told himself he should care, but was saddened to find he didn't. At least, not much. That was why he had raised no protest when Ruth told him her plans were complete and she would be leaving at the end of the week.