Chapter 12: The Plumber

Kevin Riordan arrived in the late afternoon on the second Friday in October. He had thought about how to maximize the trip and planned it to arrive on the Columbus Day weekend, giving us two full days to work on the project. He had an open ticket for his return to South Carolina, so we had no deadline to worry about.

I had a sign with his name on it to identify me and he walked straight to me. He was tall, probably a couple of inches taller than I, but I doubted he weighed much more. He was lean and upright with a purposeful stride, gray hair in a short brush cut that I thought might be a carry-over from his Air Force days. Pale blue eyes that were clear and clothes that displayed a neat, careful appearance that spoke of discipline. I was impressed.

"Mister Smith, I presume," he smiled.

"John Smith," I acknowledged. "Please call me John."

"Kevin Riordan, and I'm Kevin to my friends and acquaintances."

"Any baggage to collect?" I asked.

"Nope, it's all in here," he said, lifting a single grip bag. "I prefer to travel light."

We walked to the short-term parking lot and he stopped cold when he saw my Buick sitting before him.

"Where the hell did you get this?" he said, walking around the big red machine in obvious awe.

"It was a gift from a very special lady whom you'll meet this weekend. It was her late husband's and had been in storage for a few years after he had passed away. I don't take it out very often, but my fiancée is using her car, so I brought it along for the short ride to our place. We live on the south side of the city and only a few minutes from here."

"You're a very lucky young man, John. I've been restoring a '53 Studebaker Starlight Coupe for the last five years. I still think it's one of the nicest looking cars ever built. But this is something, too. A whole different kind of statement."

"Well, climb in and we'll get going."

I parked the car in the garage and led Kevin into the house via the back door.

"This is quite a place. Not what I expected. There must be some history to it," he said, looking around the rooms.

"There is. Its foundation is from 1885, but the rest was built after the 1906 earthquake." I went on to give him the short version of the house's history.

"First the Buick, and now the house. That's quite an introduction to San Francisco," he said with a smile.

"Your first time here?" I asked.

"Hell, no. I lost count of the number of times I've been here, but only at the airport. I'd come in, do my job, go to the airport hotel, grab a flight the next morning and be on my way. I think I've actually been in the city proper maybe twice in twelve years."

"Well, since we aren't under that kind of time pressure, we'll make sure you get to see the place for a change. No point in coming all the way out here and not get a chance to play tourist."

He nodded, still examining the living and dining room. I took him up to his room and showed him the bathroom as well. He could use either the upstairs or downstairs bath. When I told him we used the upstairs, he chose the downstairs unit. I offered him an Anchor Steam and he accepted. It was something he remembered from his previous visits.

Georgette arrived home a few minutes later and I went through the introductions. She excused herself to go upstairs and change out of her business suit and into her more usual jeans and polo shirt. She seemed quite comfortable around Kevin.

Nan was joining us for dinner and arrived just after six.

"Nan, this is Kevin Riordan, the man I'm hoping can make my dream a reality. Kevin, Nanette desBiens is Georgette's grandmother on her mother's side."

"Just call me Nan like everyone else does, Kevin. I'm the next door neighbor on this side," she said pointing. My son and daughter-in-law live on the other side. Georgette's parents live next to me on the end of the house. I suppose John told you a little bit about the place?"

"Yes he did. It's a beautiful home, so perfectly kept. If this was in Charleston, the Preservation Society probably wouldn't let you mow the grass without a permit," he chuckled.

"Well, young man," Nan said, "it isn't much different here. We can't even paint the outside trim without permission."

Kevin was shaking his head. "It's been a long time since anyone called me 'young man, '" he chuckled.

"It's a matter of comparison," Nan replied without elaboration.

"You sound pretty young to me," Kevin said.

"Nice of you to say so, Kevin. I'll keep that in mind," she smiled.

"And that was your Buick that John was driving?"

"Yes ... that's 'Cleopatra's Barge' as my husband called it. What did you think of it?"

"I thought it was great. I'm restoring a '53 Studebaker myself. I wasn't born when those two cars were new. They are so distinctive looking though. Nothing like them any more. Like this house, they deserve to be preserved."

Georgette served dinner, a lasagna she'd prepared earlier and reheated, along with a tossed salad and some cheese bread. It was a good choice because nothing was left by the end of the meal.

"That was great, Georgette," Kevin said. "I'd forgotten what home cooked meals were like. I mostly buy heat-and-serve things at the grocery store, or eat out if I'm lazy."

"It doesn't seem to be doing you any harm," Nan said. "You're as lean as whippet."

"The luck of genetics, I think," he replied. "But thanks for the compliment."

I could see that Nan and Kevin had hit it off, although I was hard-pressed to think of anyone who didn't take an instant liking to her. Kevin was a laid-back sort of guy with some traces of his New England accent still present. I guessed his age at mid-to-late fifties and as Nan had observed, he appeared to be very fit. I had high hopes for his ability to help me.

After dinner, I gave Kevin the presentation on my laptop, hoping it would grab his interest. I shouldn't have worried. He was asking a number of questions as soon as I got to the guts of how the system was expected to work. Georgette was sitting in on the discussion and passed Kevin a pencil and notepad. He smiled his thanks and began to make a few notes.

When the presentation was done, I closed the laptop and we took a break. Kevin had been looking at his notes but saying nothing for the time being. When he did speak, he surprised me a bit.

"As you know, I'm not a certified engineer. What I can provide is experience in layout and compressing things into tight places. I won't have all the answers, but looking at what you've got here, I think I can help.

"I don't see any reason you can't make this work, John. The key will be to get the components isolated far enough away from each other that they don't interact. If it's going to be portable, it's going to get banged around. If it goes in the back of a pickup truck, vibration and general shaking will have to be taken into account in the design. Who knows what kind of handling it will get in the field."

"I had given that issue some thought," I said, "but not in enough detail to know how to handle it."

"Well, generally, you want to avoid rigid conduit and piping for anything other than short distances of a couple of inches. I have an acquaintance who is applying for a patent on a flexible fluid conduit that is made of woven stainless steel lined both sides with some type of neoprene-like substance. It's capable of very high pressure, is extremely durable, and still remains flexible in temperature extremes. The coupling he's designed is a modified, gimbaled sealed ball-and-socket design. The two together would permit tight, unusual angles and act like a shock absorber between fixed points here, here, and here," he said, pointing at the schematic.

"Is the product commercially available?" I asked.

"Not yet, but it will be by next year. In the meantime, I'm sure I can get enough material and couplings to use in your prototypes with his approval. He wants to see it in commercial applications and we could offer him some real-time testing."

"That sounds like a doable situation," I said. "Why don't you contact him and see how he responds?"

"I'll get on it in the morning," he promised.

I was wondering how I should propose compensation for Kevin and I decided to talk to Thomas about it. He was, after all, a venture capitalist and I suspect he had some ideas of what would be fair for both parties. I would defer discussion of the subject until I had talked to my future father-in-law.

The more I thought about my project, the more I realized how naïve I was and worse, inexperienced in business. I had this "great idea" that I wanted to exploit, but I really didn't have a good plan to convert the concept into reality. I needed professional help, and I was sure Thomas was the most likely source of that help.

"Well, it looks like you've got the cart before the horse on this one, John," Thomas said with a smile. "You've been so wrapped up in your development that you haven't paid much attention to the details of how you get it from drawing to commercial product. Coming to me is a good start because I can put you in touch with someone who knows exactly what's required.

"As far as potential partners or investors go, I can give you some suggestions based on my own experience. In the matter of your visitor, the best thing to do is for us to sit down with Kevin and figure what his expectations are and see if we can make them fit what you want."

"Thank you, Thomas," I sighed. "I guess I'm showing my age and inexperience. I'm so focused on getting the machine built, I'm not thinking about all the steps from start to finish. I welcome any help you can give me."

"I'm glad you feel that way, John. I do have a proposal that I would like to discuss with you. Nan and Georgette should be with us as well and I'd like to do this before you talk to Kevin about compensation."

"Sure, I'm fine with that," I said, wondering what he was thinking.

"How about we call a family meeting at three this afternoon? I'm sure Kevin will understand he wouldn't participate in that."

"Okay," I agreed. "How much time will we need?"

"An hour or so should be enough, then we can talk to Kevin."

At three that Saturday afternoon, Georgette, Nan, Thomas and I met in Thomas's home for our "family meeting."

"I've been giving this a lot of thought," Thomas began, "and I want to put a proposal forward to you, John, that involves the development of your machine. I don't know if you've thought about how much money it will take to produce a prototype and put it through the necessary testing. Even without any failures or redesign problems, I can't see it being any less than $250,000. Most likely it will be more. Are you prepared for those kinds of costs?"