Chapter 7: A Man's Work

April 1974

The phone call at his apartment surprised him. He had been back at his apartment for about ninety minutes. He was taking a break from finishing off the report on Fluid Systems that was due in a few days and was about to pop the top on a beer. Then it would be time to fix some dinner. The surprise phone call made him glad that hadn't quite gotten to it.

"Wow! That was fast. Something must be cooking."

He set down the phone and ran into his room to change back into his navy suit that he had worn to his interview earlier that day.

"What's going on?" Rich asked him.

"It's the guy from Douglas Chemical who I interviewed with this morning. He wants me to come back to campus to talk again right now."

"Jeez," Rich answered, "that doesn't happen too often."

"They want to see my work in progress for the Bromine Plant," Jim called out from the bedroom as he adjusted the knot on his tie. "What do you think..."

"He probably wants a ride to the airport," Rich laughed. "You gonna take him in the Rustmobile?"

Jim set about packing up his work papers.

"Get off it, Rich," he snapped.

"Hey, hey," Rich countered, "I was just trying to loosen you up. You look nervous."

"Sorry, Rich. I guess I am a little nervous."

"Well, stop being nervous. It's pretty clear that they liked what they saw this morning. So, relax!"

Jim presented himself at the placement office where he'd had his interview earlier that day. He had his arms full with a box that held several notebooks and rolls of engineering drawings.

"Didn't they tell you?" the receptionist said. "You're to meet them in Professor Stark's office."

Jim looked around. His advisor's office was in the building next door to the one he was in.

"Don't worry," the receptionist laughed. "I'll call over there and let them know that you're on the way."

A few minutes later Jim was balancing his box of materials in one hand and knocking on Professor Stark's office door with the other while he panted for breath. The man he'd met with, a guy by the name of Mr. Cutler, opened the door. He was about forty, had on a pin-striped suit. Jim remembered that he worked in the Personnel Department of Douglas Chemical at its Headquarters in Michigan.

"Hello, Jim. Thanks for coming back on such short notice. Sorry about the location mix-up."

Jim tried to perch the box of materials in his left hand so he could shake hands. Cutler laughed a little and slapped Jim on the back.

"Just set your materials on the table for right now."

Jim found the long table in the corner of the office and he had to admit that he was glad to put them down, even though he was in pretty good condition from his pole vault workouts. He looked up and saw another man seated in a chair alongside Professor Stark. Mr. Cutler introduced him to the man he didn't know.

It was a man named Gerald Tyler. He was in his fifties, wore a tweed sports coat with leather elbow patches and khaki slacks. His hair was thinning and had a slender build. He explained that he was an Engineering Supervisor at Douglas Chemical and worked in Michigan, just like Frank Cutler. Jim shook hands with Mr. Tyler and then turned to his professor.

"It's always good to see you, Professor Stark," Jim said to his mentor.

George Stark, nationally renowned, was the Senior Professor of Chemical Engineering at Campbell University. He was not the Department Chairman. He always said that he 'enjoyed his subject, not Administration'

He was about sixty, tall, thin and angular with piercing eyes that could look right through a student and see what was inside him. So, when a student was dealing with Professor Stark it was best to have nothing to hide.

"I've known George Stark for a lot of years," Mr. Tyler began. "He wants me to see your project and I see that you've brought it with you. Why don't we spread it out?"

Jim started unpacking the box. There was a lot of material. He was wondering whether to give it to them bit by bit or the highlights first.

"The project isn't quite done yet," Jim warned them. "Maybe if I just..."

"That's quite all right," Mr. Tyler said, "George tells me that you've got a lot done. Now, let's see what you've got."

Before Jim could say anything the older man was unrolling drawings and spreading open the binders. He seemed to know just the way Jim had set it up. He overlaid all the drawings over the top of each other in just the right order and as he thumbed through the sheaves of papers he could find each and every detail he was looking for in exactly the place Jim had organized them.

"I can see you're one of George Stark's students," he said as he looked at a data sheet. "Everything is right where it should be."

Professor Stark and Mr. Cutler stood to the side while Mr. Tyler bent over the material on the table. Jim stood at attention along side the senior engineer, waiting to be called upon. Every so often Tyler would ask him a question like, 'why did you come off this heat exchange with four inch piping' or 'how much amperage do the mixers on the reactors require'.

Jim knew he was lucky because he had the answers to each question.

"It's only a matter of time before he asks me one that I don't know."

But at the end he was able to field all of the questions and give good answers. When Mr. Tyler asked him what more he was going to do to perfect the project, Jim got an affirmative nod from both Mr. Tyler and Professor Stark.

"Mostly," Jim said, "I'm going to make the piping more efficient and take a look at the sizing on the heat exchangers. I also want to try an idea to reuse the heat coming off the heat exchangers instead of venting it."

It was the true answer. He hadn't made it up.

Mr. Tyler closed up Jim's notebooks and rolled up his drawings. He put everything back in Jim's box. He walked over to Professor Stark's desk and took a chair. He motioned Jim to another chair nearby.

"Very credible project," the elder man said.

"Thank you, sir," Jim answered, 'I was..."

"Do you think that you would make a good engineer at Douglas Chemical Company?"

"Yes, sir," Jim said, "I do believe that."

Mr. Tyler clasped hands together and drew in a breath.

"What is it about you that would make it true?" he demanded.

Jim felt a shot go through him.

"Why indeed?"

Jim thought of the right words that he could say, of the platitudes about hard work and love of chemistry and math. He could recite his GPA, but he was sure that the men around him knew about that already. He thought about how Hildy was teaching him to skip all those little, harmless, polite, white lies. He decided to just let them have the truth, for better or worse.

"Because, sir, I've been very lucky. I've been fortunate to have the family that I do, a chance to study at this great school, with first-class classmates and be taught by men like Professor Stark. Now I have a chance to work at a great company like yours. Soon it's going to be up to me. I've got to take all these things that have been given to me and do my level best with them. That's my part to play and that's what I will do."

"You were just lucky? You didn't have anything to do with it, at all?" Mr. Tyler asked.

"Sure, I worked hard—but that's hardly too much to ask," Jim answered.

The three older men looked at one another.

Mr. Tyler stood up and Jim did, too.

"Thank you for coming to see us, Mr. Connolly. We'll be in touch with you soon."

Jim was passing by Prof. Stark's office again the next day. His mentor saw him in a hallway and asked him to stop in.

"I hope you know that Douglas is going to give you an offer," he told Jim. "That was a heck of an accounting you gave of yourself yesterday."

Jim flushed while the professor's words sunk in. He thought it was a good interview, but one is never certain.

"Are you sure, Professor? I thought maybe they didn't like my answer to the last question. I should have been ready for the question, I suppose, but I wasn't. But what I said is the truth. It's all I can give them. But they sent me away right after I said it."

The professor shook his head.

"Frank, Gerry and I had dinner last night after you left. Gerry said your answers were so good that he sent you away so that you wouldn't have a chance to spoil your perfect record."

Jim let out a nervous laugh.

"You're kidding."

"I'm not kidding and Jerry liked your answer to the last question the best. I, personally, would have to agree with him."

"Sir, I don't know what to say."

"There isn't much to say, Jim. Just be patient and you should get some mail from them pretty soon. I'm not saying that you have to accept, but you've got to give this one a lot of thought. They're a premier company. I would say the best."

Professor Stark was thumbing some papers in a nervous way and Jim could tell he still had something else on his mind.

"I was wondering if you've given any more thought to staying on for the Master's Program next year. It's there if you want it. It would be up to you, of course."

Jim had already thought it over and was prepared with his answer.

"Professor, I'm very grateful. It's a tempting offer and my family would like me to stay. But, you see, I've got to get out there and begin earning my own way. I can't let my parents cough up any more money on my education and I've got a lot of loans. My car barely runs."

Professor Stark nodded that he understood.

"This development from Douglas makes it feel so close," he told Jim. "And it is, really. But, my offer still stands until you tell me officially that you're turning it down. At least, keep it in the back of your mind for a while."

The professor was right, of course. Jim always liked to visit him. He had a way of understanding his students and pushing them harder at the same time. Jim wondered what life would be like without Professor Stark's voice in his ear.

"Professor Stark, you've done a lot for me over these five years and..."

"It's my job, Jim, and doing it for you has been a pleasure. But, you have to think of yourself now. Whatever you decide, it has to be what you think is right for you."

The professor excused himself because he had a class scheduled. They shook hands and left the room together. Jim's day was over and he had a lot of things to think about. He decided to go back to his apartment and have a beer with Rich.

"I told you to stop worrying," Rich said to him as he tossed him a can of beer. "It seems to me that the more you worry about something the less there is to worry about. It looks like things are shaping up for you."