John Fitzgerald GB 05 Great Bra

by Great Brain Reforms

  Mr. Pendleton thought about it for a moment. “I can’t think of any possible objection,” he said. “I would, of course, have to get President Hollingsworth’s approval. And I would have to be certain that the money to pay for the stock was on deposit in your bank.”

  “I see your point,” Mr. Whitlock said. “Some people might say they want to buy shares and then change their minds at the last moment. But I can set up a special account in the bank to handle it.”

  Mr. Forester finally finished the haircut and left the suite with the first gratuity of his life. Mr. Pendleton gave him a fifty-cent tip.

  “Now, gentlemen,” Mr. Pendleton said, after putting on his frock coat and removing a business card from his wallet. He handed it to Mr. Whitlock. “Send me a telegram to our Salt Lake City branch office certifying you have the cash in a special account to purchase a hundred shares of stock.”

  “What if we want to purchase more than a hundred shares?” Mr. Whitlock asked.

  “Let me know how many shares you want to purchase in the telegram,” Mr. Pendleton said. “I will then take it up with Mr. Hollingsworth. But you do understand that the stock must be purchased in blocks of one hundred

  shares. And Mr. Fitzgerald, please don’t print anything about this in your newspaper or notify the Salt Lake City papers. If it became known that our company was permitting the citizens of Adenville to buy the stock at forty-five dollars a share, we would be deluged with demands from investors to sell them stock at the same price.”

  Papa was certainly excited when he came home that evening. Before supper, during supper, and after supper, he talked about his visit with Mr. Pendleton.

  Mamma let Papa ramble on until he said he was go-ing to mortgage the house to buy stock.

  “You will do no such thing,” she said. “There are enough of the worthless stocks you’ve bought in a trunk in the attic to paper the walls of this parlor.”

  “But those were high-risk stocks, Tena,” Papa protested, “with no guarantee that the companies would find gold or silver or oil on the property. This is a company that manufactures lye, soap, and Epsom salts.”

  “I have never seen the name Alkali Products Incorporated on any I’ve bought,” Mamma said.

  “That is because their market is in the central states,” Papa said.

  They were still arguing about it when the time came for Frankie and me to go to bed. Papa was a good talker but I knew Mamma would never let him mortgage the house. I stayed awake until Tom came up at nine.

  “Papa could make us rich,” I said, “if Mamma let him mortgage the house.”

  “Mamma knows that Papa doesn’t know beans about stock,” Tom said. “If Mr. Whitlock is going to invest, I just might buy a share of stock myself. I’m not a fellow

  who passes up a chance to almost double his money in six months. But I am also not a fellow who puts up forty-five dollars without knowing a lot more about Alkali Products

  Incorporated.”

  The next morning Tom went for a ride on Sweyn’s mustang, Dusty. That afternoon he went to the post office to mail two letters and a mysterious package. I asked him what it was all about.

  “Just protecting my forty-five dollars,” he said, and that was all 1 could get out of him.

  Mr. Forester didn’t waste any time telling people what he had heard in the hotel suite. Everybody who could scrape up forty-five dollars or more was demanding that Mr. Whitlock let them buy shares of stock. The banker had his bookkeeper, Frank Collopy, record how many shares each person wanted to buy and made them deposit the money in the special account. Papa got a loan on the Advocate building to buy twenty shares of stock. Tom took forty-five dollars from his bank account to buy one share. The total amount of money deposited in the special account was enough to buy two hundred and twenty-one shares. Mr, Whitlock himself said he would purchase seventy-nine shares to bring the total up to three hundred.

  He sent a telegram to Mr. Pendleton at the Salt Lake City branch office stating there was $13,500 in the special account—enough money to purchase three hundred shares. He received a telegram back stating that President Hollingsworth had approved the sale. Mr. Pendleton also re-quested that Mr. Whitlock mail him the name of each shareholder and the number of shares each person was buying. This was so the stock certificates could be issued

  in their names.

  Tom went to the post office and opened our box every day. Finally, on Saturday, he received a letter from a boy

  he knew at the academy who lived in Salt Lake City. The letter read:

  Dear Tom:

  1 went down to the Newman Building like you asked me to do. There was no Alkali Products Incorporated on the directory. I went up to the room number you gave me. It is just a place you can receive mail, telegrams, and phone calls by paying three dollars a month. Sure miss you and Tony and Jerry.

  Your Friend, Phil

  1 handed the letter back to Tom. “Does that make Mr. Pendleton a crook?” I asked.

  , “I’ll need the answer to my other letter before I can convince Papa or anyone of that.” Tom said.

  The other letter arrived on Monday. It was from the State Board of Agriculture and read:

  Dear Mr. Fitzgerald:

  Our department has made a chemical analysis of the alkali soil you sent to us. The soil is unsuitable for the following reasons. There is not enough so-dium hydroxide present to profitably manufacture lye or hard soap. There is not enough potassium hydroxide present to profitably manufacture soft soap. There is not enough magnesium sulfate present to profitably manufacture epsom salts. In short, this is a very poor grade of alkali soil for commercial purposes.

  Yours truly, Herbert Garrison

  “I guess this proves Mr. Pendleton is a crook,” Tom said. “Let’s go tell Papa.”

  We ran all the way to the Advocate office. Papa and Sweyn were both setting type.

  “Hold the front page for the biggest story of the year!” Tom shouted. “Mr. Pendleton is a confidence man.”

  Sweyn laughed a sort of dirty laugh. “It takes one to know one,” he said.

  “What nonsense is this?” Papa asked.

  “There is no nonsense about it,” Tom said. “I’ve got the proof that Mr. Pendleton is a crook.” He handed Papa the two letters.

  Papa read the letter from Tom’s friend first and then handed it back. “It is a common practice,” he said, “for a company to use a mailing and telephone service tem-porarily until they find a suitable location for a branch office.”

  “‘Read the other one,” Tom said. “I’ll bet that will convince you that Mr, Pendleton is a crook.”

  Papa read the letter from the department of agriculture. “Where did you get the sample of alkali soil you sent them?” he asked, as he handed the letter back to Tom.

  “About twenty feet from the edge,” Tom answered.

  “That explains it,” Papa said. “In as large a deposit of alkali soil as Alkali Flats, the chemical content is going to vary. And it stands to reason that the closer you get to the edge, the less alkali in the soil. That is why Mr. Cummings took samples in twelve different places.”

  “Then you don’t believe Mr. Pendleton is a crook?” Tom asked, looking as flabbergasted as a rooster that has just laid an egg.

  “I know you meant well, T. D.,” Papa said, “but

  please leave such business matters to me. Mr. Pendleton and the president of the company will arrive on the eleven o’clock train tomorrow morning. I don’t want you showing or mentioning those two letters to a soul. I will not permit

  you to start an ugly rumor that might embarrass these two gentlemen.”

  Tom was plenty disgusted as we left the Advocate office. “It is easy to understand why Papa has a trunk filled with worthless stock in our attic,” he said. “But I’m not going to let anybody give me a worthless stock certificate for my forty-five dollars. I’m going to see Uncle Mark.”

  “Papa said not to tell a soul,” I said. “I can’t help what
Papa said,” Tom said. “Nobody is going to swindle me out of forty-five dollars.”

  We found Uncle Mark in his office, looking at wanted posters. The three jail cells were vacant.

  “I think Mr. Pendleton is a crook,” Tom said. “So do I,” Uncle Mark said, to our surprise. “But I’ve been through every wanted poster I have and can’t find anything on him or that Cummings fellow.”

  “I’ve got the evidence to prove it,” Tom said, handing Uncle Mark the two letters.

  Our uncle was smiling after he read the letters. “You and your great brain have saved the people in this town thousands of dollars,” he said. “I had a hunch Pendleton was a confidence man. Everything was just too pat—like having Mr. Forester give him a haircut in the suite. He knew the barber would tell everything he heard.”

  “Papa doesn’t believe the man is a crook,” Tom said.

  “I showed him the letters.” Then he explained what Papa had said.

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  Uncle Mark looked worried. “If you couldn’t convince your own father with this evidence,” he said, “I would have one devil of a time trying to convince other citizens who want to invest.”

  “You could, if you proved there was no such company,” Tom suggested.

  “I thought of checking that out with the Chicago police,” Uncle Mark said. “But I knew that if I were wrong, Nels Larson would tell it all over town and make me look like a fool. But with these two letters as evidence, I’m not worried about that any more.”

  We went with Uncle Mark to the depot where he sent a telegram to the chief of police in Chicago.

  “Now, Nels,” Uncle Mark said, “if you mention what is in that telegram or the reply I get, I am going to arrest you for revealing confidential information between two law enforcement officers. Is that understood?”

  Mr. Larson nodded his head. He knew my uncle never made idle threats.

  No reply had been received by the time the depot closed. The next morning Tom and I went to the depot. Uncle Mark was there waiting. It was almost ten o’clock before he got an answer to his telegram-He showed it to us. The telegram read:

  MARK TRAINOR … MARSHAL - . . ADENVILLE, UTAH. IN REPLY TO YOUR TELEGRAM. NO ALKALI PRODUCTS INCORPORATED LISTED IN TELEPHONE BOOK, CITY DIRECTORY, BUSINESS DIRECTORY. NO RECORD OF A LICENSE EVER GRANTED THIS COMPANY AT CITY HALL.

  J-J. MALONEY CHIEF OF POLICE

  QC

  I looked at Uncle Mark. “Are you going to arrest them when they get here on the eleven o’clock train?” I asked.

  “No, John,” he said. “We will let them sell their worthless stock first.”

  Calvin Whitlock, Papa, and all the leading citizens of Adenville were at the depot to meet the train. An elderly man wearing a plug hat, wing collar, cutaway coat, striped morning trousers, and pince-nez glasses got off the train with Mr, Pendleton and Mr. Cummings. Mr. Pendleton introduced the man as Frederick Ames Hollingsworth, the president of Alkali Products Incorporated. Then Mr. Hollingsworth made a short speech.

  “Citizens of Adenville,” he said in an oratorical voice, “it gives me great pleasure to permit some of you to become shareholders in our company-To those of you wanting a short-term gain, I can guarantee that the stock will be worth about seventy-five dollars a share in six months. To those of you wise enough to keep your stock, I can guarantee the market value will continue to increase and it will pay handsome dividends. My associates and I will register at the hotel and meet with Mr. Whitlock and the investors at the bank after lunch. Thank you.”

  There was applause and cheers from the crowd. When the three men arrived at the bank at one o’clock, a long line of investors was waiting. Mr. Pendleton was carrying a large briefcase. Mr. Whitlock had arranged two tables with chairs in the lobby of the bank. The three Alkali Products men sat at one table, Mr. Whitlock and his bookkeeper, Mr. Collopy, at the other table. Mr. Pendleton opened his brief case and removed a stack, of stock

  certificates. He handed them to Mr. Collopy. The bookkeeper added up the number of shares listed on the stock certificates on an adding machine. He told Mr. Whitlock that the total was three hundred shares. Then Mr. Whitlock went to the safe and returned with $13,500 to pay for the stock. Both Mr. Pendleton and Mr. Hollingsworth counted it. Then Mr. Pendleton put the money in the briefcase.

  The line of investors then began filing by the tables. Each gave his name and the number of shares he had bought. Mr. Collopy hunted through the stack of stock certificates until he found [he one belonging to each investor. Tom got in line and, after receiving his stock certificate, showed it to me. It was pretty fancy looking, with a green border. Tom’s name and the figure “one” in a space in one corner and the word “one” on a line below Tom’s name were all typed in. I thought for sure Uncle Mark would arrest the three men after everybody had received their stock certificates. But he didn’t.

  Mr. Hollingsworth went over to speak to Mr. Whitlock at his table.

  “We will, of course,” he said, “open a rather large checking account with you when we start operations here. Meanwhile, this money will be deposited in a Salt Lake City bank to pay for the construction of the spur track. I would appreciate it if you would keep the money in your vault overnight.”

  That last statement almost convinced me that Tom, Uncle Mark, and the chief of police of Chicago were all mistaken. I followed Uncle Mark and Tom outside.

  “Why didn’t you arrest them?” I asked.

  “I want them to walk out of the bank with the

  money,” Uncle Mark said. “That will give me an air-tight case.”

  Tom and I left Uncle Mark and started walking home.

  “If they are really crooks,” I said, “why didn’t they take the money and leave town?”

  “Because there isn’t a train out of here for Salt Lake City until tomorrow morning,” Tom said. “And they know that if they rented horses at the livery stable it would attract suspicion.”

  “Why did they leave the money in the bank?” I asked. “Were they afraid of being robbed?”

  “Heck, no,” Tom said. “What better way to convince people they are just who they represent themselves to be than by leaving the money in the bank? That way they could leave town tomorrow and nobody would suspect they were confidence men for days or even weeks.”

  The next morning Tom and I were at the bank be-fore it opened. Uncle Mark was already there. At five minutes to nine the three Alkali Products men arrived-

  “Good morning, Marshal,” Mr. Hollingsworth said. “What brings you here?”

  “I just want to see you gentlemen safely on the train with the money,” Uncle Mark said.

  “Very commendable,” Mr. Hollingsworth said.

  Mr. Whitlock and Mr. Collopy were inside the bank. They opened the doors at nine sharp. The safe was opened and the briefcase containing the money given to Mr. Pendleton. The three men walked out of the bank with Uncle Mark following them. He waited until they were on the wooden sidewalk and then drew his Colt .45 revolver and pointed it at their backs.

  “The jail is the other way, gentlemen,” Uncle Mark said. “Just turn around and keep your hands in plain sight.”

  The three confidence men decided to plead guilty instead of having a jury trial. Judge Potter sentenced them to five years in prison. Tom was the star witness. And boy, oh, boy, was The Great Brain disappointed when Uncle Mark told him there was no reward for discovering that the three Alkali Products men were confidence men. He explained that a criminal just about had to rob a bank, a train, a stagecoach, or rustle cattle or commit murder be-fore a reward was offered. But that disappointment was nothing compared to how Tom felt when he found that the citizens of Adenville weren’t going to give him a re-ward either.

  The only thing Tom got out of it was what they called a citation, which was issued by Mayor Whitlock and the town council-It was a letter signed by the mayor and city councilmen, praising Tom for meritorious achievement as a Junior Citizen of Adenville. I thought Tom was going c
razy when he framed the citation and hung it on the wall in our bedroom. The first thing he did when he got up ev-ery morning was to stand and stare at that citation.

  “You’ll go plumb loco staring at that thing,” I said one morning.

  “I want it where I can see it every day to remind me of something,” he said.

  “Like what?” I asked.

  “Yeah, what?” Frankie said.

  “To remind me never to use my great brain to save

  the citizens of this town,” Tom said, “unless they give me a cash reward in advance.”

  “I wonder why they didn’t give you a reward,” I said. “I wondered about it so much that I put my great brain to work on it,” Tom said. “I figure they knew if they did give me a reward that it would be the same as admitting a kid was a lot smarter than them. And that is one thing no grownup will ever admit.”

  I knew the real reason Tom had investigated Alkali Products Incorporated was to protect his own forty-five dollars. I was going to remind him of that but changed my mind and here is why. I knew his money-loving heart was breaking because he didn’t get a reward. I thought about my basketball and backstop and all the other things The Great Brain had swindled me out of. And I decided to let his money-loving heart go right on grieving. It would serve him right.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The Runaway

  FRANKIE HAD NEVER been punished by Papa and Mamma until right after the Alkali Flats swindle. I don’t know what got into him, but all of a sudden he became very mischievous. It began one evening during supper. Frankie liked jam on his bread instead of butter, Mamma had jelly on the table but no jam.

  “I want jam,” Frankie said.

  “I just might have gotten you some,” Mamma said, “if you had said please. Now you can either use butter or-jelly on your bread.”

  Frankie picked up the bowl of jelly and turned it upside down on the table. We all couldn’t have been more

  surprised if he had suddenly turned into a frog.

  “Just for that,” Mamma said, “there will be no dessert ‘for you tonight, young man.”