Braided Gold

by Glen Roylance

  It now fell to Leo to explain this awkward turn of events to Rex. Despite Leo’s finest diplomatic efforts, there was no way to obscure the obvious, nor was there any point in Rex’s pretending that the Foundation had misjudged the quality of his work. He was astute enough to know that for him, the project had now become a dead-end street. The bitter pill came, however, when Leo asked Paul Kirkham if he were interested in taking over the series. After briefly considering the invitation Paul accepted, with the provision that he be allowed to review all of the scripts and make any changes he felt appropriate.

  Now it was Paul who threw himself into the project. This he did with delight, and when the taping of the prototype was completed no one questioned that it would satisfy the most critical judge. He had redesigned the program format to involve a live studio audience, removing it from the sterile classroom setting of the earlier version. The production sparkled with spontaneity and humor which Paul summoned with ease. The final product carried the glitz and polish of a commercial television production while still satisfying the “higher objectives” of the public television medium. The Foundation accepted the prototype without reservation, immediately funding the entire series.

  For Paul, the ensuing months were incredibly busy. Script revision, rehearsals, and program taping made incessant demands – this, on top of his regular teaching and research schedule – but the rigor of the pace was to his liking. He had a voracious appetite for work. Later, as the initial productions began to air, he took enormous ego gratification in the finished product. The program’s viewer appeal, as evidenced by a flood of letters, was surprising even for N.E.T. and later, as the success of the series was fully established, their executive producer approached Leo with the suggestion that a follow-up series be designed. The Ford Foundation had authorized the production of an additional twenty-four programs. All of this rankled Rex, spawning jealousy and dislike for Paul that would eventually grow into something bitter and unrelenting.

  It was during the production of the second series that Leo hit upon an idea he easily sold to the University Administration. It envisioned a summer personal development conference at San Diego State where attendees from across the country could participate in a variety of workshops. He foresaw sessions on emotional and physical health, leisure-time and hobby skills, stress management, and personal creativity – all of this riding on the groundswell popularity of Paul’s television series. Leo had little question that such a conference would be well attended. Obviously, Paul would be asked to chair the event and be accorded broad exposure in the scheduled presentations.

  The Office of Conferences and Workshops immediately went to work on the idea and soon preliminary plans were in place. Instead of the campus academic setting, Shelter Island became the location of choice, a thin peninsula of land in the San Diego Bay affording a spectacular view of the San Diego skyline. Here, beautiful hotels and world-class restaurants would give the conference additional participant appeal. The Conference Division lost no time working out a package deal with the restaurateurs and hotel managers on Shelter Island. To these arrangements they added an array of vacation-fun options, and the conference began to look like a “must-do” event.

  Paul handpicked faculty specialists who had a reputation with students for that extra sparkle of showmanship in the classroom. Each was eager to participate. Not only did Leo take delight in all of this, but the Office of Economic Development saw an opportunity for considerable revenue from the conference. As had been the case with the Ford grant, the University now appropriated funds to Paul as an honorarium to assist him as he continued with conference preparations. This, together with funds associated with the TV series, came as a windfall to Paul, rapidly elevating his economic station beyond that enjoyed by most university professors. All of this infuriated Rex.

  In another area of the Life Sciences Building, Maureen Goodspeed sat in Paul’s office with a file in hand labeled, “Julian Fairclough.” She was the executive secretary for the Psychology Department, outranked only by Leo Dykeman’s private secretary in authority over the secretarial pool. She was a divorced woman in her early thirties, always fashion conscious and typically overdressed for daily secretarial duties. Maureen took some gratification from the knowledge that she was frequently a topic of conversation among male staff members.

  Although she made no effort to hide her interest in Paul as an eligible single man, the two of them had never seen each other privately. Paul had, however, cultivated a close friendship with her which, at times, he used to his advantage. This Maureen understood. In fact, she encouraged his periodic requests for personal favors.

  “I’ve gathered all kinds of stuff for you,” she said, very much aware of her obvious competence. She sat with her long legs crossed, exhibiting that cool, slightly suggestive poise that had become her trademark in the Psychology Department. Her dark green pumps were stylish and matched the green, tailored business suit she wore. Her V-neck collar was accented with an attractively pleated yellow scarf, and her perfectly manicured and colored fingernails raised the obvious question: How does anyone type with fingernails that long? Maureen brushed her long chestnut hair back over her shoulder, then opened the folder and began to sift through its contents.

  “There are photocopies here of several newspaper articles I thought you might find interesting, also transcripts of academic class records from UCLA and Stanford. I’ve also compiled several pages of notes from telephone conversations about Mr. Fairclough.”

  “As always, picture perfect efficiency,” said Paul with an approving smile.

  “I can give you a quick summary of all of this if you would like.”

  “Yes, please do.”

  Maureen knew nothing about Paul’s uncomfortable exchange with Julian Fairclough, nor was she aware of his daughter’s recent death. The preparing of the Fairclough dossier was merely one of those many private assignments she periodically received from Paul. “This guy’s quite the man about town here in San Diego. Rumor has it that he may run for State Attorney General next year. He charges big bucks as a legal counselor and has clients standing in line for his services. Fairclough is a mean cookie in the courtroom. He’s in the history books!”

  Paul raised his eyebrows. “And what kind of history would that be?”

  “The largest payout on a class-action suit in the history of California. He represented customers of San Diego Gas and Electric in a suit on rate fraud. Apparently he was brilliant. The court awarded millions of dollars in damages. That’s the kind of stuff this Fairclough likes – you know, ‘public defender number one.’ He has a has a ‘Mr. Clean’ image and loves those cases where he can tug at a jury’s heartstrings. But his forte is medical malpractice stuff. He’s got half the doctors in San Diego County hiding from him.”

  Paul smiled at Maureen’s brashness, but what she said next sobered him as his thoughts were transported back to his visit with Jill Fairclough several weeks earlier.

  “Right now he’s riding an anti-abortion hobby horse. He’s nailed a dozen or so doctors to the wall in the last two years for malpractice involving abortions. He’s been doing it for years, but since the whole business has become such a hot potato politically people are looking to him as a knight in shining armor. He and his wife are on the lecture circuit. They do a lot of anti-abortion fund raisers and special seminars on family values.” Maureen paused in her matter-of-fact narration.

  Paul’s gaze was distant, and he seemed detached from what she was saying. “Have you heard enough?” she said, recapturing his attention.

  “I’m sorry, I was just thinking about some of the things you were saying. Go ahead, will you.”

  Returning to her notes, Maureen continued, “Fairclough has his own law firm. Following his graduation from Stanford Law School he came on board as an associate with an old established firm in San Diego: Stoddard, Briscoe and Associates. It appears that he was on a fast track from the very beginning and within a few years he and another memb
er of the firm broke away and formed their own organization, Fairclough Legal Services.

  “The man seems to be a part of the old California aristocracy. The family is worth a fortune. Two generations ago they started in the retail marketing business in the Los Angeles area and now own a chain of grocery stores up and down the coast as well as in Oregon and Washington. A branch of the family diversified into banking and has done very well in the savings and loan side of things.

  “The ‘bigwig’ of them all is Wallace Fairclough, Julian’s brother. He’s been in the newspaper business and about fifteen years ago moved in a big way into the broadcasting industry. Presently he’s a major stockholder in four or five television stations – that in addition to his control of key newspapers in Los Angeles, the Bay Area, and Fresno. As a matter of fact, Wallace Fairclough sits on the Board of Trustees for California state universities.

  “Evelyn Fairclough, Julian’s wife, is a socialite. She throws the best parties in town but only the social elite get invitations. She was a sorority girl at Stanford and apparently kept a fairly substantial bank account during those days, or so I was told by a sorority sister of hers. As the daughter of a prominent eye surgeon, she went off to school with Daddy’s good name and good money to open doors for her. She studied political science, of all things, and managed to wrangle an impressive internship at the U. S. embassy in Geneva, Switzerland, during her senior year. Apparently Julian, who had been dating her, tried to persuade her to stay in California where the two of them could be closer together, but in the absence of a proposal she left him to think things over while she was off to enjoy European social life. That forced Julian to show his hand, and the word is that he proposed in a red-hot long distance telephone call and set out for Geneva to marry her when she accepted. There was a hastily arranged but extravagant wedding in Geneva that brought both families with their fortunes together in a way that made the social columns at home as well as abroad.”

  Paul shook his head in disbelief. “How in the world did you manage to get a hold of all that information?”

  “There’s more in the folder,” said Maureen, pleased at having impressed Paul. “There’s enough there for an interesting evening’s reading. I just made a few phone calls, and once I’d found a few threads of information it didn’t take long. I told people I was doing research for a book on prominent social figures in Southern California. Everybody’s willing to help a writer. I also found a gold-mine of information at the San Diego Tribune. Their newspaper morgue is loaded with information about the Faircloughs. Not much dirt, but when you’ve got that much money you can hide it away or pay people to keep their mouths shut.”

  “You’re a cynic, Maureen, but you’re probably right. Everybody’s got skeletons in their closet, particularly people with that kind of money and power.”

  Maureen closed the folder and handed it to Paul. “Incidentally,” she said, “why all the interest in the Faircloughs?”

  Paul weighed the question cautiously. Then, speaking in a tone and manner that emphasized the importance of confidentiality, he gave vent to his agitated feelings. “This man has made some accusations about me. He seems to be aching for a scrap! I’m just getting prepared to defend myself if it becomes necessary.”

  “If it’s self-defense that concerns you,” said Maureen, with an air that suggested she, too, was about to share some privileged information, “you’d better start watching your back a little closer to home.”

  Paul registered surprise. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

  “Rex Hale has asked for a major block of time in this week’s staff meeting. I started preparing the agenda yesterday and he gave me four or five addendum pieces today – pithy statements about curriculum design. I’d say he is going to lambast your classroom approach.”

  Paul grinned mischievously at Maureen. “Any chance of my getting an early copy of that agenda?”

  Returning the smile, she handed a second folder to Paul. “It’s not complete yet, but all the stuff Rex gave me is there.”

  Paul’s surprise again gratified Maureen. “I assume there’ll be a little something extra in my next paycheck,” she said, teasingly.

  “You know, Maureen, I don’t even know what they pay you around here, but I’m sure it’s not enough.”

  As she was about to leave, Paul again caught her eye. “How about one other little favor?”

  “So who else do you want me to investigate?”

  “As a matter of fact there is someone else – my good friend, Rex.”

  “Oh, really!”

  “Take a look at his student records – cumulative enrollment, transfers, withdrawals – that sort of thing. Oh, and keep it confidential, would you?”

  “Any other requests?”

  Paul was silent for several moments, then spoke in a thoughtful manner. “Yes, there is something else you could do for me since you’re offering. There have been some developments making it necessary for me to contact one of my general psych students. Ballard is the name, Tony Ballard. I haven’t seen him in class for some time and well, there are just some things I need to discuss with him. Do you think you could check with the Registrar’s Office for his address and phone number, perhaps his class schedule for the semester as well?”

  “That’s easy enough. I’ll get back to you,” she said with a smile as she left Paul’s office. Little did she know how important a role Tony Ballard would ultimately play in the drama that was presently unfolding in Paul’s life.

  Paul leaned back in his chair and sat alone with his thoughts about Tony Ballard. Tony was probably the only person who knew the full story of his involvement with Jill Fairclough.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Paul’s thoughts continued to focus on Tony Ballard. It was going to be important to talk to him and to do so soon. In his mind he recreated past days – those days that had become the hinge whereon his life now began to turn. Tony had been there on the third row of Paul’s Psych 101 class, boyish in his appearance. As the second week of the semester commenced, Jill, an attractive young woman, was at his side, her oval face framed with auburn hair; her small frame seemed delicate and her manner projected refinement. Paul later discovered that Jill Fairclough had added the class to her schedule at Tony’s suggestion. “He’s one of the best teachers I have had,” Tony had told her. “It’s not just textbook stuff. He talks really straight about things.”

  Then came that day when Paul’s free-wheeling lecture diverted into the thorny subject of abortion and, as always, his cynical lampooning of contemporary morality took side roads that were discretely avoided in most public discourse. He vehemently referred to anti-abortion laws as archaic and unrealistic – laws that were in sore need of repeal. In the subsequent decade his inflammatory rhetoric would have been at home as everyday parlance, but as yet the subject was still regarded by many as forbidden territory.

  Paul was among those whose early voices sponsored an evolution of public opinion connecting the choice to have an abortion with women’s rights issues. “Any law that interferes with a woman’s freedom of action,” he had said, “or that requires her to face the consequences of an unwanted pregnancy in the name of morality is immoral in its own right. The rights of individual choice are natural rights and flow from a higher mandate than bigoted legislative statutes.”

  It was this kind of talk that opened a door to Jill; one she would have been reluctant to open for herself. In time she discussed things with Tony, whereupon he agreed to schedule a counseling appointment for her with Dr. Kirkham.

  On that day of crucial importance in her life her pretty face was tense with concern as she sat alongside Tony outside Paul’s office. The two of them made an attractive couple and any casual observer noticing them seated beside each other would have assumed them to be committed to each other in some stage of young love. In their case, however, such an assumption would have been entirely erroneous.

  True it was that Tony cared a great deal for Jill, having un
successfully sought to promote her romantic interest in him for several years. But, as of the present day, she continued to regard him as little more than a “tag-along.” For her he was merely a friend who could always be depended upon – someone who knew the ins and outs of her life and was eager to be a confidant – someone who was willing to lift her spirits at times of personal frustration, even when those frustrations involved a relationship with another man that had gone sour.

  For his part, Tony was willing to take whatever morsel of affection Jill was willing to offer him in exchange for his loving attention to her needs. He had always been awestruck by the prominence and affluence of Jill’s family, finding no small gratification in their willingness to let him “fit in.” When Tony happened to be in the Fairclough home at dinner time, there was always an extra place at the table for him. There was also warm recognition of his willingness to help Jill with homework assignments. Tony was bright, but he lacked self-confidence and frequently wondered if Jill made unfavorable comparisons between him and her father. Tony lamented the fact that he would never rise to the heights of a Julian Fairclough, who was recognized as one of the finest attorneys in Southern California. His reputation for magnificence in the courtroom cast him in a bigger-than-life role, not only in Tony’s eyes, but also among members of San Diego’s legal community.

  Though Tony appeared to be calm and self-possessed as he quietly sat next to Jill, he was actually in a state of inward agitation at the prospect of her approaching counseling session. During his lectures Paul had unwittingly put his finger on a problem that was of great mutual concern for the two of them. Jill was expecting a baby! For her this discovery had been devastating, causing a feeling of futility to settle in upon her. She had continued to go through the motions of attending college classes and completing homework assignments, but it all seemed like a pointless exercise in pretending – pretending that she would be able to finish the semester or that any of her immediate plans could really materialize after her baby’s birth.