Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
_Fallout is, of course, always disastrous-- one way or another_
_JUNIOR ACHIEVEMENT_
_BY WILLIAM LEE_
ILLUSTRATED BY SCHOENHERR
"What would you think," I asked Marjorie over supper, "if I shouldundertake to lead a junior achievement group this summer?"
She pondered it while she went to the kitchen to bring in the dessert.It was dried apricot pie, and very tasty, I might add.
"Why, Donald," she said, "it could be quite interesting, if I understandwhat a junior achievement group is. What gave you the idea?"
"It wasn't my idea, really," I admitted. "Mr. McCormack called me to theoffice today, and told me that some of the children in the lower gradeswanted to start one. They need adult guidance of course, and one of thegroup suggested my name."
I should explain, perhaps, that I teach a course in general science inour Ridgeville Junior High School, and another in general physics in theSenior High School. It's a privilege which I'm sure many educators mustenvy, teaching in Ridgeville, for our new school is a fine one, and ouracademic standards are high. On the other hand, the fathers of most ofmy students work for the Commission and a constant awareness of theCommission and its work pervades the town. It is an uneasy privilegethen, at least sometimes, to teach my old-fashioned brand of science tothese children of a new age.
"That's very nice," said Marjorie. "What does a junior achievement groupdo?"
"It has the purpose," I told her, "of teaching the members somethingabout commerce and industry. They manufacture simple compositions likepolishing waxes and sell them from door-to-door. Some groups have builtup tidy little bank accounts which are available for later educationalexpenses."
"Gracious, you wouldn't have to sell from door-to-door, would you?"
"Of course not. I'd just tell the kids how to do it."
Marjorie put back her head and laughed, and I was forced to join her,for we both recognize that my understanding and "feel" for commercialmatters--if I may use that expression--is almost nonexistent.
"Oh, all right," I said, "laugh at my commercial aspirations. But don'tworry about it, really. Mr. McCormack said we could get Mr. Wells fromCommercial Department to help out if he was needed. There is oneproblem, though. Mr. McCormack is going to put up fifty dollars to buyany raw materials wanted and he rather suggested that I might advanceanother fifty. The question is, could we do it?"
Marjorie did mental arithmetic. "Yes," she said, "yes, if it's somethingyou'd like to do."
We've had to watch such things rather closely for the last ten--no,eleven years. Back in the old Ridgeville, fifty-odd miles to the south,we had our home almost paid for, when the accident occurred. It was inthe path of the heaviest fallout, and we couldn't have kept on livingthere even if the town had stayed. When Ridgeville moved to its presentsite, so, of course, did we, which meant starting mortgage payments allover again.
* * * * *
Thus it was that on a Wednesday morning about three weeks later, I wassitting at one end of a plank picnic table with five boys and girlslined up along the sides. This was to be our headquarters and factoryfor the summer--a roomy unused barn belonging to the parents of one ofthe group members, Tommy Miller.
"O.K.," I said, "let's relax. You don't need to treat me as a teacher,you know. I stopped being a school teacher when the final grades went inlast Friday. I'm on vacation now. My job here is only to advise, and I'mgoing to do that as little as possible. You're going to decide what todo, and if it's safe and legal and possible to do with the startingcapital we have, I'll go along with it and help in any way I can. Thisis your meeting."
Mr. McCormack had told me, and in some detail, about the youngsters I'dbe dealing with. The three who were sitting to my left were the ones whohad proposed the group in the first place.
Doris Enright was a grave young lady of ten years, who might, I thought,be quite a beauty in a few more years, but was at the moment ratherangular--all shoulders and elbows. Peter Cope, Jr. and Hilary Matlackwere skinny kids, too. The three were of an age and were all tall forten-year-olds.
I had the impression during that first meeting that they looked ratheralike, but this wasn't so. Their features were quite different. Perhapsfrom association, for they were close friends, they had just come tohave a certain similarity of restrained gesture and of modulated voice.And they were all tanned by sun and wind to a degree that made theireyes seem light and their teeth startlingly white.
The two on my right were cast in a different mold. Mary McCready was abig husky redhead of twelve, with a face full of freckles and aninfectious laugh, and Tommy Miller, a few months younger, was just anaverage, extroverted, well adjusted youngster, noisy and restless,tee-shirted and butch-barbered.
The group exchanged looks to see who would lead off, and Peter Copeseemed to be elected.
"Well, Mr. Henderson, a junior achievement group is a bunch of kids whoget together to manufacture and sell things, and maybe make some money."
"Is that what you want to do," I asked, "make money?"
"Why not?" Tommy asked. "There's something wrong with making money?"
"Well, sure, I suppose we want to," said Hilary. "We'll need some moneyto do the things we want to do later."
"And what sort of things would you like to make and sell?" I asked.
The usual products, of course, with these junior achievement efforts,are chemical specialties that can be made safely and that people willbuy and use without misgivings--solvent to free up rusty bolts, cleanerto remove road tar, mechanic's hand soap--that sort of thing. Mr.McCormack had told me, though, that I might find these youngsters a bitmore ambitious. "The Miller boy and Mary McCready," he had said, "haveexceptionally high IQ's--around one forty or one fifty. The other threeare hard to classify. They have some of the attributes of exceptionalpupils, but much of the time they seem to have little interest in theirstudies. The junior achievement idea has sparked their imaginations.Maybe it'll be just what they need."
Mary said, "Why don't we make a freckle remover? I'd be our firstcustomer."
* * *
"The thing to do," Tommy offered, "is to figure out what people inRidgeville want to buy, then sell it to them."
"I'd like to make something by powder metallurgy techniques," said Pete.He fixed me with a challenging eye. "You should be able to make ballbearings by molding, then densify them by electroplating."
"And all we'd need is a hydraulic press," I told him, "which, on aguess, might cost ten thousand dollars. Let's think of somethingeasier."
Pete mulled it over and nodded reluctantly. "Then maybe something in theelectronics field. A hi-fi sub-assembly of some kind."
"How about a new detergent?" Hilary put in.
"Like the liquid dishwashing detergents?" I asked.
He was scornful. "No, they're formulations--you know, mixtures. That'scookbook chemistry. I mean a brand new synthetic detergent. I've got anidea for one that ought to be good even in the hard water we've gotaround here."
"Well, now," I said, "organic synthesis sounds like another operationcalling for capital investment. If we should keep the achievement groupgoing for several summers, it might be possible later on to carry out asafe synthesis of some sort. You're Dr. Matlack's son, aren't you? Beendipping into your father's library?"
"Some," said Hilary, "and I've got a home laboratory."
"How about you, Doris?" I prompted. "Do you have a special field ofinterest?"
"No." She shook her head in mock despondency. "I'm not very technical.Just sort of miscellaneous. But if the gro
up wanted to raise some mice,I'd be willing to turn over a project I've had going at home."
"You could sell mice?" Tommy demanded incredulously.
"Mice," I echoed, then sat back and thought about it. "Are they a purestrain? One of the recognized laboratory strains? Healthy mice of theright strain," I explained to Tommy, "might be sold to laboratories. Ihave an idea the Commission buys a supply every month."
"No," said Doris, "these aren't laboratory mice. They're fancy