Recessional

Mr. Cawthorn broke in: ‘So we have thirteen hundred acres of Tennessee’s best native woodland, no building of any kind. We’ll have a free hand.’

  Bingham made an interesting point: ‘Because we’re protected here on this side by the park, what we’ll do is leave undeveloped any of the acreage that touches anyone else’s. A wilderness, ideal for what we have in mind.’

  ‘Which is what?’ Andy asked, and Bingham flipped away the land plat to reveal an architect’s handsome rendition of a segment of the holding showing a nest of buildings at the top, a lake in the middle and two mountains at the bottom, a small one to the west, a big double-crested one on the east. Ample space was indicated everywhere. ‘A wilderness of beauty for everything we have in mind,’ Bingham said, ‘and enough room.’

  ‘But the buildings?’ Zorn asked, and Dr. Zembright said proudly: ‘A state-of-the-art retirement complex,’ and under the guidance of his forefinger the Zorns saw the outlines of an ideal center: the three major buildings were properly ranged in an arc; three walks were sketched in, a relatively short stroll down to one bank of the lake, a longer circuit of the lake, and a rugged trail of some distance up and down along the edges of the mountains; plus a feature that proved to Andy that the men had had good advice: in the flatlands near the three buildings was a series of detached private homes and duplexes for couples who wanted to live in their own homes as long as possible before entering the retirement condominiums.

  ‘Are you men prepared to build such an establishment?’

  ‘We’re already partially subscribed,’ Bingham said. ‘But we’d have been willing to put up the cash ourselves, if we had to.’

  Desmond, the owner of the major portion of the land, said: ‘More people than you’d think, Dr. Zorn, are seriously considering how they want to spend their golden years. When they heard what we were planning, they rushed to climb aboard. It’s a done deal.’

  ‘How big an investment?’

  ‘Twenty-five million.’

  ‘My God! Did I hear what I think I heard?’

  ‘Twenty-five big ones. And we’ve already started clearing the land.’

  ‘Wait! Wait!’ Betsy broke in. ‘If we’re to be in charge, and that seems to be the idea—’

  ‘We’re offering you the job,’ said Gilman, the fourth member of the team. ‘We checked him out. Chicago and Tampa. You’re the pair we want.’

  ‘If I’m a partner,’ Betsy said, ‘I want to have some say in which trees can be cut down and which can’t. Because the people we’d want to attract do not want to live removed from nature.’

  ‘You’ll have maybe ten thousand trees to choose from,’ the lawyer said. ‘This land is forested. Ask Desmond. He owns most of it.’

  ‘In most of the areas, Betsy, you can’t see the hills for the trees. We’ve knocked down trees only where the buildings go, and the parking.’

  ‘So,’ Mr. Cawthorn said, ‘will you two take the job?’

  ‘I’d want to see the land,’ Andy said, to which the men agreed. ‘And go over the plans for the three buildings with great care. Getting it right does make a difference.’

  ‘We’re suggesting,’ Dr. Zembright said, ‘that we fly up there right now. A phone call, and we’ll have cars waiting in Knoxville. That’s the nearest airport.’

  ‘Any good hospitals in Knoxville?’ Betsy asked, and Dr. Zembright assured her: ‘Some of the best. Less than an hour’s ride when you reach the good roads.’

  ‘And how long does that take?’

  ‘Maybe ten minutes,’ and she said: ‘Let’s go.’

  When they were aloft and well on their way, Mr. Cawthorn pointed out the land below and said: ‘I want you to realize the vast change in landscape and culture you’ll be experiencing. Down here in Florida the wonderful bodies of water, perfect climate, the palms, the trees low and sort of scrubby, the land flat as a table. Up where we’re heading, real mountains, real forests, snow in winter, rough rural life. Be prepared,’ and his daughter replied: ‘If I’ve just completed preparing myself for Montana, I’ll bet I can do the same for good old Tennessee.’

  They had now passed the Florida—Georgia border and were approaching North Carolina, for the men wanted the Zorns to appreciate the Great Smoky National Park, which soon lay below them. Now Mr. Desmond, the real estate man, made his comment: ‘This is gorgeous mountain country, not as high as the Rockies in Colorado, but infinitely older. Everything you see down there will be your backyard,’ and the Zorns had nothing to say, for this seemed exactly the kind of setting a retirement center ought to have as its backyard, but thoughtful Betsy was thinking: if, and it was a big if, there was a community nearby and reliable access to hospitals in the larger vicinity. She would reserve judgment.

  Her husband had anticipated her question, for he was asking Dr. Zembright: ‘You mean you will build in the wilderness, almost, and there would still be a chance to have some nearby village for the residents to visit, and hospitals reasonably accessible?’

  When they landed at Knoxville and hired two cars, they headed south for their land, and soon they were passing through a comfortable-looking little town of about three thousand with clean streets and a big, well-manicured central square with flower beds. ‘Our residents,’ Mr. Bingham pointed out, ‘will be able to walk into this town anytime they wish,’ and shortly thereafter the cars were picking their way along a dirt road, soon to be paved, leading to the grove of big trees behind which nestled the area in which the three buildings would be erected, hospital to the east, main residence in the center, and condominiums in the west.

  In the first moments Andy thought: They know what they’re doing. With the aid of her father, Betsy had moved to a spot from which she could see the lake: ‘It’s even bigger than the map showed,’ and then she gasped, for beyond it rose the three mountains, a small one to the west, a big double to the east, with the Great Smokies just beyond. Turning to kiss her father, she whispered: ‘This really is a paradise, nature at its most spectacular. The challenge would be to keep it that way.’

  At the end of the rather brief inspection of the land, with more than a thousand acres of forest still unseen, Andy made a bold suggestion: ‘Let’s stay over tonight and fly up to Chicago in the morning. That is, if we can be sure John Taggart will be available.’

  ‘Why Taggart,’ Mr. Cawthorn asked, ‘if you’ve just left him?’ and Andy explained: ‘Because he knows more about what makes or breaks a retirement area than anyone else in America,’ and the deal was done.

  In his office above Boul Mich, Taggart displayed his customary bluntness: ‘Great idea. Good location. And your man Zorn has proved himself, in one year, to be one of the best administrators of a retirement center in the United States. Now let’s see your plans.’

  When the blueprints were unfolded, he cheered the mountain setting: ‘Bold. That lake will be worth a million dollars. Can those little mountains be seen from the buildings?’ But he was less enthusiastic about other details: ‘I don’t like your proposed name, the Hills. It’s accurate, like the Palms, but we’ve found that we get an extra oomph if we insert an adjective. We tease the public into seeing the hills our way. An advertising advantage of no mean dimension. How about the Protective Hills? No, too wishy-washy. The Welcoming Hills? Doesn’t sound right. But you people give it some thought. Come up with a good adjective. It’ll help.’

  He was adamant that the large condominium buildings not carry the name Sunset. ‘Do not advertise this in any way as a last stop. Just don’t do it! You’ll scare people away,’ and with a bold pencil he scratched out Sunset and wrote in Sunrise. One of the men protested: ‘But the building lies to the west, toward the sunset,’ and Taggart snapped back: ‘You can’t change that but you don’t have to remind them of the end of the day. Always emphasize the beginning.’

  He commended them on having the hospital building detached from the other two and on naming it correctly, the Health Building. He also liked the concept of protected walkways connecting the buildings
: ‘Keep the various services accessible to one another, but never intrusive.’ No point was too trivial to merit his attention, and it was he who recommended that the three footpaths be differentiated: ‘The easy one close, let’s call it the Stroll. The longer one around the entire lake, the Walk. And this tough one along the mountains, the Hike. Believe me, people will enjoy the differentiation and take pride in trying the long job.’

  He approved the preliminary thinking and applauded the idea of having the nest of private homes off to the west: ‘They’ll be popular, you’ve probably sold some of them already,’ and Mr. Bingham nodded.

  When he reached the fourth blueprint he saw something he apparently didn’t like and jabbed at it with his forefinger: ‘What are these eleven little rooms on the first floor?’ and Zorn explained: ‘We’ll keep them available for worthy people who have only modest funds.’

  ‘Why?’ Taggart asked.

  ‘Because I’d never want to run a posh retirement hotel for wealthy people alone. I want to have schoolteachers, shop owners and farmers able to join us, too.’

  ‘That’s a good way to go broke, Doctor. Your first responsibility is to see that your establishment is on a solid financial footing.’

  ‘I’ve learned that from you. So I’ll have a hard-nosed financial wizard in charge of the money.’

  ‘Where are you going to find him? If your entire operation rests on his shoulders?’

  Financier Desmond interrupted: ‘Our man is already in place. My younger brother Alfred. Every time he has to spend a dime on my projects he winces, demands a written estimate, then checks to be sure the ten cents is properly handled. With our funds backing the enterprise and Alfred in charge of the money, we’ll not go broke.’

  A big warm smile filled Taggart’s face: ‘I like these eleven rooms. I like the idea of farmers and shopkeepers being able to join the party. Zorn, you’re as good a man as I thought you were on that sleety day in Chicago. Go to it.

  ‘Wait a minute,’ he said, snapping his fingers. ‘I’ve got it.’ He stood abruptly, leafed back to the second blueprint and inserted the proper adjective, the Sheltering Hills. Admiring his handiwork, he said: ‘It’s been gnawing at me throughout our discussion. Sheltering sounds so inviting that I might want to apply.’ Everyone agreed it was an excellent name.

  When he reached the fifth blueprint, the one showing in detail the parking areas, he took one look, grabbed a bold black marker and defaced the paper with a huge X: ‘Useless. Miss Clements, bring in that study of complaints from the field, seven copies,’ and when she complied the visitors saw the heading: ‘Complaints from our Ninety-one Directors.’

  Andy interrupted: ‘I thought it was eighty-seven,’ and Taggart said without missing a beat: ‘But that was last year,’ and he continued with his message, which stood out as if typed in big, boldface letters. It was clear and concise: ‘Insufficient parking 77, Monotonous food 43, Inadequate health services 27.’

  Striking the report with his fist, Taggart growled: ‘They don’t give a damn about their own health, but they erupt in fury over a convenient parking space for their car.’ Jabbing at the areas indicated on the blueprint, he said: ‘Triple them.’

  ‘You mean that much?’ Mr. Bingham said. ‘Look at the scale of that drawing. Those are big spaces.’

  ‘Quadruple them, and this time two years from now you’ll tell me: “You were a genius, Taggart.” But do not open shop with only those few parking spaces, or you begin with trouble, big trouble.’

  Here Zorn interrupted, ‘We might have big trouble on another point, and I want to clear the air about it right now. Am I going to appear on your masthead as director or resident physician of Sheltering Hills?’ and Taggart said: ‘Before you decide, you men who are putting up the money had better be informed about a problem you might face with a man named Clarence Hasslebrook.’

  Mr. Bingham interrupted: ‘Now, that’s a curious name. Fellow with that name applied last week for one of our smaller accommodations.’

  ‘That SOB,’ Taggart growled. ‘How could he have known about your project?’ and when the Chattanooga men explained that an article had appeared prematurely in their local paper, Taggart explained who Hasslebrook was and how he had the power to make trouble for any retirement facility that did not kowtow to his rigid interpretations of moral behavior.

  ‘You mean, he threatened to label each of your facilities Murder Mansion if you didn’t fire Dr. Zorn?’ Bingham asked, and after that truth was ventilated, the group spent nearly an hour dissecting the basic relationships between a retirement area, the local medical services, the general public, and residents who had signed properly witnessed living wills that permitted and even encouraged the cessation of radical medical steps to keep them alive when they were technically dead.

  When Hasslebrook’s stubborn behavior was fully described and understood, one of the Chattanooga team asked: ‘Are we to suppose that he’s enrolling in our place to monitor us, and perhaps Dr. Zorn in particular?’ and Cawthorn reasoned: ‘How could he? We didn’t know we were offering Zorn the job until yesterday.’

  Taggart said: ‘His crowd has spies everywhere. They may have alerted him to the fact that Andy’s father-in-law was interested in a retirement-home investment. And remember, Hasslebrook is like a weasel, sneaking around everywhere.’ He paused, liked the analogy but felt it could be improved: ‘More like a skunk, leaving a stench wherever he moves. You can smell him across seven states.’

  Mr. Gilman, the financier, did not approve of that ad hominem attack: ‘We may dislike the man and disapprove of his behavior, but life is sacred and he has a right to defend helpless people who might not be able to protect themselves. Let’s oppose him but not abuse him.’

  Now Dr. Zembright, a medical man nearing honorable retirement, took over: ‘The time’s come when we must face up to these moral tyrants who want to dictate how the rest of us shall live and die. Especially when you’re my age and have heard so many totally exhausted or brain-damaged patients beg you to help them end their agonies, you thank God for the public wisdom of the living will. I’ve signed one and I hope that the rest of you have, too, because I know what dying means. It can be a noble conclusion to a life well spent, or a travesty of what the word life really means. A birth, a period of work and contribution, and a logical termination.’

  There was a brief silence after his impassioned remarks. Then Zembright sounded the battle cry: ‘Gentlemen, we have the funds to withstand a siege from this enemy. And we have the knowledge of what a respectable retirement area should be. We’ll construct our facility in the most humane way possible, safeguarding every resident’s rights. And then we’ll welcome battle with this Hasslebrook. Better yet, we’ll invite him to the fray.’

  And he proposed that the Chattanooga team prepare a news release identifying Hasslebrook as someone who had already signed up for a condominium in the Sheltering Hills, and what his agenda was. He proposed that the owners state forthrightly that they revered human life and would take every step to prolong and make it tolerable. They were vigorously opposed to suicide, but because sensible people nationwide seemed to want the safeguards of a living will, the Sheltering Hills would honor such wills, providing they were legally drawn and that the subject understood what each of the terms meant: ‘We’ll step forth as the real protectors of mankind and will welcome the strictest supervision from the misguided Clarence Hasslebrooks of the country who are determined to dictate the way other people live and die.’ Then, choosing his words carefully, he turned to Gilman to seek a kind of peace with him: ‘The trouble, Charles, is that if we allow the wrong people to preempt the right words and give them false meanings, later we’ll have to fight to win back the words and restore them to their cleanliness.’

  When others wondered if taking Hasslebrook on in such a bold public step was advisable, Zembright rejected their fears: ‘I’ll sign the release.’ When this, too, was questioned, Zembright said: ‘I’ve built a respectable reputatio
n in eastern Tennessee, and there’s no better use to put it to.’

  ‘You mean you’re willing to take him on? Frontally?’ Taggart asked, and the white-haired veteran said very quietly: ‘I’ve fought medical battles all my life. Some of you remember when I opened my offices in Chattanooga right out of medical school and concluded, after a few months on the job, that the public would be better served if I formed a clinic of six or seven doctors like myself, each a specialist in his own field. One patient, one office, with all the consultations required. The established doctors vilified me, called me a Communist, and even you, Desmond, damn you, refused to sell me that corner lot for our offices, and three years later you were one of our best customers and advised all your friends to join our clinic. You even gave an interview in the paper: “Zembright’s group is the wave of the future.” And when we admitted blacks right into our waiting room, sitting beside you, there was another fierce stink. I’ve been through battles and I smell this as just the next in line. Yes, we’ll take on Hasslebrook and his attempt to dictate how we shall practice medicine,’ and he convinced his partners that they must stand together and inform the citizens of southeastern Tennessee that a war of principle was being waged in their backyard, one that could reverberate throughout the nation.

  Now Andy felt that it was obligatory for him to explain to the partners what demands would have to be met before he accepted the position: ‘Gentlemen, I think we’d all better take a deep breath. You’ve been free and easy making decisions about my position in your Sheltering Hills. A great name, Mr. Taggart. Thank you. But you haven’t asked me under what conditions I might accept the job. So here goes. First, I will not be your manager. We’ll hire a day-to-day administrator to keep the residents happy. Second, I will insist on being the medical director, offering full on-site care for as long as each resident lives. I am determined to be a full-fledged doctor again, and nothing less. Third, I will want Nora Varney as my health assistant. Fourth, I will rely upon my wife, Betsy, a shrewd young woman, as my in-house counselor. And fifth, I shall revoke Mr. Hasslebrook’s rental of quarters in our establishment. I believe in the sacredness of life, but I don’t want him around poisoning the atmosphere. Refund his payment. If you can accept those limitations, I think that Betsy and I could make this the preeminent retirement area, all things considered, on the East Coast.’