Richard knew that Bob had to be aware of Janet's offer to resign if Bill had called him. So he ignored that jab.
“You may consider it a threat. We consider it a way to ensure that the show does what you say you want—to honor our nation's emergency personnel—with as few problems as possible. I've been to see the Foundation for the Family, and I'd like you to meet with me and their attorney, Tom Morgan.
“Oh, great. You've involved them too. That was a mistake. We don't exactly see eye to eye on a lot of things.”
“It's funny. They said exactly the same thing about you at first. But now they want to meet with us. How about sometime next week?”
There was a pause. Richard knew that Bob was not pleased, but that he also could not afford to ignore the offer of a meeting. “I'm on the coast until Wednesday late, and Thursday I'll be catching up. How about Friday morning, a week from today?”
“That's fine with me. I'll check with Tom, and if there's a problem, I'll call. Otherwise, we'll see you Friday morning. Say, eleven?”
“Yeah, fine. I'll grab our attorney and see you then. Goodbye.”
SUNDAY, AUGUST 13 – Richard and Janet greeted friends, old and new, at the reception in the parish hall following the special service that Sunday for the new members. The Merediths, Bryants, Hawkinses, and several other couples congratulated them in the line for the covered-dish lunch. Even the Shullos made a special trip to share in the joy of the day. Court embraced Richard with a special hug, and both men remembered their hug in Court's office the morning when Richard submitted his life to Christ.
“I can't tell you what that day has meant to our entire family,” Richard told both Court and Bob. “And Janet and I have been trying to walk our Christian walk every day, reading and learning more about Him.” Richard was telling the truth from the bottom of his heart; but if one listened closely, perhaps due to the accomplishments celebrated on that Sunday, there was also just a hint of pride in what he was saying.
“Congratulations to you both,” Kristen said, shaking their hands. “I hope I can take the next new member class and join you in a few months.”
“You'll enjoy the class, Kristen,” Janet responded. “There's so much to learn about our faith.”
“And luckily there are also many good teachers.” Kristen smiled at Richard.
“There's a ham in the refrigerator and four boxes of pretzels in the pantry,” Janet reminded Richard, as they put the last few things in the minivan that afternoon.
“And we'll look after him as best we can,” Nancy Bryant smiled, standing with Tom and Amy in the turnaround. Amy was beginning to show her condition, but she also looked very healthy.
“Did you have a good time with the Tomlinsons?” Richard asked.
“Yes, very much. They're really nice people, with a nice house. And she, at least, really loves God. By the way, Mr. Sullivan, Mr. Tomlinson asked me to tell you that he owes you now on two counts. He said you would know what he meant.”
“Well, I didn't do much in either case. But it was nice of him to say so. How are you feeling?”
“Fine.” She smiled, “But I guess I'm starting to feel a little bit like I'm pregnant.”
“You'll be fine. You look great. We're all praying for you and that baby,” Richard smiled back.
Soon everything was loaded, and there were hugs all around between the two families. Richard kissed Janet goodbye. “I love you and I'll see you in ten days. Goodbye kids.”
Richard and the Bryants waved as Janet pulled out of the driveway. “Can I interest you in a home-cooked meal tonight, Richard?” Nancy asked.
“Definitely sometime this week, thanks. But tonight I'm going to try to work through the pile on my desk at the office, which I've been ignoring for a couple of weeks,” Richard replied.
“Maybe we should invite the McKinneys and all of us get together,” Tom suggested. “How about Wednesday night?”
“Sounds great. Nancy, just let me know.”
TUESDAY, AUGUST 15 – Richard worked late both Sunday and Monday evenings. By Tuesday when he drove up his driveway, he knew he missed his family and the activity his teenage children brought to their life. The house was just so quiet and empty. Of other humans. But Nepravel and Zoldar were spending every free moment they had with Richard, stirring up voices in him, voices that could deceive him even with the Light burning inside him.
He wished now that he had accepted Bob Meredith's invitation to a new couples’ Bible study that night, which Bob and Anne were hosting as part of the Morningside outreach. Richard had said he would feel uncomfortable at the first meeting as the only single in a couples group, but he promised that they would attend once Janet returned.
He called Vermont, but his father-in-law said the family had driven into town for some ice cream.
As had already happened several times in the quiet since Sunday, he thought of Kristen. He knew that her apartment was only twenty minutes away. He could go see her. Not to do anything with her, just to talk. After all, a voice said, they had been very close, and it might be nice to hear about what she had been doing. Of course they couldn't go out together, so he would have to see her in her apartment…
The mental image of Kristen together with him painted itself clearly on his mind, and he realized what was happening. He slid out of his armchair and knelt there in his den, praying for God's protection against temptation. And protection for his family.
“Blast. He's praying again!” Nepravel spat. “The voices have almost stopped turning.”
“Well, we'll wait until he finishes, and then we'll start them again,” Zoldar responded from his lookout position. “We have too much invested in him to quit now. Even if we have to let everyone else in the neighborhood get saved this week, we've got to stick with Richard's destruction!”
As soon as he finished praying, Nepravel went right back to work, and within an hour Richard was feeling restless again. By now it was late, and he called Vermont and had a long conversation with Janet, catching up on their trip and on their first full day's activities.
WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 16 – On Wednesday morning Richard and his two interns had a conference call with Tom Morgan at the foundation, in final preparation for their meeting with Network in New York on Friday. The attorneys agreed to meet at the airport and to drive into the city together, to discuss any last-minute considerations.
A little before noon, Richard's phone rang. “Hi. It's Kristen. How are you enjoying being single?”
“Hi, Kristen. I'm actually kind of lonely. It's not very glamorous at all. I miss my family.”
“Welcome to the club,” she said with enough levity to avoid being offensive. “Isn't single life great? Listen, why don't we get together and have dinner? Nothing romantic, I just mean to talk. For old times’ sake. And besides, your church has made me think about some things, and I'd like to talk with you about them.”
He didn't say no. “Tonight I'm going next door to the Bryants for an early dinner with the McKinneys. By the way, how is their house looking?”
“I'm afraid it's a bit overpriced, but I have two families who may be interested, if Mr. McKinney will get realistic on his price.”
“Anyway, I have to get up early Friday to fly to New York, so I don't want to do anything Thursday night. But maybe Friday or Saturday. Do you think we could behave ourselves if I said yes?” He asked the question in jest, but one small voice was trying to break through all the others and ask it in earnest.
“If we have to,” she said with just enough seduction in her voice to make it interesting.
“Kristen, if we get together, which I'm still not committing to, we would definitely have to behave ourselves. I love Janet very much and don't want to do anything to hurt her.”
“Neither do I. We'll just have dinner and talk. Which night?”
“I've still got to think about it. It may be really dumb for us to get together, even though I'm sure nothing will happen. I tell you what. I don't know exactly
how long I may be in New York. I'll call you from there, or from the airport, when I know what's happening.”
“OK, Richard. Let's do get together. I really want to see you.”
Nancy Bryant made a delicious curry, and Amy volunteered to stay with the McKinney children so that the five adults could get together for dinner. Everyone steered clear of discussing Bruce's problem, though he brought it up several times himself.
“You should see the home buyers circling like sharks who smell blood! They know we've got to sell because of this mess, and they're circling in for the kill. They want us to give the house away! We've lived here fifteen years! No way.”
Diane warned Tom and Richard when she first found them alone in the den that Bruce had already had two drinks before leaving home. And Diane also shared with them her worry because Bruce no longer went anywhere or did anything. He was too embarrassed to go to their club, where many of his former investors spent their time. Other than their boat, which was also for sale, and an occasional jog, he had never been interested in outdoor activities. Stocks and bonds had been his life. And the McKinneys were not members of a church. So Diane despaired that Bruce was becoming a recluse, on top of their other problems. “Please, if you can think of anything to do or can include him in anything, please help him,” she quietly pleaded.
The opportunity came that night, although in an unusual way. As they were finishing their coffee and were talking about the upcoming elections, it was still early. Bruce changed the subject of their conversation to the “good old days” in their neighborhood, when the husbands were younger and did more things together.
“Remember after that 5K race on Labor Day—when was that? Five years ago?—when we all went down to the Platinum Club together? Was that a ball? How many of us were there? Twelve, maybe… Say I haven't been back there since. I hear they've changed it all around. What say we go down there tonight, guys? We haven't had a boys’ night out in years. What do you say?”
“I don't know, Bruce,” Tom began. But behind Bruce, Diane was nodding her encouraging approval, which everyone saw except her husband.
Nancy, who under normal circumstances would not be pleased about Tom going to such a place, understood Diane's wish for her husband to have some diversion, and said, “Sure, why not, Tom? It would be fun for you three to spend some time together. And at least we'll know where you are.” She smiled.
“Go ahead, honey. Have some fun,” Diane said to Bruce.
“What about you, Richard? Do we need to call Janet?” Bruce asked. “Remember, it's just like the shopping these girls do: It's all right to look all you want, but you can't touch the merchandise or take it home!” he laughed.
Without planning on it or really thinking about it, Richard found himself joining hundreds of other men—mostly conventioneers, he imagined—at the Platinum Club. The three men stood at the bar, waiting for a table, while a hundred or more completely nude young women danced on the stage, on two runways, and on individual tables.
Bruce was ecstatic, pointing out the particular attributes of this woman or that. Within a few minutes they were shown to a table, and soon Bruce had arranged for a beautiful, natural blonde young lady to dance directly above them on their table.
Richard was confused. He knew he should not be there. This was not what God had in mind, either for these women or for these men. Two or three times a voice tried to ask him how he would feel if his daughter Susan were dancing here for extra money in a couple of years; but that voice was blown away by the visual images. He wanted to leave, but Diane had virtually begged them to take Bruce. He felt trapped and smiled a “What-are-we-doing-here?” smile at Tom, who shrugged and yelled over the roar of the dance beat, “Just relax and enjoy it. I guess it won't hurt us!”
So Richard sat and watched. And watched. At least three of the young women near them reminded him of Kristen. And the deceptive voices, which had been building slowly inside him, started spinning faster and stronger. The Platinum Club was one of Nepravel's favorite places. As they sat next to Richard, Nepravel told Zoldar that it was their local “banana peel,” because so many men unsuspectingly slipped up there and wound up doing things they had never intended to do. Zoldar chuckled as Nepravel fed pure Passion into the deceptive mixture of Rationalization and Invincibility, already playing full tilt in Richard.
By the time Richard made it home, after too many drinks, too much noise, and too many visual images, he was primed, if not cocked, for the bigger event which Nepravel had in mind.
FRIDAY, AUGUST 18 – Friday morning Richard and Tom Morgan met in the Executive Club at LaGuardia Airport and took a cab into the city. “We've done our research, and I've got our list of names if we get that far,” Tom told Richard, as they threaded along that hour's best route to Manhattan.
“I've never prayed in a taxi before,” Richard said, “but why don't we start?” And he and Tom each lifted up a prayer for their meeting with the network that morning, asking for the Holy Spirit to prepare the hearts and the minds of those with whom they would be meeting and to guide and protect them throughout the process.
“Good morning, gentlemen.” Bob Grissom offered his hand as Richard and Tom were shown into his large corner office on the fifty-fifth floor of Network's headquarters building. “Please, have a seat at the table by the window. The others should be here in just a minute. Can we get you some coffee?”
The three of them confined themselves to pleasantries and to updates on those who had been wounded during the test run until Mark Pugh and a woman with a legal pad joined them in Bob's office. He made the introductions. “This is Mark Pugh, the executive director of ‘911 Live,’ and Sheila Alston, one of our most able attorneys. Mark, Sheila, please meet Richard Sullivan and Tom Morgan.”
There followed another five minutes of general discussion about the network and its prospects for the fall season, which led Bob to the case at hand.
“And of course we're planning for ‘911 Live’ to be our flagship for Friday night. The new technology we're debuting will be so powerful that we're going to open ‘911 Live’ two weeks before the rest of the fall line-up, to create an audience early, to anchor that night. And that's really just a month from now.”
“All the equipment is ready to ship to the ten cities we've chosen,” Mark added, “and we should begin on-site testing in each city within two weeks, to check for any problems or coverage dead spots.”
“That is, of course, if you'll allow us to put the show on.” Bob smiled, launching the first volley of the meeting.
Richard returned his smile and nodded. “If it were up to us, the show would be canceled. We think it's one of the worst things imaginable for television, certainly as it's now formatted. So we've at least established that you think it's the best and we think it's the worst. Luckily for you, the decision is not up to us, and we know it. So we can't allow it, or cancel it. But hopefully you will listen to our opinions and maybe even agree with us that what we're here to propose actually has some advantages for Network.”
“You've got the floor, counsellor. Please continue,” Bob said, as Mark and Sheila sat stonefaced, their arms folded.
“We've taken at face value what Bill Shaw has been saying, supported by the promotional material Janet has received from the Network PR staff, that the point of ‘911 Live’ is to honor emergency response personnel in America, by showing them in as realistic a setting as possible. We assume that it is not the purpose of the show to honor violence or to create opportunities for death or destruction. Are we right?”
The three network people looked at each other. Mark shrugged non-committally. Sheila said, “I really have no idea. That's not my area.”
Bob finally spoke. “I would say you're very close.”
“Good,” Richard continued, “because I took those words from your own promotional letter of June 18. So we all agree on the goal or the purpose of the show. Now we're deeply concerned about the probability of unexpected and uncontrolled violenc
e, crime, and even murder, right on our families’ television screens.”
Mark started to speak, “But it's…”
“… what's really happening.” Richard finished his sentence. “We know. But unless the goal is to show violence for violence's sake, which you say it is not, then you can still show ‘what's really happening’; only you can be a little selective about it.”
“What do you mean?” Bob asked.
“We have a couple of suggestions to make, both of which we believe can actually make the show better, if violence is not the primary goal. First, we ask you to extend the broadcast delay from thirty seconds to ten minutes. That will accomplish several things. It will of course let actual violence be edited, masked, deleted, or simply not shown. It will also allow you more time to see how a particular segment develops before airing it, not just from the point of view of cutting out any staged acts, which should be much more obvious after ten minutes, but also to tighten up the presentations and to show the most interesting stories possible.
“We checked with the regulators, and we tentatively believe that you can still use the name ‘Live,’ even with the delay, if you run a short notification at the beginning of the show. We believe the result will be a show that even better portrays our emergency personnel at work, without the worst problems that we now foresee.”
The network personnel had shared some glances while Richard spoke, but had said nothing. “Is there more?” Bob asked.
“Yes. No offense, Mark, but we don't think the broadcast/no broadcast decision on a particular segment should be left up to any one person. Rather, we propose a three-person editorial panel, which will work with the director, live, during each show, to decide whether some feed is just too violent or too objectionable to be shown, or whether it could be shown with masking.
“The members of this panel will all be paid for each show. They will receive training from each of the three groups whom they represent so that their diversity has a chance to gel into unity. Three pools of panel members will be appointed by Network, by the Emergency Personnel Association of America, and by the Foundation for the Family. During the four-month trial period we propose, all three members must agree on any segment, or it can't be shown. It's our hope that after a few weeks they will come to share a sense of what works for everyone so that the mechanics will smooth out.”
On the Edge Page 55
