Grantville Gazette-Volume XIV

by Eric Flint

  They were sunk. Aside from the process part, there was the administrative part. There would be so many people to deal with. Employees, not apprentices. You could get to know everyone in a shop . . . but a factory? Lena wasn't sure. With a few apprentices, and a journeyman or two, you could rapidly learn which ones wanted to learn and which were little monsters whose parents had paid the apprenticeship fee to get them out of the house. But the shoe factory they had just visited had one hundred fifty-three employees. Most of them had families. Over three hundred people lived in this town, simply because of the shoe factory.

  There were only so many changes a woman wanted to deal with. Life as she knew it was falling down around her ears. Dara making eyes at a clerk. Her own sons wouldn't be following their father into his trade, because that trade wasn't going to exist in a few years.

  How were they going to live? Admittedly, Peter could repair these factory-made shoes and boots once they needed it. It would be a horrible comedown. He'd hate it, cobbling stuff together from scraps. Worse with prices so cheap—and she was pretty sure they were going to get even cheaper—how many people would have shoes repaired? What if it was cheaper to just order a new pair?

  She threw herself on the bed. She considered weeping. But then her stomach growled and she realized that what she needed was something to eat. And maybe a drink. Or two. Three at the most.

  * * *

  "Aiiee." Peter flinched, both from the bright sunshine and the noise of the barge being loaded. Loaded with crates of shoes which gave yet another reason to flinch.

  Lena found herself squinting and flinching as well. Probably, she thought, that last drink hadn't been a real good idea. Her head hurt. A lot.

  Obviously, so did Peter's.

  Once they'd found their seats—no staterooms for them. They were traveling steerage. Peter leaned his elbows on his knees and buried his head in his hands.

  "I'm sorry, Lena. Sorry it took so long to realize that you were right."

  Lena started to shake her head, then thought better of the idea. Her stomach wasn't exactly settled just at the moment. "It doesn't matter, Peter. I didn't realize how complicated all this was. We can't build or run a factory like that, anyway."

  He snorted. "I couldn't bring myself to believe it without seeing it. But now that I have, it all makes sense. Perfect sense. I can see how they do it, every step of the way. From leather and wood to finished shoe. It's not even hard. For all the good that it does. We're sunk, whether I understand the factory or not."

  That took a moment to percolate through Lena's brain. "You understand it? You know how the machines work?"

  Peter waved his hand. "Simple. I could have most of them built in Bamberg, now that I've seen them. Except for the sewing machines. I know exactly what they're doing. It's still shoemaking, just . . . ah, simplified. Well, not exactly simplified. Taken apart. All of the steps in making shoes are still done, but they're done in a different order and broken down into smaller bits than I would normally use. Even with the new apprentice." He shrugged. "But I can't afford to do it. Oh, I could reorganize the shop more along the lines of the factory. Probably will, when we get back. It might keep us in business for an extra few months. But it won't be enough, not without the machines."

  Lena's hangover began to clear up. Hope for the future began to trickle back. "What did you say?" she asked, rather louder than she intended.

  "Please! My head . . . what did I say?"

  "You said you knew exactly what they're doing."

  He nodded, then flinched at the movement. Lena understood. The morning sunlight off the river wasn't helping either. Nor the chug of the steam-powered barge.

  "Oh, yes. Simple. But we have no money."

  "Dear . . ." Lena smiled. "We have no money, true. But we can borrow it or get investors. Let me explain how to get it . . ."

  * * *

  A week later, with funds running low and two rambunctious boys to handle, not to mention Dara who was driving her crazy, Lena was about to bust. Red tape, they called it. The loan they needed was too large for the small business loans section of the Committee Savings and Loan Association. So she and Peter had been to see the people at the Grantville Bank, as well as the people at the credit union. With Peter agreeing, nothing was going to stand in her way if she could help it. The family's future was at stake.

  She thought she had the credit union convinced, because of the time factor. They had a window of time to get up and running before the railroad connected the northern and southern parts of the SoTF. If they could get the sales base, and name recognition, along the Rhine and Main Rivers established before the railroad came through, they had a good chance of success.

  "Come along, Endres," Lena said. "You're better with numbers than Benedict, so I want you to see how the bank operates. Benedict, you and Dara stay here with your father and work on the design for the assembly line."

  On the way to the credit union, Lena had Endres recite what he was learning about the business. No longer would it be possible for him to merely understand the economics of a single shop. He'd have to learn about bigger businesses.

  "Mother?" he asked after a pause.

  "Hm?"

  "What about the other shoemakers in Bamberg?"

  Lena looked at him, wondering what had brought that on.

  "Johan's father." Endres explained. Johan was a playmate of his. Johan Senior was prominent in the Shoemaker's Guild. "What will they do if we build a factory and take away their business?"

  "That's where the stock comes in," Lena said. "Hopefully, they will be willing to invest. That way they will each have a part of it." Lena really did hope that was the way it would go, but she had also planned for the possibility that it wouldn't. If they had to, Lena was pretty sure they could rent the property needed to put up a factory outside of town. "If they join us, they will bring what they know with them. Your father says that knowledge can be combined with mass production techniques. So we can have a line of custom-made shoes and boots for people with more money or special needs."

  "I'm not sure Johan's papa is going to be happy about that. When we left Bamberg, he was very angry about the Wish Book. There was to be a guild meeting, Johan said. And he said that Papa would be in trouble . . ."

  Lena looked down at her eight-year-old son. "Not exactly. The guild knew we were coming and agreed to it. It is true that they were thinking more in terms of getting the government here to crack down on the catalogs. And it wasn't just the shoemaker's guild. Many of the guilds were upset at the products for sale in the catalogs." She smiled. "Some people will bury their heads in the sand no matter what. I knew that the government would not restrict catalog sales to satisfy the guilds. But I did deliver their request. Demand, really. I was told that it would be filed with all the others. Then I was told that less than ten percent of the population lives in the cities, and now those villagers have a vote in how things get run. So the guilds will have to change, as they should already know."

  * * *

  "Yes. Just like that." Peter smiled. "Very good, Dara."

  Dara glanced up at him. He was looking back and forth between her drawings and a book in English. Peter didn't read English and neither did she, but they could look at the diagrams and use them as a basis for what they were doing. They had also hired an old Grantville hand to translate. They couldn't afford a real up-timer but Al, as he said to call him, had had two years in Grantville's high school. He had gone over the flow chart and described what was in the boxes and what the different shapes meant. It was, he said, a graphic description of an assembly line.

  Dara was having fun with it. She'd always been able to draw things, but it normally wasn't something she got a lot of time to practice. She was just too busy. This was something between drawing and writing. Like drawing ideas. It was interesting, but not as much fun as the drawings she'd made of the new clothes she wanted to make. Some of the up-time clothing she'd seen was wonderful. Some of it, like "sweatshirts," was ho
rrible. But she had ideas for a lot of new things.

  The days in Grantville while Peter and Lena went to Halle had been eye-opening for her in more ways than one. There was no way, she'd decided, that she was going back to being Lena and Peter's servant, cousin or not. There were too many other options now.

  The wages, board and clothing that she received from them were dwarfed beside what she could earn here in Grantville, even as a maid at the Higgins Hotel. And if she took a job at the Higgins, she'd have the time to take some classes and improve her prospects. Becoming a farmer's wife was less and less appealing.

  The whole world was opening up for her. And she wasn't going to let it pass her by.

  The only problem was: how would she tell them she wasn't going back to Bamberg?

  "Good enough," Peter said and for a second Dara thought he was talking about her plan to stay in Grantville. Then he continued. "That's the tongue and top subassembly, which is going to be one of the slower parts. We may need a double line there, but we won't know that for sure till we've been up and running for a while."

  * * *

  Dara answered the phone. Dara always answered the phone, almost from the moment they had arrived in Grantville. Lena looked on with irritation only slightly leavened by amusement as Dara raced to reach the instrument before anyone else could. A few moments later the phone was turned over to Peter who spoke for a few minutes. Then, with a bemused expression, he informed Lena that the Eisenhauer people would like to talk to them. Lunch tomorrow at the Higgins Hotel.

  * * *

  "So you come to our plant to steal our secrets and go into competition with us." Herr Eisenhauer smiled to take the sting out of his comment, but the smile was just a little bit forced. Lena could tell.

  "It is just business, Herr Eisenhauer. Where did you get the idea for your factory?"

  Herr Eisenhauer nodded a bit shamefacedly. "The same place the other shoe companies did. From the up-timers and the national library. In any case, we heard about your proposal. You do have an excellent point about the railroad. The transportation bottleneck between the Elbe corridor and the Rhine is making deliveries difficult and expensive. Considering that, we have a counter proposal to offer. Have you ever heard anything about something called a franchise?" Herr Eisenhauer had used an up-time word that neither Lena nor Peter were familiar with.

  "No," said Peter. "What does that word mean?"

  Hermann Eisenhauer explained, and neither Lena nor Peter were impressed. In fact, Lena was a bit miffed about it.

  "You seem to be saying that we should pay your company for permission to make shoes, which would be sold under your label. And then we should also pay you for each pair of shoes or boots we sell. Why should we do that? We can just as easily make our own shoes, sell them on our own label and not pay you anything." The more she thought about it, the more miffed Lena got. It seemed like a very good deal for the Eisenhauers but not for her and Peter.

  So Herr Eisenhauer explained again, this time saying that was just the definition of a normal franchise. What he had in mind was a little bit different. His company was willing to put up part of the startup capital and provide technical support in exchange for a percentage of the profit and, equally importantly, quality control. "If the Eisenhauer name is going to be on the shoes, they have to be good shoes."

  Peter was ready to leave at that point. The suggestion that shoes he made would be a poor quality was offensive. Especially since his shop had usually made workaday shoes rather than the fancier shoes for the wealthy. Peter's shoes were plain, but well made. Unfortunately, a lot of people fail to make the distinction. In other words, he took Eisenhauer's comments personally.

  "No offense, Herr Schumacher, but not knowing you or your products, how can I possibly know that? In fact, I am pleased that you insist on quality in your merchandise. But there are temptations in a factory and you need quality control. Suppose someone slips poor quality leather into their shipment to you, and it goes unnoticed till the shoes are finished. It can happen. I've seen it happen. It's then that you need a real stickler on quality control."

  The conversation continued, going back and forth between what Peter and Lena needed and what Eisenhauer wanted for it. Winding around to the political situation in Bamberg. They were going to have to offer the guild something. The opportunity to invest looked like the best bet. Besides, Peter and Lena didn't have all that much money. Yes, they could get a loan for some of it but loans mean interest and the possibility of foreclosure. If the Eisenhauer people were going to be putting up the lion's share of the money, they would want both control and the lion's share of the profits. There was also the possibility of the Eisenhauer people sending someone to Bamberg or perhaps Frankfurt to set up in competition with them. Perhaps in partnership with local shoemakers, who had more money to invest or were willing to take a smaller cut. Nothing was settled at dinner but everyone was cordial, keeping their options open.

  * * *

  The next day Lena went to the credit union to discuss Eisenhauer's offer and the problems with it. The biggest in Peter's view, and Lena tended to agree, was that they didn't know whether the guild would see reason. Or how much reason. Some of the guild members would be willing enough, drawn in by the potential profits. Others would reject the whole thing because it wasn't the way their father did business. Some would fear for their political power and social position. Not that the shoemakers guild was one of the prominent ones in Bamberg, but still the position of guild master—even of the shoemaker's guild—was not to be sneezed at.

  The reason that made it difficult is that it meant Peter and Lena would need to go it alone for an indeterminate amount of time. If all or most of the members of the shoemaker's guild pitched in, there would be enough money to put the factory together, almost without the Eisenhauer's investment. They would still want that investment, Peter and Lena agreed, because through the already present catalog ads, it offered a ready market. As soon as they got into production, they'd be selling shoes. Also technical support would help a great deal in putting the factory together in the cheapest, most efficient way.

  After she had explained the situation to the loan officer at the credit union, that worthy had a suggestion. A drawing account, rather than a loan for a fixed amount. And a limited power of attorney for the credit union, given the Eisenhauer's involvement. The credit union was now prepared to approve the loan amount, secured by stock in the company. Peter and Lena would make the deal with the Eisenhauer Shoe Company, then go back to Bamberg and get as much of the guild as they could, or as wanted to, to invest in the new company. Then the credit union would loan the remaining amount, transfer the funds and take possession of the stock as security against the loan. There were more details about how long they would be given to put the new shoe factory in operation, but that was the gist of it.

  * * *

  Lena, Dara thought, might as well be glowing, she was so happy. Which might make this the time for her own announcement. At any rate, with the family leaving in two days, she had to do it.

  "Ah, Lena?"

  Lena smiled at her. "Yes?"

  "I'm not going back to Bamberg."

  "What?"

  Dara kept herself from flinching at the shout, but only just. "I'm not going back to Bamberg. I got a job. Right here in Grantville."

  "What kind of job?"

  Dara explained her plan. She'd taken a job as a maid at the Higgins Hotel, and was going to night school, then look for better work. "I don't want to be a servant, Lena. And I won't have to be, not in a couple of years."

  * * *

  Lena leaned back in her chair, remembering. She'd been lucky. Her father was a prosperous farmer. But Dara's father hadn't been quite . . . well, that didn't need to be spoken of. Uncle didn't like work as much as Papa had, perhaps.

  So Lena hadn't had to put herself to work to earn her dowry. She thought about all the changes, then she took a breath. "Why the Higgins?"

  "I already know how to
clean," Dara said. "I don't know how to type and my reading isn't as good as it needs to be. I'll have to work at that."

  Lena took a good look at Dara, at the way she'd adapted her own clothing, and remembered all the drawings Dara had shown her. She thought a moment. "Will you let me help you? Perhaps we can do better than maid."

  * * *

  Dara barely kept her nervousness under control, while Hermann Eisenhauer looked at her drawings. One thing she did know was shoes. You couldn't really avoid learning about them if you worked for a shoemaker. Finally, Herr Eisenhauer smiled.