Rude. I understand how it was. I assure you itnever crossed our minds down in Washington that anything could have beenout of line in any manner whatsoever."
The assembled group smiled, and I smiled back, and we all felt friendlywith one another. Dr. Rude cleared his throat and said, "Well, is thereanything you can tell us about this tearpr ... about a paper having someof these very interesting properties?"
I said, "There is a great deal I can tell you about the paper we have,but suppose I let you see some specimens before I say anything. There'snothing like the actual goods themselves to do most of the talking."
We all laughed as I took half a dozen twelve-by-twelve hand sheets outof my briefcase and passed them around the table. I watched the chemistsfinger the sheets, savoring their soft coolness, and I heard thewhispered comments, "good hand," "excellent softness," "fine color," anda few others. Dr. Rude said, "Are these 'breaking samples', Mr. Saddle?Do you mind if we tear them?"
Well, you can see that this was the question I was waiting for. I satback and allowed a slight smile to play over my face. I said, "Oh no,gentlemen. Go ahead and tear them."
I saw several of the people take the sheets between their thumbs andforefingers, and gently pull. I saw the sheets tighten momentarily, andthen--as if the sheets were no more than ordinary cleansing tissue--Isaw the fibers pull apart as each man easily tore the sheet in half.
I felt the blood drain from my face, and it seemed to me that mypounding heart must have been visible right through my clothes. Iswallowed and tried to say something, although I had no clear idea ofwhat I was going to say. Words would not come. I leaned over and tookanother sheet from my briefcase and tugged at it. It tore in half withpractically no effort. I took another, same results, and still another.I dimly realized that all the people at the meeting were staring at me,but I wasn't concerned. I knew something must be wrong with all thespecimens; possibly I had placed regular cleaning tissues in mybriefcase, or maybe Susan ... but even as I thought it I knew such amistake was impossible.
I reached over and tried tearing one of the sheets I had passed out tothe others. It tore into quarters as easily as it had torn into halves.That finished me. I leaned back and looked around at the silent groupand wondered what Mr. Spardleton would have said at a time like that. Istarted to smile and discovered that my original smile was still frozenon my face. I stood up and began retrieving the torn papers; they passedthem back to me without saying anything. I replaced them in mybriefcase, closed it, said, "Gentlemen, Christmas falls on Friday thisyear," and walked out.
* * *
It was raining outside, but I scarcely noticed. I hailed a cab to theLogan Airport, changed my reservations to an earlier plane, and returnedto Washington. It was a slow trip. The planes were stacked up in therain at the Washington International Airport, but I did not notice thepassage of time. I was too stunned to think clearly, but I kept trying.I got quite wet in Washington, but I was in a hurry to see Mr.Spardleton and I did not bother to change my clothes.
I burst into his office. He looked up and said, "Well, I didn't expectto see you until tomorrow. How did...?" He saw my face.
I plopped my briefcase on his desk and pulled out all the specimens anddumped them in front of him. I said, "Just look at these. This'Tearproof Paper' has deteriorated. These specimens are useless. Rightin front of all the Rude chemists, they go bad. Most of them are newones, too. How can this be possible? Just look at them."
Mr. Spardleton picked up one of the sheets, rubbed it, and then tuggedat it gently to tear it. It did not tear. He pulled harder, and thenharder, and it did not tear. I stared at him in disbelief and said, "Oh,Mr. Spardleton, this is no time to play games with me."
I took one of the sheets and yanked it, and almost cut my fingers. Ibent over and put my hands on my knees to get better leverage just as Ihad the very first time, but the sheet would not tear. I threw it on thedesk and tried another with the same results. One after another I ranthrough them all while Mr. Spardleton sat back and watched me. I waswild-eyed when I finished.
Mr. Spardleton said, "Mr. Saddle, would you mind telling me what hashappened?"
I pulled up a chair, groped for my voice, and finally got the story out.He looked at me strangely, tried to tear another of those miserablelittle sheets, and said, "Mr. Saddle, do you feel all right?"
In Boston I had been completely deflated and bewildered, but now I wasmad. I grabbed up the phone and called Callahan. I had barely started topour out the story when he said, "I'm glad you called, Carl. We seem tohave run into something on this paper thing. Looks bad. Can you comeout?"
"Be right there." I hung up.
Mr. Spardleton went out with me; he didn't want me to go anywhere alone.Callahan was holding two sheets up to the light when we went into hislab. He said, "Two identical sheets, except for the moisture content.Moisture is the devil. One of these is dry, the other contains three percent moisture. Here's the dry one." He tore it in half effortlessly."Here's the moist one." And he strained at it, but it would not tear."We just ran across this effect last night, and finished checking it outan hour ago. Have you been to Rude Associates yet?"
I nodded.
"Too bad. We'll have to show them what can happen."
Mr. Spardleton said, "They already know."
Callahan said, "This kicks the whole thing in the head. The paper cannever be more than a laboratory curiosity, as far as we can see. Thesun, a dry climate, heat, any of these things will drive off themoisture, and the paper will lose its strength. There's no way we canmarket a product like that when it might lose its strength at any time.I'm afraid the 'Tearproof Paper' must join the huge list of fineproducts that can't be sold because of one small flaw."
It was Mr. Spardleton who steered me out of the labs. He slipped an armthrough mine and said, "You can refile the patent application and addthis information about the moisture content. You ought to get the patentwithout too much trouble even if the product is of no commercial value."
I nodded as we stood in the rain waiting for a cab.
He said, "I never told you what happened in that Phenol Case of minemany years ago. It turned out that the man at the next bench had spilleda little phenol on the bench top. That's what my inventor smelled; therenever was any phenol in the test tube. We all fall over the facts of acase now and then." He squeezed my arm, and the rain did not seem tofall quite as hard.
Transcriber's Note:
This etext was produced from _Analog_ September 1962. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and typographical errors have been corrected without note.
The Professional Approach Page 5
