The Richard Jackson Saga Book 15 The Lunar Kingdom
Ed & Carol Nelson
The Richard Jackson Saga
Book 15: The Lunar Kingdom: Coming of Age in the 1950s, an Alternate History told with Wit and Humor
By Ed Nelson
Other books by Ed Nelson
The Richard Jackson Saga
Book 1 The Beginning
Bookv2 Schooldays
Book 3 Hollywood
Book 4 In the Movies
Book 5 Star to Deckhand
Book 6 Surfing Dude
Book 7 Third Time is a Charm
Book 8: Oxford University
Book 9: Cold War
Book 10: Taking Care of Business
Book 11: Interesting Times
Book: 12 Escape From Siberia
Book 13. Regicide
Book 14. What’s Under, Down Under?
Book 15: The Lunar Kingdom
Stand Alone Stories
Ever and Always
Dedication
This book is dedicated to my wife Carol for her support and help as my first reader and editor.
Thanks to my editors, Old Rotorhead, Ernest Bywater, Lonely Dad, and Antti.
This fictional journey started with the Bellefontaine Ohio School class of 1962.
Quotation
“That’s the way it happened; give or take a lie or two.”
James Garner as Wyatt Earp describing the gunfight at the OK Corral in the movie Sunset.
Copyright © 2022
E. E. Nelson
All rights reserved
Eastern Shore Publishing
2331 West Del Webb Blvd.
Sun City Center, FL 33673
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
ISBN
978-1-953395-31-8
Table of Contents
The Richard Jackson Saga
Other books by Ed Nelson
Dedication
Quotation
Copyright © 2022
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 1
On Monday, January 6th, 1964, I received notification that our moon station had successfully achieved lunar orbit. Our original launch calculations had been almost exact. It had only taken a few minor burns to put it in a polar orbit on the moon.
I had a congratulatory message sent to the crew on board. Both Empress Ping and Queen Elizabeth sent theirs. President Kennedy also sent one, but it was much shorter as we had once more upstaged NASA.
Television pictures of the moon's surface were sent back continuously. The landing was showing in classrooms all over the world. It was at the time the most viewed broadcast in history.
Besieged with interview requests, I finally decided that I had to give in. It wasn't going to be a Rick Jackson victory, though. It was going to be a team victory.
To emphasize that, I flew back to our launch site in China and gave my interview from there. Unlike the first interviews with the international press, they had representatives on-site. We were generating enough news that they now stationed people there.
The reporters were all young people who were in line for better positions. For some reason, the edge of the Mongolian desert was considered a hardship duty station.
The questions all rotated around, "When are you going to land on the moon?"
"The moon landers are in transit right now. Upon arrival, a thorough inspection will occur. If both of them are in good condition, then we will make a landing."
"Why two?"
"Safety, we don't want to send people down and have a vehicle fail. Can you imagine what the deathwatch would be like?"
From the looks on some of the reporter's faces, they imagined it and saw themselves as the center of a painful long-drawn-out process. The ratings would be sky-high!
At times I hate reporters.
While awaiting the arrival of the lunar lander module, Jerri Cobb and the crew were surveying the moon's surface for a landing spot.
Our criteria were different from NASA’s, or I should say stricter. They wanted a flat, stable surface with no small craters filled deep with dust.
We looked for that, but we added that it also had to be a place to start tunneling down for a permanent base.
We hadn’t scheduled the base to start on this mission. But we were trying to find an initial starting point. If we didn't find it the first time, we would keep trying until we had one. We were landing on the moon to stay, not to say we had done it and go home.
My sister Mary had asked if she could send some clothes to the moon and ship them back. She wanted to sell T-Shirts that said, "The Space Ladies went to the moon, and all I got was this lousy T-Shirt."
I told her, "No!" then she went to Mum and her gang behind my back. The gang now consisted of Mum, Jerri Cobb, Queen Elizabeth, and Empress Ping. They overruled me.
They also decided to ship everything from T-Shirts and Sweatshirts up to fancy dress clothes. They would have different messages depending on the formality of the clothes. The lesser items were to be sold. The more expensive items were auctioned off at charity functions they supported.
When told by reporters that I had been saying that private enterprise and capitalism would be the ones to open up space rather than governments, I was surprised. Was I a hypocrite?
They don't play fair.
I think it was karma when one of the capsule loads of clothes had an engine failure and went sailing off towards Jupiter. It would take years to get there. If there had been people on board, we would have launched a rescue mission.
The value of the clothes wasn't enough to spend the time and effort to retrieve them. If there were Jovan's, I wondered if they would appreciate Earth styles.
The space station in orbit around the moon was a large affair. It is one hundred feet on each side. That is one million cubic feet. That sounds like a lot until you realized what we had to cram into it.
The first consideration was radiation protection. Since this is a long-term station, it wasn't if there would be a solar flare but a question of how big and how hard. The solution was a series of containers, ten feet by ten feet by three feet. These were the outer hull of the space station, filled with water; they gave us radiation protection and our water supply.
The containers would hold thirty thousand cubic feet of water. It would take 225,564 gallons to fill the tanks. Each tank was a stand-alone so that if a small meteoroid punctured one, we would only lose that container.
There were automatic feeds from each tank along with a set of manual controls as backups.
It took a minimum of one gallon of water per day for each person. We allowed two gallons. Ten people would take twenty gallons a day, so we had plenty of water.
The water was the most expensive part of the whole station. It weighed 1,872,180 pounds or about 849 metric tons. We could lift 50 metric tons a launch, so it took seventeen launches to place the water in orbit.
Each launch cost two hundred and fifty thousand dollars or over four million dollars total. Our goal was to cut the launch cost down to twenty-five thousand dollars per launch, but that was in the future.
As I told the launch team, “The only part of the explanation that I could do the math on was the cost. Everything else was beyond me.”
The team's next concern was being able to breathe. The primary source of oxygen will be generated by water electrolysis, with O2 in pressurized storage tanks.
Each molecule of water contains two hydrogen atoms and one oxygen atom. Running a current through water causes these atoms to separate and recombine as gaseous hydrogen (H2) and oxygen (O2). We vented the hydrogen as we had no current use for it, along with some other trace gases.
The major gas we had to remove is carbon dioxide using a machine based on a new material called "zeolite," which acts as a molecular sieve.
Along with the hydrogen and CO2, which we needed to remove, we had to face that people also emit small amounts of other gases. These are called farts.
Methane and carbon dioxide produced in the intestines are what make farts. Sweat creates urea when it breaks down. People also emit acetone, methyl alcohol, and carbon monoxide. These are byproducts of metabolism in their urine and their breath.
Activated charcoal filters are the primary method for removing these chemicals from the air.
If you think I came up with any of that, you are kidding yourself.
The food supply was fairly easy if you like to eat out of a squeeze tube. We allowed one and a half pounds of food a day. For ten people, this was 1350 pounds for ninety days. One launch covered this.
I do understand eating.
The largest technical issue was the generation of energy. We could handle our food, water, and air supply using known technologies. We were using solar cells to convert sunlight to electricity directly for energy. Large numbers of cells are assembled in arrays to produce high power levels. This method of harnessing solar power is called photovoltaics.
A detailed mission profile was constructed and assessed to ensure that the power system design would support the station.
The station's electrical power system uses twenty solar panels to convert sunlight to electricity. The twenty solar panels made an array 120 feet long by 50 feet wide.
Solar panels are not efficient by any definition. We were generating our energy by brute force or, in this case, by a very large array. We had several different development groups working on increased efficiencies.
We also placed a huge backup battery system to run the station for two days. This backup would give time for an orderly evacuation of the station if needed.
Each of the ten people permanently on board had their private room ten feet by ten feet by eight feet. The many arguments about such a 'waste' of space came down to a mental health issue.
The threat made to the engineers who thought it a waste of space was to put them into isolation for a month with no private space settled the issue.
Workshops and exercise areas rounded out the main areas of the station. There was a 'lounge' area with entertainment and a separate dining area.
All in all, it was a spectacular construction.
Chapter 2
I needed to explain some things to the main space program team. They would find this all hard to believe, but it would have a major impact on the space
program and, ultimately, all of the earth.
It had to do with my baby sister Mary. She had always been precocious and seemed way beyond her age.
Only recently had the full extent of her intelligence come out. While being super brilliant, she was also still a nine-year-old girl.
She had developed cold fusion, which wasn’t so cold. To start with, even though everyone called it ‘cold fusion, it was only ‘cold’ compared to the temperatures of an H-bomb, which rivaled the center of the Sun. Its energy was produced as heat, but in controllable amounts and with no radioactivity.”
She had always kept a diary of her days, so I will let that speak for her. When I explained the situation, she agreed to share several days of her life that explained what was going on. I pieced this together from her diary, conversations with our parents, Jim and Sally, among others.
Being tested:
When our Principle told me he would talk to my parents, I thought I was in trouble. I was but not the sort I thought it was going to be. Instead, he wanted me to be tested!
I didn't get it. I was tested in school and always got an A. Maybe he thought I had cheated on those. I had cheated a little; I always turned in my paper so Patty could see my answers. She had trouble with some subjects, and I wanted to help her.
Once when I was really mad at her, I took two test papers and filled them all out. The one I showed her had all wrong answers, the one I turned in got one hundred percent. She got a zero.
Maybe that's why she spilled ink down my back later that day. She swore it was an accident. I looked out our classroom window while the teacher droned on about how important we knew our timetables. I think I had memorized the Poisson Table of Probabilities but wanted to practice them to have them down pat. Maybe if I set the drapes on fire, she would shut up.
Nah, it was raining outside, not much, but I didn't want to stand in it and get soaked. Mrs. King had called on me five times today in class, so there was a less than three percent chance of her calling me again. It would probably be Connie next as she hadn't been called on yet, so it was in the ninety-nine percent category she would be next. She was.
While I looked out the window, Mum and Dad's limo pulled up. Not only had the Principal called them, but he also had them come in for a meeting. James went home with his parents the last time that happened, and we never saw him again.
The Word was that he was being held in Alcatraz. I thought Chino was a better bet but didn't know how to find out or place a bet on it. I could write a letter to him at both places, in care of the warden. If he weren't there, they would probably mark it, 'not at this address.'
While I had been thinking about this, the teacher called on Connie. She knew the answer like always and had been paying attention, so I didn't have to worry about her.
The next one up would be either Jimmy or Stevie, they were both paying attention, so I didn't have to pass a note, or in Stevie's case, kick him as he was next to me.
As Patty had said, if I didn't have the whole class to keep on track, I would have been bored out of my gourd. I'm sure it made Mrs. King's day easier when all her students were alert and had the right answers.
I had the right answers when I paid attention. I got my numbers mixed up when she asked me what seven times six was when I was trying to work a trigonometry problem in my head. I always got my secant and cosine tables mixed up when I memorized them.
When I missed hearing what she asked, I always said, 42, my answer for everything.
I was finally pulled out of class to go to the office. My parents had been there for a long time. Mrs. King looked puzzled as I hadn't done anything today.
Everyone looked serious when I got to the office, but my parents didn't seem upset, so I didn't know what to think. Every time they had to show up in the past, I got my butt spanked when I got home.
Today didn't look like a spanking day. I had put the extra handkerchiefs in my undies for nothing.
The Principle started with, "Mary, do you find your classes to be boring?"
If I say no, I'm lying. If I say yes, then I might get Mrs. King in trouble. It wasn't her fault she had to teach boring stuff. It was like that book in our library, Catch 22, by Joseph Keller. I couldn't win, so better not to lie. I knew how those ended on my rear end.
"Yes, they are boring, but Mrs. King is a good teacher. The other kids don't know the stuff she is teaching, so she needs to do it, but I already know that stuff."
"Who taught you that 'stuff?'
"Mum, did when I was little like before I started school, then I did most of it on my own using books in our library."
"Most of it on your own? Did someone else help you?"
"Ben, who takes care of our horses and is studying to be a Veterinarian, helped with the medical books. Then Mrs. Hernadez would help with the hard books in Spanish like "Don Quixote."
"What about math?"
"That is easy. I just read the books. I would work out problems on the blackboard in the library. Then I would have to erase them when they filled up. That was a pain because sometimes I needed the information for other problems.
I finally realized that I could take a picture of the blackboard and have Denny develop it for me. I read that in Time magazine when they did a story about Professor Einstein. Now that guy is impressive. I wrote him a letter and told him that quantum effects weren't spooky.
I understand how they work, but he never answered me back. I shouldn't have told him I was eight. He probably only writes back to teenagers.
"You will have to explain what quantum effects are later. What books have you read?"
I named off a bunch of them, mostly classics from the library. I think Plato's Republic was my favorite. I didn't mention The Catcher in the Rye or anything by Reverend Fielding. Those might give Mum and Dad fits.
"What about History?"
"I've read everything on Western Civilization, now I'm working on the Asians, after that North and South America."
"Since the aborigines in Australia only use verbal traditions, I'm hoping to go there and walk in Dreamtime with them.
I hastily added, "When I'm old enough to do their drugs."
Dad cleared his throat, "Mary, we would like you to take some tests to see what grade you should be in. It seems you are more advanced than we ever thought."
"I'm not in trouble?"
Mum asked me, "Why did you think that?"
"Every time you have come to school in the middle of the day, I have ended getting a spanking."
Mum grabbed me in a hug.
"You poor dear, you have got into so much trouble, and it's because we didn't know how bored you were."
Now I knew the answer when I got caught. I would tell the teachers I was bored. Today was turning out to be a good day after all. I wouldn't need those handkerchiefs.
I was told that I would be tested at Stanford University on Saturday. I wasn't to worry about the tests or study because they would be about many different things.
"Will they have Latin on them?"
The Principle told me, "They might."
"Ouch, my medical Latin is pretty good, but I haven't had a chance to speak with anyone who uses it for daily conversation."
"That's why they call it a dead language. Not very many people in the world use it daily. Maybe the Pope."
"Mummy, can I call this Pope guy and see if he will talk to me in Latin?"
"Don't worry about it, dear. I'll see about getting you an audience later."
"I thought audiences were those people who went to see Rick in his movies."
"You would be a small audience of one."
"Oh cool, like a private screening."
"Exactly."
"What does one wear to see the Pope? I have a set of those new Capri pants I can't wait to wear."
"Later, dear, it takes a while to get a private audience with the Pope. Fashions might change."
"Yeah, like those stupid Nehru jackets all the boys wore last year. I noticed Ricky didn't wear any. He is lucky he has Harold as his Valet."
"If he didn't, he would be wearing his cowboy hat everywhere."
"Yeah, it would look silly when he is in his morning suit."
The Principle cleared his throat and asked if we were done here. Dad told him we were, Mum and I could continue our important conversation at home. Men didn't understand what counted.
Chapter 3
Jim and Sally took me to Stanford on Saturday, taking their tests. They seemed easy to me. I think the hardest was on comparative religions. They wanted a long essay, and I found that to be boring.
I wrote that religions were man's attempt to find their place in the Universe, and as man learned more of the Universe, religion had to evolve.
The only problem was that different nations, races, and areas' knowledge didn't grow at the same rate, so it became awkward when the difference became too great, like auto-de-fey great.
I had to wait a week for the test results. At least the school did, and they shared it with my parents. I don't know what the problem was, but they had several conferences at school. I knew they had been to the office, but I was never called in.
Mummy and Daddy seemed distracted at home, as though they had a serious problem. One evening after dinner, they had me meet them in the library. I didn't even get a chance to collect any handkerchiefs.
"Mary, starting next week, you will be going to a different school."
"Which one?"
"Stanford University, you will major in mathematics as a senior. You may be tested again in other subjects and, if you do well, be made a senior."
"What about my friends?"
"You will have lunch three times a week at your old school to catch up with them."
"Will being in class with all those old people be scary?"
"Jim and Sally will be with you at all times."
"Okay then, if anyone gets mean, Jim can show them his handgun, or Sally can pull out that dagger she hides under her skirt on her garter belt."
"Or I even could pull mine out."
I showed Mummy the garter belt I was now wearing to hide my Fairburn-Sykes Commando knife that Ricky had got me for my birthday. My dresses below the knee hid it well.
"You will do well in school, my dear."
First Day at Stanford.
I was excited to start my first day at my new school. It was a long way from my house, so Daddy had bought me an apartment. He called it a Condo. That was a short form of a very long word that I couldn't pronounce.
Sally, Jim, and I would stay there three nights a week. I thought that would be so neat. Mummy wouldn't be there. I could stay up as late as I wanted.
Mummy and Sally had spent two days at my new pad, as Denny called it. They bought furniture and had it all set up, sheets, blankets, and all sorts of kitchen stuff. They even went grocery shopping.
It looked like a lot of work. I asked Mummy why I just didn't stay at a hotel. She told me it was a matter of security. I thought about that. Suppose Sally or Jim had to shoot someone? There was less chance of hitting an innocent bystander. Hotels are full of people.
The place had four bedrooms, so we each had our own, and the extra one was my office! My very own first office. It had a phone line, a copy machine, a typewriter, and other stuff like staplers.
I would have to learn how to type. In the meantime, I would write out all my assignments.
Sally took me to a bookstore on my first day to buy textbooks. They cost a lot of money. I had to pay five dollars for my math book. English was cheap at four dollars.
I took English 101, Arts 101, Physics 401, and Calculus 401. The 101 courses were required for a degree. I hope they won't be boring.
The next morning, I had my first class. Jim drove Sally and me to the right building and dropped us off. He had to get a parking permit for the school.
The class started late, like nine in the morning. I couldn't understand why all the other students looked like they weren't awake. I had been ready to leave since seven in the morning. They looked like they had just gotten out of bed.
Sally walked me to class. She would be sitting in the last row of the classroom for each of my classes. That was embarrassing. She would see me passing notes.
I sat up front where I could see the teacher. The desks were so big I couldn't see over the people in front of me. I was the only person in the front row.
When we first came into the room, some guy told Sally she couldn't bring her kid to class. I looked around and didn't see any kids with Sally. She ignored him.
People kept coming into the room until all the seats were filled. Everyone looked at me funny as though I had cooties. I sneaked a look in the small mirror in my handbag, but my face was clean.
When our teacher came into the room, he stopped when he saw me. Sally had been waiting for him and handed him some papers. He read them and smiled.
"Welcome to Calculus 401, Mary."
"Thank you, professor.”
I had practiced how to talk to my new teachers on the drive-up with Sally. Jim told me to call them Dude, but he couldn't fool me. Some of them might be ladies. Should I call them Dudettes? I decided to go with Professor as Sally recommended.
She told me that I couldn't go wrong with that, even if the teacher were only a teaching assistant. I wondered about that. Mrs. King didn't have any teaching assistants.
Maybe that was what she meant when she said she needed a referee some days.
Just as the teacher was about to get started, some guy asked.
"What's the kid doing here?"
I still didn't see a kid. The professor told him that Mary Jackson had tested into the class. They were talking about me! I crossed my arms and glared at him. If it had been Patty, she would have known trouble was about to start.
One of the older girls, who were all older, asked me a question.
"Are you the Mary Jackson with the clothing line?"
"Yes, I am."
"I thought I recognized you from your TV ads."
“Thank you. I thought the ads made me look fat."
This statement got all the girls in class talking about my clothes. The boys were asking what clothing line and what TV ads?
The teacher finally slammed a book down on his desk to get their attention. That allowed me to shoot a spitball.
I shot it at the guy who called me a little kid. It hit him on the end of his nose. He went cross-eyed looking at it. When he realized what I had done, he whispered, "Nice one."
Maybe he wasn't a jerk. I wouldn't spill any ink on him after all.
Ricky had been visiting at home just before I came up here. He explained how important it was to read the book and work on the problems before class at the end of each chapter. That way, I would know what I didn't understand and ask to explain it in class.
I had done that and was glad I did. It took me a little while to figure out, but there was a typographical error in the book, or the author was dumb. I was betting on the typo.
I thought I had better help the teacher by letting him know about the error so he wouldn't look stupid in front of the class.
I held up my hand as soon as everyone was quiet. The professor called on me, and I explained an error in the textbook. A plus sign at the end of chapter three, problem number four, should be a minus.
I had taken what Ricky had told me to heart, as Mummy would say, and read five chapters ahead.
The teacher told me I was probably wrong, but he would look at it tonight. He did ask me.
"Why do you think it is wrong?"
"With a plus sign, there is no way you can get a smooth curve or any curve for that matter. Using a minus works out nicely. I think it must be a typo, or the person who wrote the book is stupid."
A quiet burst of laughter in the room died away at once.
"Mary, I agree. If it is wrong, it is a typo that didn't get caught."
Sally later explained that the teacher had written the textbook we were using.
After class, several girls wanted to talk to me about my clothes and the different Princesses I used as models. Were they nice?
The guys all left immediately. I was getting ready to leave when the teacher called to me.
"Mary, if you spot any other errors, will you please tell me in private."
"I can do that. What is it worth to you?"
When someone asks you for something, the negotiations start. For some reason, Sally interrupted me.
"Excuse Mary, please, this is a game they play at her house. "
The teacher looked a little red-faced. I don't know if he was embarrassed or angry. I took Sally's hint and told him that, of course, I would bring it up in private in the future.
On the way home, I asked her why she didn't give me a chance to negotiate good grades. All I would have done was work out all the problems in the book to get an A. She gave a huge sigh.
Chapter 4
Math was a morning class on Mondays and Wednesdays. I had art appreciation in the afternoon of those days, followed by English literature. I don't know why we had to take the literature class; I already could read.
The first day in art class, the teacher was snotty with me. He said children couldn't appreciate the nuances of fine art. I couldn't resist it. I held up my hand.
"Yes, Mary."
"What's a nuance? Is it like a nuisance?"
"Exactly, just like you."
"Thank you for your explanation. I will be certain to tell the Chancellor how helpful you have been when Mum and I have tea at his house this weekend."
"Perhaps I was misspoken. Nuance is the subtle details of what makes a painting, for example, great rather than a more mundane copy."
“Oh, you mean like Henri Matisse compared to fellow Fauves, Barquet, and Dufy. They were good but not up to his standard."
"Err, exactly. How do you know about those painters?"
"My brother, Ricky, told me I should read ahead in all my classes so I could ask intelligent questions about what I didn't understand. He loaned me his books and notes from Oxford."
The teacher turned to the class and told them, "Out of the mouths of children. I recommend you take that advice to heart."
He then went on to show us pictures of and tell us about great paintings. When he got to Van Gogh and Starry Night, he stopped.
"Mary, you are turning up your nose. Don't you like this."
"I think it is okay. I'm not sure about Van Gogh’s choice of colors."
"What's wrong with his colors?"
"They clash with the drapes in Mummy’s hobby room."
"Your Mother has a copy of Starry Night?"
"I don't think so unless they sell copies at Sotheby's. Daddy bought it there for her birthday."
"It's hard to believe that your family owns that. It would cost millions of dollars."
"It wasn't that many million, only two or three. I could afford that if my parents let me have my money."
"Your parents take your money?"
"Yeah, they put it in a trust fund. I don't know how you decide to trust the fund, but they do. They wouldn't even let me have the money to buy a new limo this year. They said I had to keep the one I had for two years."
All the other students were laughing at the professor and me for some reason.
The professor finally asked them what was so funny. One of them told him, "The Jacksons are one of the wealthiest families in the world. If they wanted, they could buy the Musée Jacqueline et Pablo Picasso."
"Daddy tried. He hates Picasso. He met him in the war and didn't like him at all. The US State Department wouldn't let him do it. They said it might cause a war with France."
"Why a war with France?"
"Daddy was going to burn the paintings."
"Why?"
"Daddy was a military policeman, and he had to interview women when Picasso was charged with physical and mental abuse. He didn't think he deserved to be considered great."
"That brings us to a good point. Class, your next assignment is to write about how a great artist can be a bad person. One thousand words and give examples."
I held up my hand. The professor didn't want to see my hand for some reason, but I kept waving it. He finally recognized me.
"Can we use examples of great villains who were very bad and were terrible artists?"
"Like whom?"
"Adolph Hitler, for one."
"I suppose your Dad knew him also."
He sounded snide to me. I think that was the word. I would have to check it out.
"No, that was my Grandad Newman. He met him right after World War I at a beer garden in Munich."
"I suppose he hated him on sight because he saw the evil in him."
"I don't think so. According to Grand Mum, Grandad thought he should take a bath. He smelled."
A bell rang about that time, and we all got up to leave. I heard the professor mutter, "Thank god, we're going by the quarter and not the semester."
I didn't understand that at all. I enjoyed today's class.
Sally walked with me to my next class, English Literature. Two other girls were headed that way, so we made a small group. They wanted to talk about the latest fashions.
One of them wanted to know about the drapes clashing with the painting. That gave me an idea for an extra credit problem. I could bring the painting and drapes to class and show them how they didn't match.
All I had to do was talk Mummy into loaning me the drapes. She liked them. I don't think she would have a problem with the painting.
English literature was boring. The teacher gave us the reading list for the quarter. I held up my hand.
"What if we have already read all of these?"
"That's unlikely young lady, but if you have, you can take the final and test out of the course."
"When can I sign up to take it?"
"You mean to tell me you have read Pride and Prejudice, Vanity Fair, Frankenstein, David Copperfield, Wuthering Heights, Bleak House, Jane Eyre, Great Expectations, Middlemarch, and even Mrs. Dalloway and To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf. I don't think your parents would allow that."
"I didn't ask, they were all on our library shelf, so I picked the ones that sounded good."
"You are too young to read anything by Virginia Woolf. She is too mature for you."
"She's tame. Now The Decameron is risqué."
"You've read that!"
"It was just sitting there on the shelf. It was hard to read, I had to use my Italian dictionary, and even it didn't have all the words."
"You read it in the original Italian?"
"I got most of the way through. It is like Spanish, you know, but I gave up, especially when I found out that we had an English translation. My brother Denny had it hidden in his room. He had to pay me fifty dollars so I wouldn't tell Mum that he had hidden it. She hates it when we leave books around the house."
"See me after class. We will discuss this further."
"Yes, ma'am."
The teacher told the class Mary has brought up an issue that we face in literature, when is it literature, and when is it pornography. I want a thousand-word essay on the differences between the two on Wednesday.
The class all groaned at that. One guy said he wished the brat wasn't in this class. She caused nothing but trouble.
Since he was looking at me, I knew he meant me. I glared back at him and crossed my arms. I would have to start carrying a bottle of ink with me, or maybe a jar of fire ants.
I had another thought and held up my hand. Once more, the teacher didn't want to recognize me but finally had to.
"Yes, Mary." She sounded a little tired.
"Can we bring in examples?"
"Like what"
"I also found Denny's collection of Playboy and Hustler Magazines. I think they are examples of each."
"I supposed you blackmailed him for fifty dollars not to tell."
"Oh no, I got a hundred for that. I think blackmail is too crude of a term. I prefer to think of it as Denny paying me tribute for my silence on his crimes against Mum."
"Crimes against Mum, why not Dad?"
"Dad is the one that gave them to him. I still haven't figured out how to approach Dad to gather tribute for not telling on him."
"I suggest great caution."
"Of course, I just can't figure out how much to ask for."
For some reason, Sally was having whooping fits in the back of the room.
After class, I talked to the teacher. Sally was there and assured the teacher that she had seen me reading the books in the back of the limo. She didn't know how well I understood them, but I had read them.
She asked me about water imagery if I understood that. I told her it usually referred to birth and rebirth or even purification. I gave the example of Horace's figuration of Lucilius as a river churning with mud and the transformation of that image at Juvenal, where the Orontes flows into the Tiber.
"I suppose you read that in the original Latin."
I was embarrassed but confessed, "We have it in English at home."
"I'm a little disappointed, but you can take the exam tomorrow morning if you want."
"I would like to do that; I don't want to get in trouble in your class."
I told her about the guy who called me a brat and what I planned on doing. She told me to be here at 9:00 am sharp to take the exam.
That’s how Mary got into college and came up with the formulas that proved cold fusion was possible. JE Research took it from the theoretical stage to proof of concept, then built the first working models.
Chapter 5
Continuing on my mission to divest most of my business, I had a long session deciding which should be deposed of and how. After deciding what JE businesses to dispose of, I went to Mum and Dad. As software people called it, they were my alpha testers.
Wanting a sanity check on my ideas, I asked for their time in the library after dinner that evening. I thought it would take about half an hour of their time.
I would tell them what I wanted to do, and they would tell me my ideas were great, go for it, now let's watch some TV.
Dad's first question was, "Have you checked out if the markets will bear all these businesses selling at once."
"No, I haven't. That sounds like it would be a good idea."
Mum came up with, "How much are you asking for each company?"
"I haven't settled on a price yet."
"How much are your companies worth? That should give you an idea of what you should be asking for them."
"I have no idea, and I think some multiple of sales would be a starting point."
"True, but some of your businesses like the shipping and freight company have capital equipment, while others such as software are intellectual property," from Dad.
"It sounds like I have a lot of homework before I can put them on the market."
"There are companies that will evaluate their worth. Banks and Wall Street trading companies that specialize in IPOs. They can handle the evaluation of the share costs."
"So I have to find the right people to handle the sales and IPO, but then they will do all the rest of it."
"All but pay the taxes."
Dad and his taxes.
What I thought would be half an hour turned into two hours and three cups of coffee, along with attendant bathroom breaks.
Dad brought up, "Rick, you will have to manage the news of these sales carefully. You don't want people to think you are having a firesale. Plus, you have employees who will panic at the news of you selling out."
"I intend to make it a part of every deal that all employee's jobs are protected for one year unless the discharge is for cause."
"Even so, Unions will be knocking on the door trying to convince your people that they now need the Union’s protection. If the Unions get in, the value of the company will drop."
"This gives me a lot to think about. Thanks for your input, Mum and Dad."
I lay awake a long time that night, running scenarios through my head.
My next step was to talk to Jim about selling most of my businesses. I had no idea of how he would take it.
Fortunately, he took it very well.
"Jim, I need to talk about divesting most of the business units.
"Thank God!"
"That was enthusiastic."
"I have been hoping this day would come. Things have been growing faster than the rest of the team, or I can manage. There will be champagne toasts when the news gets out. You realize that you have made us all millionaires at the top three levels of the company. Some of us have been scared that we might lose it all because of loss of control or the government stepping in and calling us a monopoly."
"I thought we had taken steps to avoid the Sherman Antitrust act and all the rest."
"We have, but the government can change the laws when it wants."
"Yeah, I almost had that happen in Australia. I had to bring the Queen of England and the Empress of China in as part-owners to stop that move."
"Okay, Rick, how do you see this playing out?"
First, I described how I would like to divest each business unit. Then, I described what needed to be done before selling the companies or having an IPO with a straight face.
"We are going to have to look at each market that we deal in to see if it is even appropriate to try to sell in or have a stock offering."
"After that, we have to identify possible purchasers."
These thoughts resulted from my midnight tossing and turning while playing through scenarios.
"All the divisions and operations need some evaluation as to their worth to give us an idea of what we should be asking. I suspect we will have multiple companies in different countries doing the evaluations. For the IPO, we will have to decide on which commercial bank or trading house will manage the offering."
"Then there is the news factor. We don't want to panic the markets or our employees. We will have to be careful about Unions seeing this as an opportunity. I know I would if I were them."
"Rick, you have given this a lot of thought."
"That and some good advice from my parents."
"That's a given."
We agreed that a team of upper-level management had to be put in place to handle the sales and IPOs. I let Jim know that I was now going to talk with the Queen and the Empress to make certain I wouldn't cause problems with them.
When all was ready to go, I would talk to JFK. He was last because, at that point, the news would spread fast. The White House leaked like a sieve. Everyone there would want to get rich off of insider knowledge. That wouldn't happen in England or China, but they were Monarchs and could keep a lid on things.
After a brief discussion with Mum and Dad about my conversation with Jim, I headed to England.
As usual, I didn't get in to talk directly to the Queen until after explaining all to Mr. Norman. He was another one not surprised by my desire to sell. While not as vocal as Jim, he agreed that it was getting too much for me to control.
He asked for several days to investigate how all this would affect England, to which I agreed.
That night, I stayed at my suite in the Plaza and went for a morning run on Rotten Row in Hyde Park. I wasn't surprised when a young lady came barreling towards me on horseback, giving me the finger.
What did surprise me was after she passed me, I heard a commotion. A lady pushed a pram right in front of the young lady. She managed to turn the horse enough to miss the pram but got thrown in the process.
I rushed to her aid. My only thought was to help, not to find out who had been rude to me so many times. Well, maybe it did cross my mind.
When she was thrown, she had twisted her right ankle when she landed. I bent down to help her trying to ignore the unladylike language. She was as bad as my Mum when she got upset. Both of them would put my Uncle Popeye to shame.
For the first time, I got a good look at her. She had always been flying by. If beauty is in the eye of the beholder, then my eyes were beholding beauty.
She was a brunette with brown eyes. No feature stood out, but they all came together. A modest trim figure completed the package. After I helped her stand, she asked if I could help her round up her horse.
She had settled down, and it was now only her blankety-blank horse. I looked around and saw her horse calmly eating grass a dozen yards away. I helped her limp over to capture the blankety horse.
As she calmed down, her speech was nicer. She and Mum would get along.
I took a chance and asked her, "We have passed half a dozen times, and you always make a rude gesture. Why is that? I don't believe we know each other."
"Oh, we don't. I had a bad experience with a man that looks a lot like you. Every time I see a look-alike, I give them the finger. That way, I won't miss sharing my feelings if it is him."
That was an interesting take on life. According to that, I should be shooting every Russian, North Korean, and East German that I ran into. Now that North Korea and East Germany weren't separate countries, it could get messy.
We exchanged names. Hers being Sandra Wilson. I gave her a plain Rick Jackson in my American accent. I had to think about doing it. I had used the English one so much it had become second nature.
I helped her get on her horse to get back to her stable. She was a nice handful. I thought about asking her for her contact information but thought better of it. I had so much going on that I didn't need any more complications. Besides, I reminded her of a bad boyfriend. That couldn't end well.
I went to Treacher’s for fish and chips. I wondered if I could talk him into opening franchises in America.
Chapter 6
The next morning, I met with the Queen. Her advisors had reviewed my plan and found nothing that would hurt the United Kingdom.
"Richard, there is nothing in your plan to divest yourself of your companies that will hurt the United Kingdom. Since you are keeping the Space Division intact and under your wing, our countries will continue to prosper."
"I do have a personal request. Three families lost their fortunes in the last war while aiding Great Britain. Since their senior members died in that war, they have never recovered. If you could see your way to allow them to participate in one of the IPOs, I would appreciate it."
"If you will provide their names, I will have them invited, Your Majesty."
"Mr. Norman will provide the particulars."
I was excused and backed out of the small room. Mr. Norman was waiting for me with the list of three names. They were a Smyth, Wilson, and McTavish.
"Rick, these families have given their all for Queen and country, and we have never been able to repay them. While not living in poverty, they have fallen greatly."
"I will have them invited to the IPO for the container company. To ensure that all goes well for them, I will invest one million pounds in stock for each family. That way, if things don't go well, they won't be out anything more."
"You are a fine young man, and I'm certain that you will be well rewarded for your actions in the future."
"I have been very fortunate. I'm glad to be of help."
"Yes, but this is a large sum you are gifting them."
"You do realize that the goldfields alone will provide me with over fourteen billion US dollars next year?"
"One forgets your circumstances. Would you be interested in repaying the Kingdom's war debt?'
"No."
With a cheeky grin, he told me, "I had to ask."
Later that day, I boarded my 707 to fly to China. There was a new one on order, but it would be another six months before I saw it. The flight via India was without excitement. The best kind.
I was getting better at gin rummy. I won seven dollars this trip. I was whipped by the time we got to Beijing. I spent the next two days recovering.
I couldn't have held an intelligent conversation the first day if my life depended on it. The next was better, but I still wasn't up to par.
I had an appointment with the Empress’s Chief of Staff the morning of the third day and dinner scheduled with the Empress that evening.
The meeting went well with the Chief of Staff. He almost wet his pants when I told him that I wanted to sell the Noble House. You could see the dollar signs turning in his head.
He wasn't as enthused when I told him it would be an IPO on the Chinese stock market rather than a private sale, but there would still be opportunities to make money.
China is China.
He couldn't come up with any objections against China's best interests, so he told me to proceed. Unlike the UK, where advisors reviewed things, he made the decisions.
At dinner that evening, I broached the subject with the Empress. She assured me that she had been kept up to date on events and that the disposal of the Noble House had been reviewed before I arrived.
She thought a public offering would be good for the Chinese people and that she would hold the Chief of Staff and his cronies in check. They would get a share but not the lion's share.
If the Chief didn't agree to this, she could always replace the late Chief.
Her spy system was very good, and she was ruthless.
I worked up the nerve and asked her why May-ling blew hot and cold about our relationship.
"Rick, I think she likes you a lot. You have never been told, but she had a childhood disease that left her unable to ever have children. Being infertile will lead to problems when she ascends the throne. A second cousin would replace her, but frankly, we don't consider him or his heirs able to do the job. She doesn't want to involve you in a mess and also deny you the pleasure of children."
"She is also afraid that if she is killed or dies of natural causes on the throne, the people will want you to take her place. There will be others who will try to kill you. They would install the second cousin who would be their puppet."
Wow, that gave me a lot to think about.
It was a sober flight back to the US. Not that I drank a lot, it was a sober reflection about May-ling and where we could go, if anywhere. I had never given having children thought, but after thinking about it, I realized that I always assumed I would have them someday.
As far as taking the throne, I didn't see that happening. Many had tried to kill me, and look where the attempts had gotten. It wasn't a pleasant flight.
Returning to Mum and Dad, I updated them on the business portion of my trip. I wasn't ready to talk about May-ling.
They saw nothing wrong with helping the families as the Queen had requested. Since the Empress agreed with our plan, there was no problem there.
They were a little relieved when I told them that Jim agreed it was time, and the matter had been discussed previously in the upper management levels.
Jim's wanting to put together a team to ensure the timing of each event and taking care of all levels of current employees while forestalling unionization was a good sign.
They thought I had a plan in place, and it was time to start the process.
So it was now back to Jim. I shared Queen Elizabeth's minor requests, and he had no problem with them, especially since I would be funding them.
The Chinese position agreed with ours, so it was now full speed ahead. While I was gone, he had selected a team of managers who would lead each divestiture. They would each head up a team handling the separate projects.
At all team levels, they were long-term employees who had done very well financially from the company and should continue to do so if they chose to stay on. There should be no internal issues.
I explained to the team why I was doing what I was doing. Ultimately, I protected us all from the company. It could become an unmanageable monster that would collapse under its weight. From the nods around the table, they agreed.
I explained what I wanted to be done with each company division. We would be a holding or licensing company when all was said and done. After additional thought, even the Space Division was spun off into a separate company.
The Estancia and Stations were my holdings, so I wasn't involved in this. I agreed that when all the subteams were formed, I would explain the why and how of what was to be done.
The explanations needed to go smoothly. One hiccup could affect it all.
My next step was to arrange a meeting with JFK. The changes I wanted to make were the normal business flow in the US, but they were also of a magnitude that could affect the national economy.
When I called for an appointment, they practically demanded that I come in immediately. Since I had to fly from California to Washington DC, it would be the next day.
Upon arrival at the White House, I didn't have to wait at all. The President and his economic team were waiting for me.
It seems that the US also has a good spy system.
President Kennedy didn't mess around, "Rick, what's going on? We have heard a hundred rumors in the last two days. Is your health okay?"
"Nothing like that, Mr. President, the long and the short of it is that I have decided to divest most of my companies."
"Why?"
"They have become too large for me to handle. I don't want a failure because I didn't do the job. I'm either selling to the current management, putting the companies on the open market, or having an IPO."
One of his advisors pumped his fist in a victory sign. He had guessed right. From the scowls around the table, they had disagreed with him in public or, worse yet, lost a bet.
"What are your plans for the container business? That one will have the most impact."
"I'm selling off Howell, Narrow Freight, and the Scottish Lines. The main container business will have an IPO."
"Who is handling the IPO?"
"That hasn't been decided yet. We need to select partners for each divestiture and then evaluate the worth of each company."
"Who is your leader on this?"
"Jim Williamson is the leader of the project. Under him, a team leader has a team that will handle each project. These are in place and starting the process. Each team will select the financial institution they will work with."
"Do you mind if we make suggestions about which financial institutions they work with?"
"Not at all if you work under the same conditions as the Queen and Empress have agreed to."
"What are those?"
"Elizabeth will have those who don't work in our best interest beheaded. The Empress will have them strangled."
So I made it up. It was still worth it to see the looks on their faces. What were looks of greed now became fear. After a weak grin, the President asked.
"What's your next step?"
"The one I hate the most, a press conference."
Chapter 7
That evening, I flew back to California to have the press conference at my offices. The new office campus had a room set up for that. If things went bad, I could go home and hide in my room.
I got home late Tuesday night, so Jim had a press conference scheduled for Friday. Friday was the traditional day to drop bombs on the news cycle. You hoped that by the time Monday rolled around, other events would overtake your story.
It didn't happen that way for me. Nothing happened over the weekend, so Monday, my story was the lead story.
The conference went as predicted. I announced that I would be doing a major restructuring of the company, including selling off some operations and taking others public.
"Why are you doing this?"
"The company has gotten too large for me to control, and I want what is best for the employees and the company."
"Do you have health issues?"
"No, next."
"Are you in financial trouble due to your space venture? It appears you are ahead of NASA, and they are a federal agency."
"Have you read the news out of Australia? No, I'm not having any financial issues."
"To restate it, the company is now larger than my span of control. I could turn it over to a high-powered individual who could handle it, or I could downsize. I choose to downsize."
"Which companies are going public and which are being sold?"
"That decision hasn't been finalized yet. I have several management committees analyzing each business unit.
"How much do you expect to make?"
"Until each division is valued, I have no idea."
"When will you know?"
"When my management committees recommend how to dispose of each division, and then select a financial partner to work with."
"What about your employees. How many will lose their jobs."
"One of the criteria I have set is that we will not be selling a division to a company that is a direct competitor, so they have a lot of cross functions. The only cross functions will be high-level accounting and purchasing. We plan to keep them on board at the downsized Jackson Enterprises. We have always operated in a lean fashion at that level."
"I would also like to add to potential investors we will not make ourselves an attractive target for unionization. The unions must take a run at us as this is an opportunity for them. We intend to take care of our employees in all selling contracts, so they do not have to fear layoffs or cuts in pay."
A reporter spoke up, "That's for the first year; we've seen this happen before."
"This will be spelled out to last for at least five years. If a buying company finds itself in financial trouble, I will buy back that division at its selling price to keep my people employed."
"That's hard to believe."
"Frankly, Mr. Reporter, I don't give a damn if you believe. This conference is over."
I loved that finishing touch. It got better later when I learned the reporter's last name is Butler.
Then there were the follow-up interviews. Every major newspaper and television network wanted an interview. An exclusive would be preferred.
Since I had met Walter Cronkite when he went into space, I agreed to talk to him. That was TV, for a newspaper I chose one of Dad's. I'm not completely dense.
Mr. Cronkite had a nice interviewing manner. He let me tell my story without interruptions. After hearing me through, he asked if he could summarize what was going on.
I agreed.
"Rick, it appears your company has grown so large that you feel it is going beyond your control. Rather than let it fail, you are breaking it up."
"That is correct."
"While breaking it up, you are trying to protect all the workers that helped you build the company. Once that is done, you intend to focus on your space program rather than be a playboy."
"Thank you for listening to me. You understand what is driving these decisions."
"One last question?"
"Okay."
"What about May-ling the Crown Princess of China. You have been seen in her company many times. Is there anything between you two?"
"If you find the answer to that, please let me know."
He ended with, "And that's the way it is."
Dad's reporter was also correct in his conclusions. He just wasn't as personable, but then he wasn't in front of a camera.
Other requests kept coming in, but I turned them down. The press conferences didn't stop the speculation. More importantly, it didn't seem to impact the financial world yet.
One night show host gave his opinion that this could be a disaster. I kept getting myself into trouble while running my company. What could I get into without them to take up my time?
He didn't get many laughs.
The Russians didn't help when they tried to extradite me. They kept going to different courts worldwide, but none accepted jurisdiction. The US said, see the UK, the UK said see China, Australia said, go to hell.
I was in a meeting with Jim, and I remembered to ask him if he had set it up that no matter what, Smyth, Wilson, and McTavish would be included in the IPO for the container operation and that I would be funding their share.
He assured me that it was all set up. He had a file with the particulars. He handed it to me for review. One name jumped out at me, Sandra Wilson. It seems she was the last of the Wilsons.
According to the report, she was living off of the last of her family's trust and would be dead broke by the end of the year. Talk about a surprise. She is the young lady giving me the finger because I looked like an old boyfriend.
Now I had to take care of her. Just when I thought I understood life. I told Jim to find a way to push some funds her way. We knew the IPO wouldn't be completed by the end of the year.
He wanted to know why I was doing this, as I didn't seem to care about the Smyths or McTavishes. I told him the story, which he thought was a hoot.
I had second thoughts about the Smyths and McTacishes and told Jim to make certain they were taken care of also. He would arrange an advance based upon a recommendation of the Crown. Let the Queen handle this one.
We let the board of directors of Narrow Freight and Scottish lines know that we intended to let them make the first offer to purchase their respective operations and provide financing if needed.
All we needed was a price evaluation for those operations, and they would be the easiest ones to move.
Both boards sent back enthusiastic responses. I love the Scottish Line board. They even offered to hire me as a deckhand if I needed work.
Don Pearson was just as easy when we talked to him about the Personal Products Division. He only asked that he would be allowed to continue to use, 'By Appointment to the Duke of Hong Kong.'
I told him he could, but he had better keep the quality up. I think he was a little offended that I thought he might let it go down. I assured him I was trying to be funny, but the joke didn't work.
He told me not to worry. He had a better name lined up. Mary Jackson was making it her official hairdryer. Ouch, paybacks are tough. He got me. As far as my bratty sister, she knew how to wind me up.
I flew to Detroit to talk to Mark and Sharon Dawson about what I wanted to do with my share of Detroit Faucet. I had been a silent partner for some years now. I was willing to let it go, and I didn't need to wait for an evaluation of the companies worth.
I sold them my share for one dollar. We had been through a lot together, and I thought of them as family. Now, if it had been Mary, she would have had to pay millions.
Sharon cried while she hugged me. Mark had a goofy grin. When they calmed down, they told me that Sharon was expecting again, and if it was a boy this time, they had already decided to name him Richard Jackson Downing.
It was my turn to tear up.
We had a wonderful dinner at the same restaurant we had our original meeting at. They told me that Anna Romanov and her line of specialty items were doing better than ever during dinner. Sales would go up every time she was in a movie.
I called Colonel Frade about Howell, and as I expected, he told me he wanted to buy me out. As soon as we could get the company appraised, we would complete the sale. I did ask him how his family was doing.
He told me they were fine. His only regret was that he had chased me out of Argentina. He should have had a shotgun wedding.
Sometimes you get lucky, and you don't even know it.
Chapter 8
Since it was still several weeks before the moon landing and I had done what I could in the divestiture project, I decided to head to Australia to check up on the two stations.
I planned to be in China at the launch center for the landing. Early arrival would give me a chance to adapt to the time change. No matter how many times I had done it, it never seemed to get easier.
My first two days were spent in Sydney checking up on my household. Jeeves had it all under control. It seemed strange to wake up in the morning, go to the bathroom and come out to coffee and toast waiting for me in my sitting area.
After taking a shower and using my Jackson brand hairdryer, I dressed in the clothes that Harold had laid out, then went down to a full breakfast buffet.
There would be the daily papers waiting for me at the table. I noticed these hadn't been ironed. I thought about tweaking Jeeves about it but decided I might live to regret it.
Once breakfast was finished, I would adjourn to my office, where my day's first appointment was waiting. I could get used to this life.
Waiting for me were the engineers who had drilled the water wells. They had additional information for me about the water source.
We had been working on assuming that the water was from a huge groundwater pocket that had been accumulating for thousands of years, if not longer.
Once the wells had been drilled, the pockets of gas created by the layer of oil were forcing the water up. Now that they had more information, they had formed a different opinion.
After exchanging information with the oil exploration people, it became apparent that the oil was not situated to produce the amount of pressure we were seeing. There was a lot of oil, just not in the right place.
Their new theory was an underground river flowing south from the Darwin region. If this was true, we had an almost inexhaustible source of water that could open up the entire Australian interior.
I asked how this could be proved. Silly me, it would only take money. The water people wanted to drill wells to establish the river path. I permitted them to drill wells to the north on my property.
The first wells would be in an arc north of the main body of water. Hopefully, the arc would narrow down to a straight line north if they were correct.
If an underground river course were identified, I would start buying land to the north like crazy. I asked them to keep this quiet but didn't go so far as to demand NDAs be signed.
I wanted the land and water if it was there, but when it became public, which it would, I didn't want to come across as greedy and grasping. Well, maybe a little bit greedy.
Next up on my agenda was oil. The test wells had been finished, and it was confirmed as the largest find in Australia, rivaling the Texas oilfield. They didn't think it would surpass Saudia Arabia, but it might approach it.
They informed me that several wildcatters were working on the fringes of my property. I told them not to interfere. Something about those risk-takers made them feel akin to me. I wished them well. It turned out I wasn't that greedy.
Now that the oilfield had been mapped out, it was time to start drilling seriously. Once more, all it would take was money. Fortunately, I seemed to have a lot of it.
They presented a drilling plan for the placement of wells. They had plans for storage and transportation in place. They even asked if I had considered building a refinery.
I told them, of course, I had and that it was part of the long-term plan. Once the wells were producing, crude oil would be piped to the coast. Then we would start on that project.
I didn't tell them I had never given any thought to a refinery until they mentioned it. My consideration period was when they stopped talking until I opened my mouth.
Now that I had a moment to think, I added.
"Here in the outback, away from housing is the best place to put such an operation. While large enough to create a bother near cities, it won't be a blip here. Not even the Aboriginals will be disturbed by it.
I made a mental note to confirm my thoughts with the local Aboriginals.
They did have a concern about the pipeline. There had been no progress on laying one out between different federal and state departments and environmental groups.
I replied, "I will look into it, but I'm afraid we will have to let nature take its course."
They weren't thrilled to hear that as it would delay getting the product to market, but they couldn't do much else.
I didn't tell them that Dad and I had discussed this very issue while in America. The only way around this we could see was sending oil by rail.
To this end, I had commissioned my land company to start surveying an extension of the railway from our station to Alice Springs. From there, it would be a narrow-gauge track to Tarcoola to join the trans-Australian.
I made certain this information would leak to the press. Let the politicians stick that in their pipe and smoke it. The pipeline would be best, but it seemed prudent to develop an alternate route.
This meeting took me up to lunchtime. My lunch was served on the veranda on this pleasant Australian summer day.
After lunch, gold was on the agenda. Sheila Armstrong had come to update me. She was in town for other reasons, and her next stop would be back at the goldfield.
The security fencing was now in place, with guards patrolling the perimeter. The guards were all part of the aboriginal workforce so that no one would get by them in the desert.
All the mining equipment was in place, and water had been trucked in from the first wells. It had taken hundreds of truckloads to fill the retention pond.
These truckloads of water would run through the wash plant. Ore had been sent through the crusher and was waiting to feed into the trommel. The trommel and wash plant both were due to be started tomorrow.
Housing was being put in place for the on-site workforce. Most gold operations were temporary, using travel trailers or even tents. This site was to be a permanent operation, or at least for the next one hundred years or so.
One thing that hadn't been established with the goldfield was how deep it ran. We knew its length, width, and height above ground but not how far down it went. If it were as deep as it was high, it would last for two centuries. I didn't even try to calculate its possible worth.
The smelter was constructed, and a vault to store the finished gold bars. We hadn't decided how to ship them to Canberra for storage. The Australian Royal Mint was almost finished being constructed, and that is where the government wanted us to ship their share of the gold and our taxes on our share, which we had agreed to pay in kind.
We didn't have a plan for what to do with our share of the gold. I was all for selling it to all comers freight on board, to be picked up here.
That is, they would be responsible for its transportation, and they owned it the moment it was loaded onto their vehicles, whether it was a truck, train, or plane. Or even a ship, but that one was hard to fathom. Pun intended.
All payments were to be in hard currencies. We would be using the Royal Bank of Australia as our clearinghouse. I had briefly thought of opening a bank to handle the transactions.
Mum and Dad both discouraged that. Their thinking was that I was having an enormous effect on the Australian economy. I should leave something on the table for the Australians.
That made sense. I didn't want to become a national boogieman. Besides, I was trying to divest companies, not create more.
What I thought was neat was that the smelter would stamp each bar with my coat of arms.
Sheila and I spent the entire afternoon on the gold operation. I invited her to dinner, but she had a prior engagement.
The time zone changes caught up with me, and I called it an early evening and was in bed by eight o'clock. That meant I was wide awake at four am.
I went for a long run in the dark. I don't know why I was surprised when the police pulled me over. The police must have thought I was a thief on the run.
I had picked up one good habit along the way. I always had a passport with me. They cautioned me of the dangers of running alone in this area in the dark and let me go.
I wonder if I can get Jeeves to run with me?
Chapter 9
Updates in an office are one thing. Walking the ground another. I had planned to make a trip to Lasseter station before coming to Australia.
The next morning, I hogged the left seat of the DC3, so I could remain current in that aircraft and flew out to Lasseter. By this time, I had a choice of two landing strips, the one at the water drilling site or the goldfield.
Since I planned to check out the water situation first, I landed there. The site managers even had the control tower manned. It seemed like reporters or other nosey parkers were flying in every day.
It was a typical January day in the outback. One hundred and four degrees with ten percent humidity. It hadn't rained here in at least thirty years.
There was a field office set up, so I checked in there. They had a map of the entire station with all the current well sites.
They were also surveying the land to see what was arable. Most of the station wasn't useable for crops or grazing. Even with water, it couldn't be used. This land was bare rock covered with sand or dunes that would drift back in if removed.
Still, I was told that tens of thousands of acres could be plowed and planted if water was made available. They recommended that a circular irrigation system be put in like those used in the western United States. Even for the land used for grazing.
The heat was so bad that the livestock wouldn't survive without being cooled. I tried to picture the irrigation system circling the field and the cattle following it around to keep the cool spray on them. That would be a sight to behold.
One concern that would have to be addressed was wild dog packs. These would have to be eradicated. We wouldn't have to fence the fields as the cattle would stay with the grass and water.
Our initial plan was to start with fifty of these circular fields and see how they worked. We even decided to put in CCTV. A field office would monitor the cameras swiveling to survey the whole field.
Each field would have a pole barn shelter for the cattle. Thinking of sand storms, we placed a closed side to the prevailing winds and half of the adjacent sides. There would be water troughs in the pole barn and around the fields.
The field office would also house a veterinarian's office. We would need three vets on staff to handle the first herd of five thousand cattle. That would be one hundred heads per each of the fifty fields.
In the future, it was estimated we could have five hundred fields. This station would rival those of Argentina.
There would also be random patrols for security.
A separate group of stockmen, Jackaroos and Jillaroos, would watch the herds. This station was going to be a major operation. It would rate separate slaughter and butchering facilities. We would ship the meat out by railway in refrigerated cars.
This ranch would end up larger than Jackson Station in Queensland. I would have to get Ron Ferguson's input on this station. His station would be our model.
There would be a thousand miles of sixteen-inch pipe to distribute the water around the ranch. The US Steel plant in Lorain, Ohio, would be providing seamless pipe for the station. It could be used for water or oil.
They shipped piping worldwide and maintained stock in Australia to get what we needed immediately. I even thought about opening a pipe plant here but shut that thought down. I was divesting, not investing.
I moved on from the water field to the oil field. There wasn't as much to see there. Drilling rigs were all over the place. Several even had permanent pumps with storage tanks.
There was a tank farm being put in place. The tanks were the floating top atmospheric type. They had to explain what they were. I had seen floating roof tanks from the air, but now I understood it was to keep gases coming off the crude oil contained.
These tanks were huge. They were eighty-eight meters in diameter and twenty meters tall. They were made from carbon steel for strength. Each tank could hold thirty-two million gallons. We were starting with ten of them!
I could see that we would keep US Steel in business for some time to come as they made the miles of pipe needed.
I also began to see the urgency in getting Canberra off its butt. We would be sitting on a sea of oil.
Our oil had been classified as sweet, low sulfur content, the same as West Texas Intermediate (WTI). This grade is desirable and easy to distill into gasoline and allied products.
There would be a headquarters building here for the administrative staff. There would have to be housing as people couldn't fly back and forth every day. Since what I thought of as the water field was only ten miles away, they would host the amenities, and this would be a bedroom community.
Since there would be quite a few roughnecks that would come and go, we had to have a barracks for them. Facing reality, they had to have a recreation center that included a bar. I was resistant to having a brothel on the station, but I knew that one would appear as an open secret.
It was too early for the conversation, but when the time came, I intended to tell security if the brothel caused no problems to let it be. The one thing I wouldn't tolerate was the drug trade. That was to be rooted out and destroyed.
If it took a few deep graves in the great outback, so be it.
Each of the sites, cattle, water, oil, and gold would have an infirmary. Anything serious would be airlifted out, but there would be broken bones along with various illnesses.
I saw a pattern developing. Each time I visited an area, I saw a need for another infrastructure facility. I suspected that it would take several trips around the stations to identify the needs. Or maybe I should find a town planner?
Here on this station, I needed a town and three satellite villages. The cattle operation would be so spread out that it could be combined with the water field. I didn't want it in the goldfield because of security or the oil patch because of overall safety.
Heh, who needs a town planner? As I continued to add to my list of needs, I realized that I needed a town planner once more. I didn't want this operation to grow like the disorganized mess of an old west mining camp.
I moved on to what Tony called the goldfield. Driving me around, he was my first taxi driver and mayor of the aboriginal contingent or the Blackfellas.
He could do that because he was one of them. I felt uncomfortable using the term, although I had done it frequently. He told me once more that it was okay, just don't call him an Abbo.
When we drove into the main gold camp, there was a disturbance. A man was shouting orders to two security guards, and they were looking at him as though they had no idea what to do with him.
I had Tony pull over. The guy recognized me as he came over to me right away.
"Good, tell these nitwits that I need a large tent put up with chairs for my revival."
"Revival?"
"Yes, I'm a man of God, and I'm here to save these heathens!"
I turned to one of the guards, "How did he get here?"
"He hitched a ride on a supply truck and was inside the gate before we knew he was an intruder. He has been ranting and raving at us to do things for him. We were about to send him away when you showed up."
"Take him to the gate and shove him out."
"Into the desert?"
"No, I guess we can't do that. Put the preacher on a truck to the water field, and then the next flight out. Do you have handcuffs?"
"Yes, the boys need to be controlled some nights until they sleep it off."
That answered booze being available.
"Cuff him and get him out of here."
He began shouting, "You can't do that. I'm a man of God."
They hauled him away, him shouting until he was out of sight. Here I thought the Priest on the estancia was pushy.
For some reason, I was mentally exhausted even though it wasn't that late in the day. I had them land the DC3 at this landing strip as it was making a run back to Sydney and went home to bed.
Chapter 10
Feeling better the next morning, I flew back to the station. I hadn't had a chance yesterday to check on what we were providing the Blackfellas.
I had made some promises, and I intended to keep them. Tony was waiting for me as we landed. He must have a good network because I hadn't told him when I would return.
We went to see the elders. They didn't look unhappy, which I took as a good sign.
"Honored Elders, has everything been done that I promised?"
"They have. We are pleased with the housing that has been provided."
These weren't the permanent housing we provided at the gold reef. The Elders had requested that a small camp be put up about five miles from the main site. That was for those wanting to maintain a more traditional lifestyle.