Who's That With Charlie?. Charles S. Mechem

hard and said, “Sir, I really think that’s too much money to be keeping in your safe. You should have it working for you at a bank or whatever.” At this point his voice got stronger and he said, “Let me explain something to you, young man. There was a time during the Great Depression that the banks closed and I was unable to raise enough cash to pay my employees, and that lasted for a whole two-week pay period. That was the most embarrassing thing that I had ever experienced, and I vowed that I would never let it happen again. That $300,000 is the amount I would need to meet a payday, and there is nothing that you or anybody else can say to make me take it out of that safe.”

      That comment has never really left my mind. Another lesson learned: Those who went through the Great Depression, including my own father, never really recovered from it in terms of their trust in the stability of our system. It led that generation to be watchful and careful and probably led to building more great businesses and organizations than anyone will ever know.

      PERHAPS THE STRANGEST matter that I ever was involved in as a lawyer was being caught up in the great Northeastern blackout of 1965. Our firm represented the First National Bank of Cincinnati. One of its senior loan officers, Rolf Brooks, received a subpoena to appear before a grand jury at the District Attorney’s office for the Southern District of New York at Foley Square in downtown Manhattan. I don’t remember the purpose of the subpoena, but one never takes that sort of thing lightly. I do remember Rolf being concerned and anxious to appear and testify. We flew to New York on the night before we were to appear at the District Attorney’s office. Midway into the flight the pilot came on the intercom and said that we had an emergency, namely that there was a massive blackout covering the whole New York City area and that, of course, all of the airports were closed. He said we would land in Philadelphia, and the airline would arrange bus transportation to the New York Port Authority Bus Terminal in Manhattan. We got off the plane and onto the bus and began the journey to Manhattan. But first I called the old Statler Hotel in New York City, where we had room reservations, and asked them to please hold our rooms, that we were on our way. Somewhat surprisingly they agreed to do so. We arrived at the bus terminal, and when we walked outside the building it was an eerie sight, to say the least. The only light came from automobile headlights and several people using newspaper torches to try and direct traffic. New Yorkers can always be expected to move into action quickly in times of emergency, and they were certainly doing so that night.

      We struggled but succeeded in getting a cab. It was not cheap, proving that the law of supply and demand was alive and well! I had called the Statler several more times, and they assured me that our rooms were available. When we finally got to the Statler, we found a chaotic scene. Candles were burning throughout the lobby, and hundreds of people were sleeping on couches, chairs, and anywhere they could lie down. We went to the desk and learned that one of our rooms was still available but that they had felt it necessary to sell the second room. This was not a problem for us—we were surprised and delighted to have any room at all. I’ll never forget the clerk looking up and saying, “Gentlemen, you will, of course, need to walk up the stairs to your room because the elevators aren’t working. So, here are two candles to help you find your way.” I can’t remember now what floor our room was on, but I think it was the eighth or ninth. In any case, as we started walking up the stairs, we again found people sleeping everywhere, many of whom asked if they could please share our room. We declined, pointing out that we were already sharing! We finally got to our room and fell into bed around 1:00 a.m. At around 4:00 or 5:00 a.m. all the lights came back on and wakened us even though we’d only had a few hours of sleep. We rested for another couple of hours and then got up, dressed, and went down to confront the day.

      Things were still chaotic. There was little if any food for breakfast, and taxi cabs were nowhere to be found. The cab drivers had obviously made a fortune during the night and had gone home to bed. We finally managed to get a hard-boiled egg, toast, and coffee and began to make our way downtown to Foley Square. We took two or three different buses and finally arrived at the District Attorney’s office at around 8:30 or 8:45 a.m.

      Golfing with Coach Paul Brown and Jim Brown, regarded by many as the greatest running back in the history of the National Football League.

      The District Attorney, somewhat surprisingly, was in his office, and when we entered and introduced ourselves he was noticeably shocked. “How in the world did you two get here from Cincinnati, Ohio?” he asked. We explained and noted that we were in total compliance with the subpoena. He agreed but told us that he doubted if he would be able to get a quorum of the grand jury that morning because New York’s communication and transportation systems were chaotic to say the least. He asked if we would be willing to postpone our appearance. I pointed out that we had gone beyond any reasonable effort to comply with the subpoena, and we were not disposed to postpone our appearance. I pointed out that Rolf was prepared to testify and expected to do so.

      The District Attorney excused himself, conferred with a couple of his aides, rejoined us, and said that if Rolf would give a brief affidavit describing his knowledge of the matter the grand jury was investigating, he would consider us in compliance with the subpoena and dismiss Rolf from any further involvement in the case. We accepted his deal, provided a brief affidavit, and headed for home!

      Funny how this momentous tragedy worked out to our distinct advantage.

      WHEN I WAS a young lawyer I was assigned to an antitrust case that a small manufacturer of roofing materials in Meridian, Mississippi, brought against seven or eight of the largest roofing-material manufacturers in the country, charging an antitrust violation. We were legal counsel to one of these companies. The plaintiff argued that these companies were attempting to force him out of the business through conspiracy and predatory pricing practices. I spent a great amount of time in Meridian and in Jackson, Mississippi, working on the case. The deeper we got into it, the more troubling it became, and we began to take the case more seriously.

      The case, as I recall, was filed in a federal court in Tennessee. We did some homework and came to the conclusion that we didn’t want the case in that particular court. So we filed a motion for a change of venue, hoping to have the case removed to a friendlier tribunal. The motion was set for oral argument in the Tennessee federal court. Because of the importance of the matter, each of the defendants sent in its general counsel as well as its local counsel. When we walked into the courtroom there were fifteen or twenty defendants’ lawyers lined up in the first couple of rows.

      We had met previously and agreed that our case should be argued by a gentleman named Porter Chandler, who was with a large New York firm and was widely regarded as one of the finest trial lawyers in America. When our case was called, the judge said something like this: “I have reviewed this matter carefully, and I am convinced that the change of venue should not be granted. If, however, you wish to comment or make any statement, you may do so at this time.” Porter Chandler, who was about six four and a very impressive gentleman, rose, walked to the front of the courtroom, and addressed the judge. “Your honor, we of course regret your decision, but we will not argue the matter further. I would, however, like to make a brief statement. I am compelled to observe, to paraphrase Winston Churchill, that never have so many come so far, been paid so much, and done so little.”* We all (including the judge) had a good laugh, and we all went on our way.

      ONE DAY I was called into the office of the firm’s senior partner, Charles Sawyer, who was related to the Gamble family of Procter & Gamble fame. He told me that one of the granddaughters of James Gamble (one of the original founders of that great company along with William Procter) had passed away and that our firm was handling her estate. He wanted me to work with him on the estate, and the most immediate thing I needed to do was go to the bank and meet the tax official who would be making the customary visit to the deceased’s safe deposit box,