vital stake in natural resources, Jim, such as iron ore. The public can’t remain indifferent to reckless, selfish waste by an anti-social individual. After all, private property is a trusteeship held for the benefit of society as a whole.”
Taggart glanced at Boyle and smiled; the smile was pointed, it seemed to say that something in his words was an answer to something in the words of Boyle. “The liquor they serve here is swill. I suppose that’s the price we have to pay for not being crowded by all kinds of rabble. But I do wish they’d recognize that they’re dealing with experts. Since I hold the purse strings, I expect to get my money’s worth and at my pleasure.”
Boyle did not answer; his face had become sullen. “Listen, Jim ...” he began heavily.
Taggart smiled. “What? I’m listening.”
“Jim, you will agree, I’m sure, that there’s nothing more destructive than a monopoly.”
“Yes,” said Taggart, “on the one hand. On the other, there’s the blight of unbridled competition.”
“That’s true. That’s very true. The proper course is always, in my opinion, in the middle. So it is, I think, the duty of society to snip the extremes, now isn’t it?”
“Yes,” said Taggart, “it is.”
“Consider the picture in the iron-ore business. The national output seems to be falling at an ungodly rate. It threatens the existence of the whole steel industry. Steel mills are shutting down all over the country. There’s only one mining company that’s lucky enough not to be affected by the general conditions. Its output seems to be plentiful and always available on schedule. But who gets the benefit of it? Nobody except its owner. Would you say that that’s fair?”
“No,” said Taggart, “it isn’t fair.”
“Most of us don’t own iron mines. How can we compete with a man who’s got a corner on God’s natural resources? Is it any wonder that he can always deliver steel, while we have to struggle and wait and lose our customers and go out of business? Is it in the public interest to let one man destroy an entire industry?”
“No,” said Taggart, “it isn’t.”
“It seems to me that the national policy ought to be aimed at the objective of giving everybody a chance at his fair share of iron ore, with a view toward the preservation of the industry as a whole. Don’t you think so?”
“I think so.”
Boyle sighed. Then he said cautiously, “But I guess there aren’t many people in Washington capable of understanding a progressive social policy.”
Taggart said slowly, “There are. No, not many and not easy to approach, but there are. I might speak to them.”
Boyle picked up his drink and swallowed it in one gulp, as if he had heard all he had wanted to hear.
“Speaking of progressive policies, Orren,” said Taggart, “you might ask yourself whether at a time of transportation shortages, when so many railroads are going bankrupt and large areas are left without rail service, whether it is in the public interest to tolerate wasteful duplication of services and the destructive, dog-eat-dog competition of newcomers in territories where established companies have historical priority.”
“Well, now,” said Boyle pleasantly, “that seems to be an interesting question to consider. I might discuss it with a few friends in the National Alliance of Railroads.”
“Friendships,” said Taggart in the tone of an idle abstraction, “are more valuable than gold.” Unexpectedly, he turned to Larkin. “Don’t you think so, Paul?”
“Why ... yes,” said Larkin, astonished. “Yes, of course.”
“I am counting on yours.”
“Huh?”
“I am counting on your many friendships.”
They all seemed to know why Larkin did not answer at once; his shoulders seemed to shrink down, closer to the table. “If everybody could pull for a common purpose, then nobody would have to be hurt!” he cried suddenly, in a tone of incongruous despair; he saw Taggart watching him
Taggart glanced at Boyle and smiled; the smile was pointed, it seemed to say that something in his words was an answer to something in the words of Boyle. “The liquor they serve here is swill. I suppose that’s the price we have to pay for not being crowded by all kinds of rabble. But I do wish they’d recognize that they’re dealing with experts. Since I hold the purse strings, I expect to get my money’s worth and at my pleasure.”
Boyle did not answer; his face had become sullen. “Listen, Jim ...” he began heavily.
Taggart smiled. “What? I’m listening.”
“Jim, you will agree, I’m sure, that there’s nothing more destructive than a monopoly.”
“Yes,” said Taggart, “on the one hand. On the other, there’s the blight of unbridled competition.”
“That’s true. That’s very true. The proper course is always, in my opinion, in the middle. So it is, I think, the duty of society to snip the extremes, now isn’t it?”
“Yes,” said Taggart, “it is.”
“Consider the picture in the iron-ore business. The national output seems to be falling at an ungodly rate. It threatens the existence of the whole steel industry. Steel mills are shutting down all over the country. There’s only one mining company that’s lucky enough not to be affected by the general conditions. Its output seems to be plentiful and always available on schedule. But who gets the benefit of it? Nobody except its owner. Would you say that that’s fair?”
“No,” said Taggart, “it isn’t fair.”
“Most of us don’t own iron mines. How can we compete with a man who’s got a corner on God’s natural resources? Is it any wonder that he can always deliver steel, while we have to struggle and wait and lose our customers and go out of business? Is it in the public interest to let one man destroy an entire industry?”
“No,” said Taggart, “it isn’t.”
“It seems to me that the national policy ought to be aimed at the objective of giving everybody a chance at his fair share of iron ore, with a view toward the preservation of the industry as a whole. Don’t you think so?”
“I think so.”
Boyle sighed. Then he said cautiously, “But I guess there aren’t many people in Washington capable of understanding a progressive social policy.”
Taggart said slowly, “There are. No, not many and not easy to approach, but there are. I might speak to them.”
Boyle picked up his drink and swallowed it in one gulp, as if he had heard all he had wanted to hear.
“Speaking of progressive policies, Orren,” said Taggart, “you might ask yourself whether at a time of transportation shortages, when so many railroads are going bankrupt and large areas are left without rail service, whether it is in the public interest to tolerate wasteful duplication of services and the destructive, dog-eat-dog competition of newcomers in territories where established companies have historical priority.”
“Well, now,” said Boyle pleasantly, “that seems to be an interesting question to consider. I might discuss it with a few friends in the National Alliance of Railroads.”
“Friendships,” said Taggart in the tone of an idle abstraction, “are more valuable than gold.” Unexpectedly, he turned to Larkin. “Don’t you think so, Paul?”
“Why ... yes,” said Larkin, astonished. “Yes, of course.”
“I am counting on yours.”
“Huh?”
“I am counting on your many friendships.”
They all seemed to know why Larkin did not answer at once; his shoulders seemed to shrink down, closer to the table. “If everybody could pull for a common purpose, then nobody would have to be hurt!” he cried suddenly, in a tone of incongruous despair; he saw Taggart watching him
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