.”
"Okay," Adam said. "Are you ready now .”
"About ten minutes. I'll call you .”
Waiting, Adam emptied his attacb6 case of last night's work, then used a dictating machine to leave a series of instructions for his secretary, Ursula Cox, who would deal with them with predictable efficiency when she came in. Most of Adam's homework, as well as the instructions, concerned the Orion. In his role as Advanced Vehicles Planning Manager he was deeply in volved with the new, still-secret car, and today a critical series of tests involving a noise-vibration problem with the Orion would be reviewed at the company's proving ground thirty miles outside Detroit. Adam, who would have to make a decision afterward, had agreed to drive to the test review with a colleague from Design-Styling. Now, because of the press conference just called, one of Ursula's instructions was to reschedule the proving ground arrangements for later in the day. He had better, Adam decided, reread the Emerson Vale news story before the press session started. Along with the pile of mail outside were some morning newspapers. He collected a Free Press and a New York Times, then returned to his office and spread them out, this time memorizing, point by point, what Vale had said in Washington the day before. Adam had met Emerson Vale once when the auto critic was in Detroit to make a speech. Like several others from the industry, Adam Trenton had attended out of curiosity and, on being introduced to Vale ahead of the meeting, was surprised to find him an engagingly pleasant young man, not in the least the brash, abrasive figure Adam had expected. Later, when Vale faced his audience from the platform, he was equally personable, speaking fluently and easily while marshaling arguments with skill. The entire presentation, Adam was forced to admit, was impressive and, from the applause afterward, a large part of the audience-which had paid for admission-felt the same way. There was one shortcoming. To anyone with specialized knowledge, many of Emerson Vale's arguments were as porous as a leaky boat. While attacking a highly technical industry, Vale betrayed his own lack of technical know-how and was frequently in error in describing mechanical functions. His engineering pronouncements were capable of several interpretations; Vale gave one, which suited his own viewpoint. At other moments he dealt in generalities. Even though trained in law, Emerson Vale ignored elementary rules of evidence. He offered assertion, hearsay, unsupported evidence as f act; occasionally the young auto critic-it seemed to Adam-distorted f acts deliberately. He resurrected the past, listing faults in cars which manufacturers had long since admitted and rectified. He presented charges based on no more than his own mail from disgruntled car users. While excoriating the auto industry for bad design, poor workmanship, and lack of safety features, Vale acknowledged none of the industry's problems nor recent genuine attempts to improve its ways. He failed to see anything good in auto manufacturers and their people, only indifference, neglect, and villainy. Emerson Vale had published a book, its title: The American Car: Unsure in Any Need. The book was skillfully written, with the attention commanding quality which the author himself possessed, and it proved a bestseller which kept Vale in the spotlight of public attention for many months. But subsequently, because there seemed little more for him to say, Emerson Vale began dropping out of sight. His name appeared in newspapers less frequently, then, for a while, not at all. This lack of attention goaded Vale to new activity. Craving publicity like a drug, he seemed willing to make any statement on any subject, in return for keeping his name before the public. Describing himself as "a consumers' spokesman," he launched a fresh series of attacks on the auto industry, alleging design defects in specific cars, which the press reported, though some were
"Okay," Adam said. "Are you ready now .”
"About ten minutes. I'll call you .”
Waiting, Adam emptied his attacb6 case of last night's work, then used a dictating machine to leave a series of instructions for his secretary, Ursula Cox, who would deal with them with predictable efficiency when she came in. Most of Adam's homework, as well as the instructions, concerned the Orion. In his role as Advanced Vehicles Planning Manager he was deeply in volved with the new, still-secret car, and today a critical series of tests involving a noise-vibration problem with the Orion would be reviewed at the company's proving ground thirty miles outside Detroit. Adam, who would have to make a decision afterward, had agreed to drive to the test review with a colleague from Design-Styling. Now, because of the press conference just called, one of Ursula's instructions was to reschedule the proving ground arrangements for later in the day. He had better, Adam decided, reread the Emerson Vale news story before the press session started. Along with the pile of mail outside were some morning newspapers. He collected a Free Press and a New York Times, then returned to his office and spread them out, this time memorizing, point by point, what Vale had said in Washington the day before. Adam had met Emerson Vale once when the auto critic was in Detroit to make a speech. Like several others from the industry, Adam Trenton had attended out of curiosity and, on being introduced to Vale ahead of the meeting, was surprised to find him an engagingly pleasant young man, not in the least the brash, abrasive figure Adam had expected. Later, when Vale faced his audience from the platform, he was equally personable, speaking fluently and easily while marshaling arguments with skill. The entire presentation, Adam was forced to admit, was impressive and, from the applause afterward, a large part of the audience-which had paid for admission-felt the same way. There was one shortcoming. To anyone with specialized knowledge, many of Emerson Vale's arguments were as porous as a leaky boat. While attacking a highly technical industry, Vale betrayed his own lack of technical know-how and was frequently in error in describing mechanical functions. His engineering pronouncements were capable of several interpretations; Vale gave one, which suited his own viewpoint. At other moments he dealt in generalities. Even though trained in law, Emerson Vale ignored elementary rules of evidence. He offered assertion, hearsay, unsupported evidence as f act; occasionally the young auto critic-it seemed to Adam-distorted f acts deliberately. He resurrected the past, listing faults in cars which manufacturers had long since admitted and rectified. He presented charges based on no more than his own mail from disgruntled car users. While excoriating the auto industry for bad design, poor workmanship, and lack of safety features, Vale acknowledged none of the industry's problems nor recent genuine attempts to improve its ways. He failed to see anything good in auto manufacturers and their people, only indifference, neglect, and villainy. Emerson Vale had published a book, its title: The American Car: Unsure in Any Need. The book was skillfully written, with the attention commanding quality which the author himself possessed, and it proved a bestseller which kept Vale in the spotlight of public attention for many months. But subsequently, because there seemed little more for him to say, Emerson Vale began dropping out of sight. His name appeared in newspapers less frequently, then, for a while, not at all. This lack of attention goaded Vale to new activity. Craving publicity like a drug, he seemed willing to make any statement on any subject, in return for keeping his name before the public. Describing himself as "a consumers' spokesman," he launched a fresh series of attacks on the auto industry, alleging design defects in specific cars, which the press reported, though some were
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