By Joel Byron Barker
Even old Senator Kilby knew that it would be a new and challenging world for everyone.
For six months, the government purchased television spots, newspaper ads, and of course billboards to promote the date. If for some reason a driver had not heard about the court battle or the Senate battle before that on the Clear and Sane Roads bill — promptly shortened to CSR by pundits and headline writers — then they would most certainly have been unable to miss the largest concerted advertising campaign up to that time. Kilby wanted to give everyone a fair chance—and no excuses.
To the pundits and speech writers, CSR was born out of exhaustion with the world as it was. A world where we spoke of fidelity but thought only of promiscuity. Where we claimed fealty but acted only in our own interest. Where laws were threatened but never enforced. The message resonated deep in the hearts of America’s Mothers, America’s Law Enforcement Industry, and America’s Disenfranchised Old People.
CSR was not without controversy, but its supporters were many. Its supporters were true believers. Its supporters were vocal and accepted instruction well.
The good Senator from Delaware was an old man, but not ignorant to the changes in the world. He was surprisingly spry when it came to technology. He had a computer at home, an Apple II, which he used for writing speeches as well as a reported obsession with Oregon Trail. He often compared his Oregon Trail games with his younger staffers. They in turn played more Oregon Trail so that they would have material for chats with “The Old Dysentery.”
It was just lucky chance for Carl Stoner that Kilby was in the Oregon Trail headspace. Carl just needed a senator, deeply entrenched, who wanted one last great bill.
Carl, a 6’5″ ghost of a man, was as gentlemanly as anyone could expect from a man raised in the mid-upper crust of Los Angeles. He had spent his first few years in DC living well outside the beltway and had learned a great deal about the South from this Southern town. He gave respect until people demonstrated that they did not deserve it.
Carl’s client was the second largest insurance provider (as calculated by dollar value of all contracts) in the United States. They wanted to be the first largest provider. They hired Carl to help get them there.
Within the headquarters of the second largest insurance provider in the US, an executive vice president was trying to think of how to impress the board that he had what it took to be the next chief executive (often termed the CEO). The current CEO was showing signs of age, but had not done anything drastically wrong. If he was replaced in a situation that was not traumatic, it was possible that the board would select someone from within the organization instead of going to a heroic CEO from the outside.
One year ago in 1982, this senior VP (named Don) was walking small circles around the elevator on the way to his office. “I could make us number one.” he thought. The elevator opened and he walked towards his office. “Is there any way to overcome the market leader?” Don had an MBA and recalled in a class once talking about how market leaders are made. He recalled that an established market leader rarely lost their lead without some change in the rulebook.
He decided to change the rulebook. “All we need is a change in the insurance market and we will be ahead of them.”
What needs to change? Cars themselves? Roads? Rules of the Road! If they could change the rules of the road, they could eliminate their competitor’s competitive advantage. If we wrote the bill, we can claim those customers before anyone knows.
So Don created this idea all on his own. He proffered it to the board one sunny day in their traditional quarterly meeting room, a windowless office appointed in the latest contemporary office style for ’82. All the men of the board sat together, thirteen suited fellows at a table, smiling and laughing. They liked to be in each other’s company and each enjoyed the moment when the other twelve turned and quieted down to listen to him alone.
Don had asked to make a presentation, updating the board on growth strategies in Personal Insurance. Behind a couple of pie charts on his flip chart, he had a page that simply read “Legislative Agenda, 1983.”
At the and of the presentation, all thirteen men felt it necessary to say at least one thing, whether it was a question built around a special word or a sentence that started with, “In my experience…” Don had achieved agreement for his plan. The stenographer was directed to restate the conversation simply as “Corporation management updated the board on the ongoing legislative agenda.”
Don had needed to speak with Carl prior to the presentation. The two had met for lunch one afternoon at an Arctic Circle Restaurant near to the The Second Largest Insurance Company in America’s Corporate Headquarters. Carl was in Salt Lake City because The United States Congress was in recess while the members returned to their states to campaign. It was early fall, 1982.
Carl took that as an opportunity to travel about and visit his clients. He had scheduled three days in Salt Lake City to make a presentation for the senior leadership and then make himself available for hushed lunches such as this. The two sat on colorful plastic chairs outside the restaurant. Carl had a burger in front of him. Don had a halibut sandwich.
“It could be done.” Carl said, “We would use the safety angle, I think. Get moms with injured children. Follow them with some white coated researcher types to show how we can make sure that there are no more Mrs. Frafanoogles who lose their daughters too young.”
Don felt, in the back of his throat, an excitement building. This was all so interesting and new to him, but he felt that he could be really good at it. “I was thinking about it as an offering to the sanity of America.”
Carl briefly forgot himself and took an open-mouthed chew. He swallowed while Don actively paused and stared, his eyes a pathway straight into the curious sense of purity and excitement that Don had found while talking to Carl. Carl glanced over Don’s shoulder at the giant colorful chicken behind Don that contained the speaker and microphone of the drive-through.
Carl thought that Don and the chicken briefly had the same expression about the eyes. Don followed Carl’s gaze self-consciously. It was a relief to Carl that Don’s eye-popping subsided when his concentration broke.
“The sanity of America. I guess I am not seeing it.” Carl stopped himself from saying any more by putting the burger back into his mouth.
“Yes, look. A young boy in the back seat, watching his dad drive. He is, say 10 years old and emulates his father whenever he can, so he watches dad carefully. Here he is, driving. Someday, the boy thinks, I will drive—like my father, right? He looks at the speedometer, then he looks at a sign they pass. Speed limit fifty-five. He looks back at the dashboard. Speed, sixty. ‘Dad! You’re going too fast!’ His dad is breaking a rule! Oh no! But dad says ‘Its alright son, everyone does it.’ So, the boy thinks, we don’t follow rules and everyone KNOWS that we don’t follow rules, but the rules are still there. Is that true of all rules? How do I know which rules to follow? It drives us all just a little bit crazy. Don’t you see, Carl? Everybody thinks about this but nobody says anything because nobody else is saying anything so we all think that it is only us, that we are alone in feeling that THIS WORLD MAKES NO SENSE.”
Don crushes a fry repeatedly against his tray to emphasize every word. Carl briefly wonders if Don is emphasizing each word—each container of meaning—or each syllable—each musical, metrical unit. He consciously adjusts his facial expression and glances only briefly at the chicken, then back to Don.
“Everyone is thinking ‘either the whole world is insane, or I am insane.’ Everyone pushes this thought away every day, they brush their teeth and get on with it. But here, this unresolved nugget remains. When is a rule a rule? When is it a giant convenient lie? We can offer clarity, a clear and fair understanding to people. We can offer them peace, a quiet mind where once there was confusion, cacophony.”
Carl was glad that he had a fry in his mouth when Don paused so that he could chew for a second and collect himself. It allowed him to prevent the first couple of possible replies.
“I would never have thought of that, Don.”