29
Francis J. Emanuel slid open the middle drawer of a large wooden filing cabinet in the corner of his well-furnished office in Central London. He worked his thick fingers through the middle of the "G" section, mumbling to himself as he went along: "Gluck...Glynn...Gold...Goldbaum...Golder...Goldman...Goldstein."
As he came upon the name he was looking for, he drew a thick folder from the cabinet and shut the drawer. Francis leafed through the papers within until he found two particular documents. One was a single sheet of paper labeled "Inspection Report" and dated 3 September 1894; this he laid out on his dark mahogany desk. The other was a packet of several sheets, labeled "Insurance Policy" and dated 19 January 1895; this he set aside.
As he sat down in his comfortable leather chair and switched on a lamp to supplement the light from the window at his back and the fireplace to his side, he pored carefully over the typewritten text of the inspection report. Grabbing an ink pen, he scratched out a few details here and there, taking notice of one passage in particular:
"Emanuel & Browne Marine and Fire Insurance Co. hereby affirms that the Goldstein & Sons Furniture Co. at 26 Whitechapel Rd. East, Whitechapel, London, conforms to the construction standards set by the London Building Act of 1894. It is for this reason that the former organization pledges to provide the latter with compensation in the event of fire, as detailed in the bilateral agreement between the two parties."
With a few strokes of his pen, those sentences were no more. In the margins, he scribbled a new revision:
"Emanuel & Browne Marine and Fire Insurance Co. hereby states that the Goldstein & Sons Furniture Co. at 26 Whitechapel Rd. East, Whitechapel, London, does not conform to the standards set by the London Building Act of 1894. It is for this reason that the former organization relinquishes all prior obligation to provide the latter with compensation in the event of fire, and any preexisting agreement between the two parties is rendered null and void."
With that, Francis J. Emanuel took the edited document outside his office and dropped it on the desk of his secretary.
"Miss Turner," he said politely, "Please retype this. There are some, er...errors that need sorting out."
Miss Turner looked over the papers. She glanced at her employer with a near-incredulous stare. Her stare was met by a wink that confirmed Francis's attitude toward her dubious task, followed by a glare that clarified the consequences should she fail to complete it.
As Miss Turner silently fed fresh sheets of paper into her clunky typewriter, Francis returned to his office. He picked up the unedited stack of papers, removed the metal fasteners, and crumpled the sheets into a crinkled ball. With as much ceremony as he might have used to cast an apple core into the bin, he tossed the papers into the fireplace. He sat back in his chair and watched as a formal agreement blackened into nothing.
Once the last sliver of white was charred by the heat, Francis J. Emanuel ousted the thought from his mind so that he could focus on more pressing matters. As he retook his pen and started on a letter to a client, the loudest sound within the office was that of Miss Turner, rewriting established fact for the benefit of one and the detriment of another.
As he came upon the name he was looking for, he drew a thick folder from the cabinet and shut the drawer. Francis leafed through the papers within until he found two particular documents. One was a single sheet of paper labeled "Inspection Report" and dated 3 September 1894; this he laid out on his dark mahogany desk. The other was a packet of several sheets, labeled "Insurance Policy" and dated 19 January 1895; this he set aside.
As he sat down in his comfortable leather chair and switched on a lamp to supplement the light from the window at his back and the fireplace to his side, he pored carefully over the typewritten text of the inspection report. Grabbing an ink pen, he scratched out a few details here and there, taking notice of one passage in particular:
"Emanuel & Browne Marine and Fire Insurance Co. hereby affirms that the Goldstein & Sons Furniture Co. at 26 Whitechapel Rd. East, Whitechapel, London, conforms to the construction standards set by the London Building Act of 1894. It is for this reason that the former organization pledges to provide the latter with compensation in the event of fire, as detailed in the bilateral agreement between the two parties."
With a few strokes of his pen, those sentences were no more. In the margins, he scribbled a new revision:
"Emanuel & Browne Marine and Fire Insurance Co. hereby states that the Goldstein & Sons Furniture Co. at 26 Whitechapel Rd. East, Whitechapel, London, does not conform to the standards set by the London Building Act of 1894. It is for this reason that the former organization relinquishes all prior obligation to provide the latter with compensation in the event of fire, and any preexisting agreement between the two parties is rendered null and void."
With that, Francis J. Emanuel took the edited document outside his office and dropped it on the desk of his secretary.
"Miss Turner," he said politely, "Please retype this. There are some, er...errors that need sorting out."
Miss Turner looked over the papers. She glanced at her employer with a near-incredulous stare. Her stare was met by a wink that confirmed Francis's attitude toward her dubious task, followed by a glare that clarified the consequences should she fail to complete it.
As Miss Turner silently fed fresh sheets of paper into her clunky typewriter, Francis returned to his office. He picked up the unedited stack of papers, removed the metal fasteners, and crumpled the sheets into a crinkled ball. With as much ceremony as he might have used to cast an apple core into the bin, he tossed the papers into the fireplace. He sat back in his chair and watched as a formal agreement blackened into nothing.
Once the last sliver of white was charred by the heat, Francis J. Emanuel ousted the thought from his mind so that he could focus on more pressing matters. As he retook his pen and started on a letter to a client, the loudest sound within the office was that of Miss Turner, rewriting established fact for the benefit of one and the detriment of another.