THIS NEARLY WAS MINE

/This story describes a job offer I turned down in 1963. 02/29/2016

THIS NEARLY WAS MINE

As the Foster Wheeler Corporation cooling tower business spun out of control, it behooved me to find another job before it crashed. Looking over the want ads became a daily ritual for me. Unexpectedly, I received a phone call from Bob Moore, owner of the Moore Fan Company, who offered me a remarkable employment opportunity. Some years earlier, he had moved his business from Kansas City to Marceline, Missouri, after neighbors complained about his use of explosives to manufacture fan hubs. Bob, an aeronautical engineer, had learned his trade while employed by J. F Pritchard & Co., designing propellers for the light aircraft market.

  At this point in time, the Moore Fan Company was FWC’s sole fan supplier and its largest customer. Over time, Bob and I became good business friends. The impending sale of FWC’s cooling tower business to the Fluor Corporation, who made their own fans, would result in a large loss of revenue to Moore Fan Company.

Bob’s employment offer caught me completely off guard. I stalled for time to consider the idea. In May, he wrote me a three-page letter and outlined some of the mutually advantageous reasons why we should link up. In June, at my suggestion, he paid to have me spend a week with him at Marceline, to allow me a better opportunity to weigh his offer.

Bob wanted me to join his firm because neither of his two adult sons from his first marriage wanted to work for him. Bob wished to provide his current wife and child with a measure of security by having someone on his staff able to maintain the business after his retirement or demise. 

What exactly would my new job entail? Bob outlined a number of directions in which it might evolve, including sales. He gave me more credit for my business and engineering acumen than I actually possessed.

After returning home, Angie and I discussed the pros and cons of this job opportunity. On the positive side, Bob outlined a long range scenario in which he would sell me the business when it came time for him to retire. This appealed to me.

On the negative side I would have to take a large cut in pay.

I worried that, should things not work out, I’d be stuck in Marceline, a very tiny burg located in the center of Missouri, equidistant from Kansas City and St. Louis. Aside from Bob’s large modern factory, every other structure in town looked ancient. The home movies I took while visiting there confirmed my opinion.

I had observed Bob enjoying an ice-cold martini during breakfast. He had a fetish about germs and used a straw to sip it. That straw broke the back of any intention I might have had to work for him.

A few weeks later, I advised Bob of my decision to remain in California. This did not deter him. He seemed even more intent on hiring me, and phoned me every few weeks over the next two months. He wrote me a lengthy letter in October 1963, making one more impassioned pitch for my services. During a long and painful phone conversation, I told him under no circumstances would I accept his offer. He told me my decision disappointed him.

About five or six years later, Bob called and asked me to write his attorney a letter attesting to his moral character. He needed it to support his ongoing efforts to divorce his wife. I ignored this request, not wishing to become involved in his personal affairs.

What ever happened to Bob Moore?  For years, I did not know. Once, perhaps in 1990, I tried phoning the company but could find no listing either in Marceline or anywhere else. I concluded his business enterprise had expired.

While reviewing this yarn (April 2011), I surfed the net for Moore Fan Company. What a shock! Not only does the company still exist, it even has an office in England. The company website provided me with the following information: Bob remained President and C.E.O, until 1971 at which time the older of his two sons from his first marriage succeeded him. At this writing, the younger brother, John, now runs the company.

I sent John an e-mail, telling him of the association I’d had with his father, and the job offer he’d made. To my great delight, John phoned me. “If you’re ever in the area, I’d love to show you around the plant, now a hundred thousand square feet.” The news thrilled me to learn how successful the business had become.

This discovery did not change my perspective. I had made the correct decision to reject Bob’s 1963 job offer. Moving to Marceline, even with the prospect of one day owning his fan business, would have led to my ruin. In no time at all, Angie would have fled to New York, taking all the kids with her. I would have wound up sipping martinis for breakfast. Furthermore, I had no chance of emulating the business success of that other Missourian, Harry Truman, as I clearly lacked the requisite nasal twang.

▀     

/

.