Ending their alliance with the underworld, Pat Hobby and Superintendent¹ Doolan walked down the corridor of the Administration Building. Outside the Dean’s office Doolan said: ‘As soon as I can, I’ll bring you in and introduce you.’ As an accredited² representative neither of Jack³ Berners’ nor of the studio, Pat waited with a certain malaise. He did not look forward to confronting a group of highbrows but he remembered that he bore an humble⁴ but warming piece of merchandise in his threadbare overcoat. The Dean’s assistant had left her desk to take notes at the conference so he repleated his calories with a long, gagging draught⁵.

In a moment, there was a responsive glow and he settled down in his chair, his eye fixed⁶ on the door marked:

SAMUEL K. WISKETH

DEAN OF THE STUDENT BODY

It might be a somewhat formidable encounter.

. . . but why? There were stuffed shirts — everybody knew that. They had college degrees but they could be bought. If they’d play ball with the studio they’d get a lot of good publicity⁷ for U.W.C. And that meant bigger salaries for them, didn’t it, and more jack?

The door to the conference room opened and closed tentatively. No one came out but Pat sat up and readied himself. Representing the fourth biggest industry in America, or almost representing it, he must not let a bunch of highbrows stare him down. He was not without an inside view of higher education — in his early youth he had once been the ‘Buttons’ in the DKE House at the University of Pennsylvania. And with encouraging chauvinism he assured himself that Pennsylvania had it over this pioneer enterprise like a tent.

The door opened — a flustered⁸ young man with

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