At our regular three-martini lunch today with a senior partner in the firm, we discussed a candidate he has in mind for a new hire. This partner was my lieutenant back on Okinawa. We saw a lot of action together, he covered our asses like Mother McCree—in the field and with the brass—and he has my highest respect and loyalty. There has never been an officer with as much concern for his men. After the war, he was the one who urged me to use the G.I. Bill to got to law school, then brought me into the firm. If it wasn’t for him, I’d probably be shoveling coal in the bottom of some hellhole like my old man. He’s a good guy, but he’s got some crazy ideas.
After the second martini, he handed me the candidate’s resume. It was spectacular. Harvard Law. Honors. Harvard Law Review.
On the third martini, he divulged what wasn’t on the resume. This kid is colored. It turns out he is another one of the Lieutenant’s “social” projects.
Hey, let me tell you, I have nothing against colored people, per se. I even have some friends who are colored. But if we hired this guy, what would our clients say? I know for a fact we would lose clients over this and I know just the clients we would lose. Murdoch, from Duke Tobacco in South Carolina, would be the first. Reynolds would be right behind him. And the Winston-Salem guys? Jesus. This could cost us a fortune in contracts.
I think the Lieutenant is out of line this time. No. Excuse my French, but I think he is fucking nuts this time. Just suggesting this to the other partners could jeopardize his position in the firm.
What is there to be gained from crossing the color line like this?