Review: Volume 13 - Football

Review: Volume 13 - Football

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Title: f00TBALLERS/DP/18998o7187/REF=SR_1_1?IE=utf8&S=B00KS&QID=12o3517268&SR=1-1">Raich Carter


Editor: Frank Garrick

Publisher: Sports Books

Price: £16.99

Bookshop: Amazon

Website: Raich Carter


Raich Carter played during the golden age of English football but like many of his contemparies had his career blighted by the second world war. In this biography Frank Garrick details how Raich Carter is the only man to have won FA Cup winning medals before and after the war, winning what was then England's premier competition – the one every professional wanted most to win – with Sunderland and then Derby County. And although like many from that era he suffered from the vagaries of an amateur selection system he is regarded as Stanley Matthews best partner, even if he wasn’t best pleased to play with him. Carter also won the League title with Sunderland.

We will never know if Tommy Lawton was truly the greatest centre-forward ever produced by England but we do know that he played in an era totally different from today. It is probable that Lawton never earned in a 20 year career what Rio Ferdinand earns in a week! Certainly in 1955 when Tommy Lawton was in his mid-thirties and playing for Arsenal he was on £17 a week. He was approached by the brewers Guinness to head a poster campaign for a fee of £10,000. But he had to turn it down, no Arsenal player was allowed to be associated with alcohol. How different from today! The book also touches on the darker side of Lawton’s life. The court appearance for passing dud cheques, his failed marriage and the dodging of bailiffs before he was re-discovered as a pundit and journalist.

It was 28 years ago, in 1978, that Viv Anderson became the first black player to be selected for England. It is a measure of how life for black footballers has improved that in 2002 Arsenal could field nine non-white players at Leeds’ Elland Road ground without comment. A tenth, Jermaine Pennant, came on as a substitute. While it would be wrong to claim that racism has been entirely banished from English football, the problem is not as bad as on the European continent. Rodney Hinds, sports editor of The Voice, Britain’s leading black newspaper, examines the attitudes of the football establishment over the years and talks to players who had to suffer abuse from visiting fans and players, and sometimes their own team-mates.

Following a promising season in 1896-97, the United football committee, at the start of the new campaign, declared its intention to 'gain the Championship of the League'. This seemed no idle boast as the team started on a terrific 14-match unbeaten run, with a series of outstanding performances. Yet a mid-season slump saw Aston Villa and Sunderland merge as serious rivals to United's title ambitions. The matches against these teams proved full of excitement, tension and controversy, and there were to be many twists and turns in the season before United were declared finally as Champions at Bolton on 8 April 1898.

Volume 13

Welcome to the thirteenth annual Delmarva Review, an independent, nonprofit literary journal. Our editors have selected the new work of 64 authors that stood out from thousands of submissions during the year. In this edition, we are publishing 79 poems, 10 short stories, 11 creative nonfiction essays, and seven book reviews. In all, the writers come from twenty-one states, the District of Columbia, and five foreign countries. Forty-two percent are from the Delmarva and Chesapeake region, though the review welcomes the best new writing in English from all writers, regardless of borders.

The cover photograph, “Cedar Island Watch House,” by contributing photographer Jay P. Fleming, captures the feeling of nature’s power and suggests the increasing concern of climate change.

A number of human themes are represented in this issue. One, in particular, gives life to the others—change. We strive to deal with change in our daily lives. While change can be uncomfortable, often confronting personal denial, it finds its natural place in all forms of writing. After all, it is the change in a character’s life that creates the action of a good story…or in the narrative description that adheres to our strongest beliefs and emotions. As our lives change, we are forced to discover the truth to guide us on our journeys, or perhaps to make sense of where we have been. The search for meaning is the basis for the best of enduring literature.

The Mailer Review/Volume 13, 2019/ The Last Night: A Story

The story was written in 1962, therefore was written with the idea of a President not altogether different from John F. Kennedy. L.B.J., needless to say, is altogether different. Go back, if you would go forward in time.

The original prefactory note is also reprinted. It may help to elucidate the style.

Note to the Reader: Obviously a movie must be based on a novel, a story, a play, or an original idea. I suppose it could even derive from a poem. “Let’s do The Wasteland,” said a character of mine named Collie Munshin. The novel may be as much as a thousand pages long, the play a hundred, the story ten, the original idea might be stated in a paragraph. Yet each in its turn must be converted into an art form (a low art form) called a Treatment. The Treatment usually runs anywhere from twenty to a hundred pages in length. It is a bed of Procrustes. Long stories have their limbs lopped off. Too-brief tales are stretched. The idea is to present for the attention of a producer, a director, or a script reader, in readable but modest form, the line of story, the gallery of characters, the pith and gist of your tale.

But one’s duty is to do this without much attempt at style and no attempt at high style. The language must be functional, even cliché, and since one’s writing prepares the ground for a movie script, too much introspection in the characters is not encouraged. “Joey was thinking for the first time that Alice was maybe in love with him,” is barely acceptable. An actor on contract could probably manage to register that emotion in a closeup. Whereas,

. . . the little phrase, as soon as it struck his ear, had the power to liberate in him the room that was needed to contain it the proportions of Swann’s soul were altered a margin was left for a form of enjoyment which corresponded no more than his love for Odette to any external object, and yet was not, like his enjoyment of that love, purely individual, but assumed for him an objective reality superior to that of other concrete things,

would bake the clay of a producer’s face a little closer to stone. A producer is interested in the meat and bone of a story. His question as he reads a treatment is whether he should go on to assign a writer to do a screenplay of this story with specific dialogue and most specific situations added, or whether he should ask for another treatment with new characters and plot, or whether indeed he should write off the loss and quit right now. So a treatment bears the same relation to a finished screenplay as the model for a wind tunnel does to the airplane. Since a treatment is functional, any excellence must be unobtrusive. In fact, a good director (George Stevens) once told me that good writing in a treatment was a form of cheating because it introduced emotional effects through language which he might not as a director be able to repeat on film.

So, thus modestly, I present here a treatment of a movie. It is based on an original idea. It is a short treatment. Only a few of the scenes are indicated. As an example of the art of the treatment, it is not characteristic, for it is written in somewhat formal prose, but it may have the virtue of suggesting a motion picture to your imagination.

Best wishes. See you in the morning after this last night. —N.M.

W e’re going to describe a movie which will take place twenty years from now, forty years from now, or is it one hundred years from now? One cannot locate the date to a certainty. The world has gone on just about the way we all expected it would go on. It has had large and dramatic confrontations by heads of state, cold wars galore, economic crises resolved and unresolved, good investment, bad investment, decent management and a witch’s bag full of other complexities much too numerous ever to bring into a movie. The result has been a catastrophe which all of us have dreaded, all of us expected, and none of us has been able to forestall. The world in twenty or forty years—let us say it is thirty-six—has come to the point where without an atomic war, without even a hard or furious shooting war, has given birth nonetheless to a fearful condition. The world has succeeded in poisoning itself. It is no longer fit to inhabit. The prevalent condition is fallout radiation, anomalous crops, monstrous babies who grow eyes in their navels and die screaming with hatred at the age of six weeks, plastics which emit cancerous fumes, buildings which collapse like camphor flakes, weather which is excruciatingly psychological because it is always too hot or too cold. Governments fall with the regularity of pendulums. The earth is doomed. The number of atom bombs detonated by the Americans, Russians, English, French, the Algerians, Africans, the Israelis and the Chinese, not to mention the Turks, Hindus and Yugoslavians, have so poisoned existence that even the apples on the trees turn malignant in the stomach. Life is being burned out by a bleak fire within, a plague upon the secrets of our existence which stultifies the air. People who govern the nations have come to a modest and simple conclusion. The mistakes of the past have condemned the future. There is no time left to discuss mankind's guilt. No one is innocent of the charge that all have blighted the rose. In fact, the last President to be elected in the United States has come to office precisely by making this the center of his plank: that no one is innocent. The political reactions have been exceptional. Earlier in the century the most fundamental political notion was that guilt could be laid always at the door of one nation and one nation only. Now a man had been elected to one of the two most powerful offices in the world on the premise that the profound illness of mankind was the fault of all, and this victory had prepared the world for cooperative action.

Shortly after the election of this last of the American Presidents, the cold war was finally ended. Russia and America were ready to collaborate, as were Algeria and France, China, England, Western Europe, India and Africa. The fact had finally been faced. Man had succeeded in so polluting the atmosphere that he was doomed to expire himself. Not one in fifty of the most responsible government scientists would now admit that there were more than twenty years left to life. It was calculated that three-quarters of the living population would be gone in five years from the various diseases of fallout. It was further calculated that of the one-quarter remaining women and men, another three-quarters would be dead in the two following years. What a perspective—three-quarters of the people dead in five years, another three-quarters lost in two, one in sixteen left after seven years to watch the slow extinction of the rest. In the face of this fact, led by a President who was exceptional, who was not only the last but perhaps the greatest of America’s leaders, the people of the world had come together to stare into the grim alternatives of their fate. All men and women who continued to live on earth would expire. Five hundred thousand at least could survive if they were moved to Mars, perhaps even as many as one million people could be saved, together with various animals, vegetables, minerals and transportable plants. For the rocketeers had made fine advances. Their arts and sciences had developed enormously. They had managed to establish a company of astronauts on Mars. Nearly one thousand had perished earlier on the Moon, but on Mars over a hundred had managed to live they had succeeded in building a camp out of native vegetation found on the surface. Dwellings had been fabricated from it and, in triumph, a vehicle constructed entirely from materials found on Mars had been sent back to earth, where men and women received it with extravagant hope.

No space here, or for that matter in the movie, to talk of the endless and difficult negotiations which had gone on. The movie could begin perhaps with the ratification of the most astounding piece of legislation ever to be passed in any country. In this case the piece of legislation had been passed by every nation in the world. It was a covenant which declared that every citizen in each nation was going to devote himself to sending a fleet of rocket ships to Mars. This effort would be Herculean. It would demand that the heart of each nation’s economy be turned over completely to building and equipping ships, selecting the people, training them, and having the moral fortitude to bid them goodbye. In a sense, this universal operation would be equivalent to the evacuation of Dunkirk but with one exception: three-quarters of the British Expeditionary Force was removed safely from the beach. In this case, the world could hope to send up to Mars no more than one million of its people, conceivably less.

It was calculated that the operation must be accomplished in eighteen months—the spread of plague dictated this haste, for half of the remaining members of mankind might be dead in this time and it was felt that to wait too long would be tantamount to populating the ships with human beings too sick, too weak, too plague-ridden to meet the rigors of life on Mars.

It was indeed a heroic piece of legislation, for the people on earth had had the vision to see that all of them were doomed, and so the majority had consented to accept a minority from within themselves to go out further across space and continue the species. Of course, those who were left would make some further effort to build new rocket ships and follow the wave of the first million pioneers, but the chances of this were unlikely. Not only would the resources of the world be used at an unprecedented rate to build a fleet of ten thousand rocket ships capable of carrying one hundred persons each out so far as Mars, but, in fact, as everyone knew, the earth would be stripped of its most exceptional people, its most brilliant technicians, artists, scientists, athletes and executives, plus their families. Those who were left could hardly hope to form a nucleus or a new cadre brilliant enough to repeat the effort. Besides, it was calculated that the ravages of the plague would already be extreme by the time the fleet departed. The heroism of this legislation resided therefore in the fact that man was capable of regarding his fate and determining to do something exceptional about it.

Now the President of the United States, as indicated earlier, was an unusual man. It was a situation right for a dictator, but he was perhaps not only the most brilliant but the most democratic of American Presidents. And one of the reasons the separate nations of the world had been able to agree on this legislation, and the Americans in particular had voted for it, was that the President had succeeded in engaging the imagination of the world’s citizens with his project, much as Churchill had brought an incandescence to the morale of the English by the famous speech where he told them he could offer them nothing but blood, sweat, toil and tears. So this President had spared no detail in bringing the citizens of America face to face with the doom of their condition. There were still one hundred million people alive in America. Of that number, one hundred thousand would voyage to Mars. One person in a thousand then could hope to go. Yet there were no riots in the streets. The reason was curious but simple. The President had promised to stay behind and make every effort to train and rally new technicians for the construction of a second fleet. This decision to remain behind had come from many motives: he had recognized the political impossibility of leaving himself—there was moreover sufficient selflessness in the man to make such a course tasteless to him—and, what was also to the point, his wife, whom he loved, was now incurably sick. It had been agreed that the first of the criteria for selection to the fleet was good physical condition, or at least some reasonable suggestion of health, since everyone on earth was now ill in varying degree.

In the first six months after the worldwide ratification of what had already become known as the Legislation For A Fleet, an atmosphere of cooperation, indeed almost of Christian sanctity and goodwill, came over the earth. Never before in the memory of anyone living had so many people seemed in so good a mood. There was physical suffering everywhere—as has been mentioned nearly everyone was ill, usually of distressing internal diseases—but the pain now possessed a certain logic, for at least one-half the working force of the world was engaged directly or indirectly in the construction of The Fleet or the preparations surrounding it. Those who were to travel to Mars had a profound sense of mission, of duty and humility. Those who knew they would be left behind felt for the first time in years a sensation of moral weightlessness which was recognized finally as the absence of guilt. Man was at peace with himself. He could even feel hope, because it was, after all, not known to a certainty that those who were left behind must inevitably perish. Some still believed in the possibility of new medical discoveries which could save them. Others devoted themselves to their President’s vow that the construction of the second fleet would begin upon the departure of the first. And, with it all, there was in nearly everyone a sense of personal abnegation, of cooperation, of identification with the community.

It was part of the President’s political wisdom that the people who were chosen for the American Fleet had also been selected geographically. Every town of ten thousand inhabitants had ten heroes to make the trip. Not a county of five thousand people scattered over ten thousand square miles of ranches was without its five men, women, and children, all ready. And, of course, for each person chosen there were another ten ready to back them up, in case the first man turned ill, or the second, or the third. Behind these ten were one hundred, directly involved in the development, training and morale of each voyager and his ten substitutes. So participation in the flight reached into all the corners of the country, and rare was the family which had nothing to do with it. Historians, writing wistfully about the end of history, had come to the conclusion that man was never so close to finding his soul as in this period when it was generally agreed he was soon to lose his body.

Now, calculate what a blow it was to morality, to courage, and the heart of mankind when it was discovered that life on Mars was not supportable, that the company of a hundred who had been camping on its surface had begun to die, and that their disease was similar to the plague which had begun to visit everyone on earth, but was more virulent in its symptoms and more rapid in its results. The scientific news was overwhelming. Fallout and radiation had poisoned not only the earth but the entire solar system. There was no escape for man to any of the planets. The first solar voyagers to have journeyed so far away as Jupiter had sent back the same tragic news. Belts of radiation incalculably fierce in their intensity now surrounded all the planets.

The President was, of course, the first to receive this news and, in coordination with agreements already arrived at, communicated it to the Premier of the Soviet Union. The two men were already firm friends. They had succeeded, two and a half years before, in forming an alliance to end the Cold War, and by thus acting in concert had encouraged the world to pass the Legislation For A Fleet. Now the Premier informed the President that he had heard the bad news himself: ten of the one hundred men on Mars were, after all, Russians. The two leaders met immediately in Paris for a conference which was brief and critical in its effect. The President was for declaring the news immediately. He had an intimation that to conceal such an apocalyptic fact might invite an unnameable disaster. The Premier of Russia begged him to wait a week at least before announcing this fact. His most cogent argument was that the scientists were entitled to a week to explore the remote possibility of some other solution.

“What other could there possibly be?” asked the President.

“How can I know?” answered the Premier. “Perhaps we shall find a way to drive a tunnel into the center of the earth in order to burn all impurities out of ourselves.”

The President was adamant. The tragic condition of the world today was precisely the product, he declared, of ten thousand little abuses of power, ten thousand moments in history when the leaders had decided that the news they held was too unpleasant or too paralyzing for the masses to bear. A new era in history, a heroic if tragic era, had begun precisely because the political leaders of the world now invited the citizens into their confidence. The President and the Premier were at an impasse. The only possible compromise was to wait another twenty-four hours and invite the leaders of Europe, Asia, South America and Africa to an overnight conference which would determine the fate of the news.

The second conference affected the history of everything which was to follow, because all the nations were determined to keep the new and disastrous news a secret. The President’s most trusted technical advisor, Anderson Stevens, argued that the general despair would be too great and would paralyze the best efforts of his own men to find another solution. The President and Stevens were old friends. They had come to power together. It was Stevens who had been responsible for some of the most critical scientific discoveries and advances in the rocketry of the last ten years. The Legislation For A Fleet had come, to a great extent, out of his work. He was known as the President’s greatest single friend, his most trusted advisor. If he now disagreed with the President at this international conference, the President was obliged to listen to him. Anderson Stevens argued that while the solar system was now poisoned and uninhabitable, it might still be possible to travel to some other part of our galaxy and transfer human life to a more hospitable star. For several days, scientists discussed the possibilities. It was admitted that no fuel or system of booster propulsion was sufficiently powerful to take a rocket ship beyond the solar system. Not even by connecting to booster rockets already in orbit. But then it was also argued that no supreme attempt had yet been made and if the best scientific minds on earth applied themselves to this problem the intellectual results were unforeseeable. In the meantime, absolute silence was to be observed. The program to construct the Martian Fleet was to continue as if nothing had happened. The President acceded to this majority decision of the other leaders, but informed them that he would hold the silence for no more than another week.

By the end of the week, Anderson Stevens returned with an exceptional suggestion: a tunnel ten miles long was to be constructed in all haste in Siberia or the American desert. Pitched at an angle, so that its entrance was on the surface and its base a mile below the earth, the tunnel would act like the muzzle of a rifle and fire the rocket as if it were a shell. Calculated properly, taking advantage of the earth’s rotation about its own axis and the greater speed of its rotation about the sun, it was estimated that the rocket ship might then possess sufficient escape velocity to quit the gravitational pull of the sun and so move out to the stars. Since some of the rocket ships were already close to completion and could be adapted quickly to the new scheme, the decision was taken to fire a trial shot in three months, with a picked crew of international experts. If the ship succeeded in escaping the pull of the sun, its crew could then explore out to the nearest stars and send back the essential information necessary for the others who would follow.

Again the question of secrecy was debated. Now Stevens argued that it would be equally irresponsible to give people hope if none would later exist. So, suffering his deepest misgivings, the President consented to a period of silence for three months while the tunnel was completed. In this period, the character of his administration began to change. Hundreds and then thousands of men were keeping two great secrets: the impossibility of life on Mars, and the construction of the giant cannon which would fire an exploratory ship to the stars. So an atmosphere of secrecy and evasion began to circle about the capital, and the mood of the nation was effected. There were rumors everywhere few of them were accurate. People whispered that the President was dying. Others stated that the Russians were no longer in cooperation with us, but engaged in a contest to see who could get first to Mars. It was said that the climate of Mars had driven the colonists mad, that the spaceships being built would not hold together because the parts were weakened by atomic radiation. It was even rumored—for the existence of the tunnel could not be hidden altogether—that the government was planning to construct an entire state beneath the surface of the earth, in which people could live free of radiation and fallout. For the first time in three or four years, the rates of the sociological diseases—crime, delinquency, divorce and addiction—began again to increase.

The day for the secret test arrived. The rocket was fired. It left the earth’s atmosphere at a rate greater than any projectile had yet traveled, a rate so great that the first fear of the scientists was substantiated. The metal out of which the rocket was made, the finest, most heat-resistant alloy yet devised by metallurgists, was still insufficient to withstand the heat of its velocity. As it rose through the air, with the dignitaries of fifty countries gathered to watch its departure, it burst out of the earth, its metal skin glowing with the incandescence of a welding torch, traced a path of incredible velocity across the night sky, so fast that it looked like a bolt of lightning reversed, leaping lividly from the earth into the melancholy night, and burned itself out thirty miles up in the air, burned itself out as completely as a dead meteor. No metal existed which could withstand the heat of the excessive friction created by the extreme velocity necessary to blast a ship through the atmosphere and out beyond the gravitational attractions of the sun and its planets. On the other hand, a rocket ship which rose slowly through the earth’s atmosphere and so did not overheat could not then generate enough power to overcome the pull of the sun. It seemed now conclusive that man was trapped within his solar system.

The President declared that the people must finally be informed, and in an historic address he did so inform them of the futility of going to Mars and of the impossibility of escape in any other way. There was nothing left for man, he declared, but to prepare himself for his end, to recognize that his soul might have a life beyond his death and so might communicate the best of himself to the stars. There was thus the opportunity to die well, in dignity, with grace, and the hope that the spirit might prove more miraculous and mighty than the wonders man had extracted from matter. It was a great speech. Commentators declared it was perhaps the greatest speech ever delivered by a political leader. It suffered from one irrevocable flaw: it had been delivered three months too late. The ultimate reaction was cynical. “If all that is left to us is our spirit,” commented a German newspaper, “why then did the President deny us three useful months in which to begin to develop it?”

Like the leaden-green airless evening before an electrical storm, an atmosphere of depression, bitterness, wildness, violence and madness rose from the echoes of this speech. Productivity began to founder. People refused to work. Teachers taught in classrooms which were empty and left the schools themselves. Windows began to be broken everywhere, a most minor activity, but it took on accelerated proportions, as if many found a huge satisfaction in throwing rocks through windows much as though they would proclaim that this was what the city would look like when they were gone. Funerals began to take on a bizarre attraction. Since ten to twenty times as many people were dying each day as had died even five years before, funeral processions took up much of the traffic, and many of the people who were idle enjoyed marching through the streets in front of and behind the limousines. The effect was sometimes medieval, for impromptu carnivals began to set themselves up on the road to the cemetery. There were speeches in Congress to impeach the President and, as might conventionally be expected, some of the particular advisers who had counseled him to keep silence were now most forward in their condemnation of his act.

The President himself seemed to be going through an exceptional experience. That speech in which he had suggested to mankind that its best hope was to cultivate its spirit before it died seemed to have had the most profound effect upon him. His appearance had begun to alter: his hair was subtly longer, his face more gaunt, his eyes feverish. He had always been unorthodox as a President, but now his clothing was often rumpled and he would appear unexpectedly to address meetings or to say a few words on television. His resemblance to Lincoln, which had in the beginning been slight, now became more pronounced. The wits were quick to suggest that he spent hours each day with a makeup expert. In the midst of this, the President’s wife died, and in great pain. They had been close for twenty years. Over the last month, he had encouraged her not to take any drugs to dull the pain. The pain was meaningful, he informed her. The choice might be one of suffering now in the present or later in eternity. In anguish she expired. On her deathbed she seared him with a cruel confession. It was that no matter how she had loved him for twenty years, she had always felt there was a part of him never to be trusted, a part which was implacable, inhuman and ruthless. “You would destroy the world for a principle,” she told him as she died. “There is something diabolical about you.”

On the return from her funeral, people came out to stand silently in tribute. It was the first spontaneous sign of respect paid to him in some months, and riding alone in the rear of an open limousine, he wept. Yet, before the ride was over, someone in the crowd threw a stone through the windshield. In his mind, as he rode, was the face of his wife, saying to him some months before, “I tell you, people cannot bear suffering. I know that I cannot. You will force me to destroy a part of your heart if you do not let me have the drugs.”

That night the chief of America’s Intelligence Service came to see the President. The Russians were engaged in a curious act. They were building a tunnel in Siberia, a tunnel even larger than the American one, and at an impossible angle it went almost directly into the earth, and then took a jog at right angles to itself. The President put through a call to Moscow to speak to the Premier. The Premier told the President that he had already made preparations to see him. There was a matter of the most extreme importance to be discussed: the Russians had found a way to get a rocket ship out of the solar system.

So, the two men met in London in a secret conference. Alone in a room, the Premier explained the new project and his peculiar position. Slowly, insidiously, he had been losing control in his country, just as the President had become progressively more powerless in America. Against the Premier’s wishes, some atomic and rocket scientists had come together on a fearsome scheme which the Army was now supporting. It had been calculated that if an ordinary rocket ship, of the sort which belonged to the Martian fleet, were fired out from the earth, it would be possible to blast it into the furthest reaches of our own galaxy, provided—and this was most important—a planet were exploded at the proper moment. It would be like the impetus a breaking wave could give to a surfboard rider. With proper timing the force released by blowing up the planet would more than counteract the gravitational pull of the sun. Moreover, the rocket ship could be a great distance away from the planet at the moment it was exploded, and so the metal of its skin would not have to undergo any excessive heat.

“But which planet could we use?” asked the President.

The two men looked at one another. The communication passed silently from one’s mind to the other. It was obvious. With the techniques available to them there was only one planet: the earth.

That was what the Russian tunnel was for. A tunnel going deep into the earth, loaded with fissionable material, and exploded by a radio wave sent out from a rocket ship already one million miles away. The detonation of the earth would hurl the rocket ship like a pebble across a chasm of space.

“Well,” says the President, after a long pause, “it may be possible for the Fleet to take a trip after all.”

“No,” the Premier assures him, “not the Fleet.” For the earth would be detonated by an atomic chain reaction which would spew radioactive material across one hundred million miles of the heavens. The alloy vuranel was the only alloy which could protect a rocket ship against the electronic hurricane which would follow the explosion. There was on earth enough vuranel to create a satisfactory shield for only one ship. “Not a million men, women, and children, but a hundred, a hundred people and a few animals will take the trip to a star.”

“Who will go?” asks the President.

“Some of your people,” answers the Premier, “some of mine. You and me.”

“I won’t go,” says the President.

“Of course you will,” says the Premier. “Because if you don’t go, I don’t go, and we’ve been through too much already. You see, my dear friend, you’re the only equal I have on earth. It would be much too depressing to move through those idiotic stars without you.”

But the President is overcome by the proportions of the adventure. “You mean we will blow up the entire world in order that a hundred people have some small chance—one chance in five, one chance in ten, one chance in a hundred, or less—to reach some star and live upon it. The odds are too brutal. The cost is incalculable.”

“We lose nothing but a few years,” says the Premier. “We’ll all be dead anyway.”

“No,” says the President, “it’s not the same. We don’t know what we destroy. It may be that after life ceases on the earth, life will generate itself again, if only we leave the earth alone. To destroy it is monstrous. We may destroy the spirit of something far larger than ourselves.”

The Premier taps him on the shoulder. “Look, my friend, do you believe that God is found in a cockroach? I don’t. God is found inside you, and inside me. When all of us are gone, God is also gone.”

“I don’t know if I believe that,” answers the President.

Well, the Premier tells him, religious discussion has always fascinated him, but politics are more pressing. The question is whether they are at liberty to discuss this matter on its moral merits alone. The tunnel in Siberia had been built without his permission. It might interest the President to know that a tunnel equally secret is being constructed near the site of the old Arizona tunnel. There were Russian technicians working on that, just as American technicians had been working in Siberia. The sad political fact is that the technicians had acquired enormous political force, and if it were a question of a showdown tomorrow, it is quite likely they could seize power in the Soviet Union and in America as well.

“You, sir,” says the Premier, “have been searching your soul for the last year in order to discover reasons for still governing. I have been studying Machiavelli because I have found, to my amusement, that when all else is gone, when life is gone, when the promise of future life is gone, and the meaning of power, then what remains for one is the game. I want the game to go on. I do not want to lose power in my country. I do not want you to lose it in yours. I want, if necessary, to take the game clear up into the stars. You deserve to be on that rocket ship, and I deserve to be on it. It is possible we have given as much as anyone alive to brooding over the problems of mankind in these last few years. It is your right and my right to look for a continuation of the species. Perhaps it is even our duty.”

“No,” says the President. “They’re holding a gun to our heads. One cannot speak of the pleasures of the game or of honor or of duty when there is no choice.”

He will not consent to destroying the earth unless the people of earth choose that course, with a full knowledge of the consequences. What is he going to do, asks the Premier. He is going to tell the world, says the President. There must be a general worldwide election to determine the decision.

“Your own people will arrest you first,” says the Premier. He then discloses that the concept of exploding the earth to boost the power of the rocket had been Anderson Stevens’ idea.

The President picks up the phone and makes a call to his press chief. He tells him to prepare the television networks for an address he will deliver that night. The press chief asks him the subject. The President tells him he will discuss it upon his return. The press chief says that the network cannot be cleared unless the President informs him now of the subject. It will be a religious address, says the President.

“The networks may not give us the time,” says the press chief. “Frankly, sir, they are not certain which audiences share your spiritual fire.”

The President hangs up. “You are right,” he tells the Premier. “They will not let me make the speech. I have to make it here in London. Will you stand beside me?”

“No, my friend,” says the Russian, “I will not. They will put you in jail for making that speech, and you will have need of me on the outside to liberate your skin.”

The President makes the address in London to the citizens of the world. He explains the alternatives, outlines his doubts, discusses the fact that there are technicians ready to seize power, determined to commit themselves to the terrestrial explosion. No one but the people of the earth, by democratic procedure, have the right to make this decision, he declares, and recommends that as a first step the people march on the tunnel sites and hold them. He concludes his address by saying he is flying immediately back to Washington and will be there within two hours.

The message has been delivered on the network devoted to international television. It reaches a modest percentage of all listeners in the world. But in America, from the President’s point of view the program took place at an unfortunate time, for it was the early hours of the morning. When he lands in Washington at dawn, he is met by his Cabinet and a platoon of M.P.’s who arrest him. Television in America is devoted that morning to the announcement that the President has had a psychotic breakdown and is at present under observation by psychiatrists.

For a week, the atmosphere is unendurable. A small percentage of the people in America have listened to the President’s speech. Many more have heard him in other countries. Political tensions are acute, and increase when the Premier of the Soviet Union announces in reply to a question from a reporter that in his opinion the President of the United States is perfectly sane. Committees of citizens form everywhere to demand an open investigation of the charges against the President. It becomes a rallying cry that the President be shown to the public. A condition close to civil war exists in America.

At this point, the President is paid a visit by Anderson Stevens, the scientist in charge of the rocket program, the man who has lately done more than any other to lead the Cabinet against the President. Now they have a conversation behind the barred windows of the hospital room where the President is imprisoned. Anderson Stevens tells the President that the first tunnel which had been built for the star shot was, from his point of view, a ruse. He had never expected that rocket ship, which was fired like a bullet, to escape from the earth’s atmosphere without burning to a cinder. All of his experience had told him it would be destroyed. But he had advanced the program for that shot because he wished to test something else—the tunnel. It had been essential to discover how deeply one could dig into the crust of the earth before the heat became insupportable for an atomic bomb. In effect, the tunnel had been dug as a test to determine the feasibility of detonating the earth. And so that shot which had burned up a rocket ship had been, from Stevens’ point of view, a success, because he had learned that the tunnel could be dug deep enough to enable a superior hydrogen bomb to set off a chain reaction in the fiery core of the earth. The fact that one hundred rocketeers and astronauts, men who had been his friends for decades, had died in an experiment he had known to be all but hopeless was an indication of how serious he was about the earth bomb shot. The President must not think for a moment that Stevens would hesitate to keep him in captivity, man the ship himself, and blow up the earth.

Why, then, asks the President, does Stevens bother to speak to him? Because, answers Stevens, he wants the President to command the ship. Why? Because in some way the fate of the ship might be affected by the emotions of everybody on earth at the moment the earth was exploded. This sounded like madness to some of his scientific colleagues, but to him it was feasible that if life had a spirit and all life ceased to exist at the same moment, then that spirit, at the instant of death, might have a force of liberation or deterrence which could be felt as a physical force across the heavens.

“You mean,” said the President, “that even in the ruthless circuits of your heart there is terror, a moral terror, at the consequence of your act. And it is me you wish to bear the moral consequence of that act, and not you.”

“You are the only man great enough, sir,” says Anderson Stevens, bowing his head.

“But I think the act is wrong,” says the President.

“I know it is right,” says Stevens. “I spent a thousand days and a thousand nights living with the terror that I might be wrong, and still I believe I am right. There is something in me which knows that two things are true—that we have destroyed this earth not only because we were not worthy of it, but because it may have been too cruel for us. I tell you, we do not know. Man may have been mismated with earth. In some fantastic way, perhaps we voyaged here some millions of years ago and fell into a stupidity equal to the apes. That I don’t know. But I do know, if I know anything at all, because my mind imprisoned in each and every one of my cells tells me so, that we must go on, that we as men are different from the earth, we are visitors upon it. We cannot suffer ourselves to sit here and be extinguished, not when the beauty which first gave speech to our tongues commands us to go out and find another world, another earth, where we may strive, where we may win, where we may find the right to live again. For that dream I would kill everyone on earth. I would kill my children. In fact I must, for they will not accompany me on the trip. And you,” he says to the President, “you must accompany us. You must help to make this trip. For we as men may finally achieve greatness if we survive this, the most profound of our perils.”

“I do not trust myself,” says the President. “I do not know if my motive is good. Too many men go to their death with a hatred deep beyond words, wishing with their last breath that they could find the power to destroy God. I do not know—I may be one of those men.”

“You have no choice,” says Anderson Stevens. “There are people trying to liberate you now. I shall be here to shoot you myself before they succeed. Unless you agree to command the ship.”

“Why should I agree?” says the President. “Shoot me now.”

“No,’’ says Stevens, “you will agree, because I will make one critical concession to you. I do it not from choice, but from desperation. My dreams tell me we are doomed unless you command us. So I will let you give the people their one last opportunity. I will let you speak to them. I will put my power behind you, so that they may vote.”

“No,” says the President, “not yet. Because if such an election were lost, if the people said, ‘Let us stay here and die together, and leave the earth to mend itself, without the sound of human speech or our machines,’ then you would betray me. I know it. You would betray everyone. Some night, in some desert, a rocket ship would be fired up into the sky, and twenty hours later, deep in some secret tunnel, all of us would be awakened by the last explosion of them all. No. I will wait for the people to free me first. Of necessity, my first act then will be to imprison you.”

After this interview between Stevens and the President, the ruling coalition of Cabinet officers and technicians refused, of course, to let the people see the President. The response was a virtually spontaneous trek of Americans by airplane, helicopter, automobile, by animal, by motorcycle, and on foot, toward the tunnel site the President had named. The Army was quickly deployed to prevent them, but the soldiers refused to protect the approaches to the tunnel. They also asked for the right to see the President. The Cabinet capitulated. The President was presented on television. He announced that the only justification for the star ship was a worldwide general election.

The most brilliant, anguished, closely debated election in the history of the world now took place. For two months, argument licked like flame at the problem. In a last crucial speech the night before the election, the President declared that it was the words of a man now in prison, Anderson Stevens, which convinced him how he would vote. For he, the President, had indeed come to believe that man rising out of the fiery grave of earth, out of the loss of his past, his history, and his roots, might finally achieve the greatness and the goodness expected of him precisely because he had survived this, the last and the most excruciating of his trials. “If even a few of us manage to live, our seed will be changed forever by the self-sacrifice and nobility, the courage and the loss engraved on our memory of that earth-doomed man who was our ancestor and who offered us life. Man may become human at last.” The President concluded his speech by announcing that if the people considered him deserving of the honor, he would be the first to enter the ship, he would take upon himself the act of pressing that button which would blow up the earth.

The answer to this speech was a solemn vote taken in favor of destroying the world, and giving the spaceship its opportunity to reach the stars.

The beginning of the last sequence in the movie might show the President and the Premier saying goodbye. The Premier has discovered he is now hopelessly ill, and so will stay behind.

The Premier smiles as he says good-bye. “You see, I am really too fat for a brand-new game. It is you fanatics who always take the longest trips.”

One hundred men and women file into the ship behind the President. The rocket is fired and rises slowly, monumentally. Soon it is out of sight. In the navigation tower within the rocket the President stares back at earth. It is seen on a color television screen, magnified enormously. The hours go by and the time is approaching for the explosion. The radio which will send out the wave of detonation is warmed up. Over it the President speaks to the people who are left behind on earth. All work has of course ceased, and people waiting through the last few hours collect, many of them, in public places, listening to the President’s voice on loudspeakers. Others hear it in radios in their rooms, or sprawled on the grass in city parks. People listen in cars on country crossroads, at the beach, watching the surf break. Quietly, a few still buy tickets for their children on the pony rides. One or two old scholars sit by themselves at desks in the public library, reading books. Some drink in bars. Others sit quietly on the edge of pavements, their feet in the street. One man takes his shoes off. The mood is not too different from the mood of a big city late at night when the weather is warm. There is the same air of expectation, of quiet, brooding concentration.

“Pray for us,” says the President to them, speaking into his microphone on that rocket ship one million miles away. “Pray for us. Pray that our purpose is good and not evil. Pray that we are true and not false. Pray that it is part of our mission to bring the life we know to other stars.” And in his ears he hears the voice of his wife, saying through her pain, “You will end by destroying everything.”

“Forgive me, all of you,” says the President. “May I be an honest man and not first deluded physician to the devil.” Then he presses the button.

The earth detonates into the dark spaces. A flame leaps across the solar system. A scream of anguish, jubilation, desperation, terror, ecstasy, vaults across the heavens. The tortured heart of the earth has finally found its voice. We have a glimpse of the spaceship, a silver minnow of light, streaming into the oceans of mystery, and the darkness beyond.

Volume 13 - December 2017

Letter from the Editor

Letter from the Editor

This capstone issue of volume 13 of Management and Organization Review is a poignant moment for me, and at the same time inspiring, as we remember, celebrate, and honor our colleague, friend, and intellectual giant Kwok Leung. He was my friend, mentor, and teacher, who introduced me to the literature and controversies crisscrossing the landscape of cross-cultural research as I learned the ropes of leading the Journal of International Business Studies . He was eloquent and persistent in persuading me to accept the challenge of following Anne Tsui as Editor-in-Chief of Management and Organization Review , which at age eighty opened up for me exciting new intellectual horizons for which I am profoundly grateful. Kwok has been a prolific scholar with over two hundred peer-reviewed publications that collectively have received over 20,000 citations. I know that we will always miss Kwok, but his legacy will continue to shine and remind us of him.

Letter from the Editor

This issue leads off with a perspective paper, ‘Chinese Entrepreneurs, Social Networks, and Guanxi ’ , by Ronald S. Burt and Katarzyna Burzynska. The paper is followed by three commentaries from Yanjie Bian, Nan Lin, and Olav Sorenson, which collectively advance social network analyses in China, and contribute to a much more nuanced understanding of the significance of guanxi and entrepreneurs’ social capital in China. This paper was presented by Ron Burt as the keynote address at the Second Management and Organization Review Research Frontiers Conference hosted by Guanghua School of Management, Peking University (October 6–8, 2016). It is my hope that this study could be replicated in other transforming economies such as India, and Russia, Ex-Soviet Republics, and Eastern Europe. In the case of Africa, the legacy of colonial powers may have influenced entrepreneurial social capital and guanxi in surprising ways.

Preapproved and Preregistered Studies

Effective immediately, Management and Organization Review encourages authors to submit proposals for preregistered and preapproved studies. After peer review, such proposals can receive a conditional acceptance in Management and Organization Review – all before data are collected and results are obtained.

Letter from the Editor

With volume 13 MOR enters a new stage in its evolution to building its reputation as ‘The leading voice on management and organization research in China and other transforming economies’.

More Exploration and Less Exploitation: Cultivating Blockbuster Papers for MOR

Let me invite you to travel in your mind to the year 2030. Imagine that you are one of the Senior Editors of MOR and have been asked by the Editor-in-Chief to write a short retrospective on the previous 15 years.



Africa Business Research as a Laboratory for Theory-Building: Extreme Conditions, New Phenomena, and Alternative Paradigms of Social Relationships

Africa is an increasingly important business context, yet we still know little about it. We review the challenges and opportunities that firms in Africa face and propose that these can serve as the basis for extending current theories and models of the firm. We do so by challenging some of the implicit assumptions and stereotypes on firms in Africa and by proposing three avenues for extending theories. One is taking the extreme conditions of some Africa countries and using them as a laboratory for modifying current theories and models of the firm, as we illustrate in the case of institutional theory and the resource-based view. A second one is identifying new themes that arise from analyzing firms in Africa and their contexts of operation, and we discuss four themes: migrating multinationals and the meaning of home country, diaspora networks within and across countries, a recasting of cultural and institutional distance, and new hybrid organizational forms. A third one is developing new theories based on alternative paradigms of social relationships that have emerged in Africa that differ from those underpinning existing theories of the firm, such as kgotla and its view of community-based relationships or ubuntu and its humanizing view of relationships.

Chinese Entrepreneurs, Social Networks, and Guanxi

Intending to clear space for rigorous integrative research bridging theory and research across East and West, we highlight four conclusions from exceptional data on the networks around Chinese entrepreneurs: (1) The broker networks associated with business success in the West are also associated with success in China (2) The trust correlates of closed networks in the West are similarly correlated in China (3) History and trust proven in events emerge as especially important to the Chinese entrepreneurs (4) High-quality network data on Chinese business leaders are a practical reality. We use the results to define a network perspective on guanxi ties that can be common ground for integrating results across East and West, and guide future research on the role networks play in Chinese business.

Culture Matters: A Perspective Advancing Cross-Cultural and Indigenous Research

This special issue is devoted to celebrating and extending the scholarship of Kwok Leung, who passed away on May 25, 2015. Management and Organization Review is grateful to Michael W. Morris, Zhen Xiong (George) Chen, Lorna Doucet, and Yaping Gong for their thoughtful, instrumental effort in the publication of this special issue.


History and the Debate Over Intellectual Property

This article responds to recent calls for organizational research to address larger, more globally relevant questions and to pay attention to history, by analyzing the crucial debate over intellectual property rights (IPR) between the United States and China. Despite the recent US position, the United States has not always been a leading IPR advocate. Rather, it was a leading IPR violator during the nineteenth century. An institution-based view of IPR history suggests that both the US refusal to protect foreign IPR in the nineteenth century and the current Chinese lack of enthusiasm to meet US IPR demands represent rational choices. However, as cost-benefit considerations change institutional transitions are possible. We predict that to the same extent the United States voluntarily agreed to strengthen IPR protection when its economy became sufficiently innovation-driven, China will similarly improve its IPR protection.

Special Issue Introduction

A Giant of Cultural Research: Seeing Further from the Shoulders of Kwok Leung

This is a special issue in honor of Kwok Leung, whose path-breaking career in social psychology, cross-cultural psychology, organizational behavior, and international management was cut short by his untimely death in 2015. Newton said, ‘If I have seen further it is by standing on the shoulders of giants’. In cultural research, it's Kwok's shoulders that enable us to see further.


Early Network Events in the Later Success of Chinese Entrepreneurs

We trace the social networks around Chinese entrepreneurs back to their firm's founding to learn about the role early events play in the later success of a business. We use name generator questions paired with career history questions to identify ‘event contacts’ missed by the usual focus on current business. We draw four conclusions from interviews with a large, stratified random sample of entrepreneurs: (1) Relations with event contacts stand out for guanxi qualities of high trust relatively independent of the surrounding network structure, and are critical to distinguishing more successful entrepreneurs from the less successful. (2) The substance of a significant event matters less than the fact that the entrepreneur deems it significant. (3) When family is turned to for support it is most likely at founding, but family is not the usual source of support at founding. Rather, entrepreneurs turn to people they have known for many years, typically people beyond the entrepreneur's family. (4) The transition from founding to first significant event stands out as distinctly consequential for later success. Entrepreneurs who turn for help on their first significant event to a person separate from, but especially close to, the founding contact are more successful in their business development. That early move is not visible in the later network around the entrepreneur.


The Comparative Significance of Guanxi

Burt and Burzynska (2017) deliver a great piece of timely and innovative research on Chinese entrepreneurs, social networks, and guanxi . Among other merits, I am most impressed and inspired by two scholarly contributions this work has made to the comparative significance of social network analysis (SNA) and that of guanxi studies in organizational research.

Advancing Network Analysis of Chinese Businesses: Commentary on Burt and Burzynska

Burt and Burzynska (2017) have produced a very significant and innovative study on social networks among Chinese entrepreneurs. As the authors claim, this may be an exceptional dataset with certain unique features. It is a comparative study between Chinese and American entrepreneurs. While the American data is rather limited in scope, it does provide valuable theoretical and measurement information by which to examine possible similarities and differences of the private enterprises and entrepreneurs in these two societies. Second, it examines two general network principles, namely the association between brokerage and success, and between closure and trust. In general, the study affirms comparable results in the two societies, though somewhat different measurements require cautious interpretation. Third, the authors explore two innovative notions worthy of our attention. They employ events as the frames on which social ties (contacts) were generated (Table A1). This turns out to be very fruitful. For example, the founding event provided interesting social network information, more so than current and other events. The event-name generators reveal the time-related dynamics of network stability and changes, and alert us to possible underestimation of network effects if only the current event or the present time is examined. Finally, the authors attempt possible network measures for the notion of guanxi . This exploration sets the initial stage for more rigorous measures of guanxi in future studies of entrepreneurs in China and other societies.

Special Issue Articles

A Measurement Model for Dignity, Face, and Honor Cultural Norms

In this work we develop and validate a model measuring norms that distinguish three types of culture: dignity, face, and honor (Leung & Cohen, 2011). Our motivation is to produce empirical evidence for this new cultural framework and use the framework to explain cultural differences in interdependent social interactions such as negotiation. In two studies, we establish the content validity, construct validity, predictive validity, and measurement invariance of this measurement model. In Study 1, we present the model's three-factor structure and situate the constructs of dignity, face, and honor in a nomological network of cultural constructs. In Study 2, which uses a sample of participants from 26 cultures, we show that the measurement model discriminates among people from the three cultural regions corresponding to the dignity, face, and honor framework. In particular, we report differences between face and honor cultures, which are not distinguished in other cultural frameworks (e.g., Hofstede, 1980). We also show that the measurement model accounts for cultural differences in norms for use of negotiation strategy.


Recent Development of the Intellectual Property Rights System in China and Challenges Ahead

As Peng, Ahlstrom, Carraher, and Shi (2017) rightly noted, Intellectual Property Rights (IPR) protection in a country is not static. It evolves over time. Peng et al. (this issue) revealed through their historical analysis that during the 19 th century, the US was not a leading IPR advocate but a leading IPR violator. It was only when indigenous inventors, authors, and organizations of the US emerged and demanded protection of their IPR in foreign countries in the late 19 th century that the US passed the International Copyright Act (the Chace Act) in 1891 to extend IPR protection to foreign works. The US case illustrated that a country's IPR system as an institution evolves as its economy and society develop. If we examine this evolution over a relatively long time span, the change can be quite dramatic. Therefore, when reviewing a country's IPR system, an important question to be asked is in which direction the country's IPR system evolves.


Institutional Linkages with the State and Organizational Practices in Corporate Social Responsibility: Evidence from China

To deepen our understanding of organizations’ heterogeneous responses to institutional demand, we develop a ‘relational complexity’ argument to highlight organizations’ diverse institutional linkages as another important source of practice variation. We argue that diverse relations between organizations and the institutional authority can filter distinct institutional pressures and expectations, shape organizational interpretations of environmental demands, and thus trigger heterogeneous organizational practices. We adopt this theoretical framework and distinguish two types of institutional linkages with the state to understand different adoption patterns in corporate social responsibility (CSR) in its early stage of diffusion in China. Based on a national survey dataset consisting of 1,268 firms, our analyses show that firms having a stronger bureaucratic linkage with the state tend to focus on more visible external-oriented CSR practices. In contrast, those firms forming a closer partnership with the state through political or semi-political associations are more likely to take more extensive adoptions by further developing internal CSR structures. This study enriches the institutional analyses by shifting our attention to the relational dynamics between organizations and institutional authority as a key source of practice variation. It also has important implications to the research and practices of CSR in emerging economies.

Special Issue Articles

Cultural Values Versus Cultural Norms as Predictors of Differences in Helping Behaviors and in Emotion Regulation: A Preliminary Nation-Level Test Related to the Leung-Morris Model

Leung and Morris (2015) propose conditions under which values, norms, and schemata drive cultural differences in behavior. They build on past theories about dimensions of situational strength to propose that personal values drive behavior more in weak situations and perceived norms drive behavior more in strong situations. Drawing on this analysis as well as two recent models of cultural tightness-looseness, country-level effects are predicted on the assumption that tighter cultures more frequently create strong situations and looser cultures more frequently create weak situations. Using secondary data, I examine values as well as perceived descriptive norms and injunctive norms relevant to collectivism in relation to two key dependent measures: helping strangers and emotion regulation. The relation of embeddedness values to helping strangers is moderated negatively by tightness (in that high embeddedness reduces helping less in the context of tightness), and its relation to emotion regulation is moderated positively (in that embeddedness increases emotion regulation more in the context of tightness). Furthermore, descriptive norms show main effects for both dependent variables that are predominantly unmoderated by tightness. Finally, the link of injunctive norms with emotion regulation is moderated positively by tightness (in that injunctiveness heightens emotion regulation more in the context of tightness). Results support the relevance of nation-level tightness to reliance on values and norms, but the strength of effects depends on how it is operationalized.


Comment Upon History and the Debate Over Intellectual Property

The long historical view in Peng, Ahlstrom, Carraher, and Shi (2017), which discusses the issues regarding intellectual property rights (IPR) in China, is a welcome antidote to the overheated rhetoric in the public debate that characterizes China as a ‘pirate’ and slavish imitator. So, I thought that by engaging the paper obliquely, it might be possible to extend Peng et al.’s (2017) observations and conclusions. I will do this by contextualizing their observations about the history of IPR and then turn to the contemporary discussions of IPR and innovation in China.


Market Orientation, Growth Strategy, and Firm Performance: The Moderating Effects of External Connections

This study examines the mediating effect of growth strategy (including market and product expansion strategies) on the linkage of market orientation (MO) to firm performance and the moderating effects of a firm's external connections (including political and business ties) on the relationship between MO and growth strategy. It finds that both market and product expansion strategies are key conduits through which MO improves firm performance. In addition, the relationship between MO and market expansion strategy is positively moderated by political ties but negatively moderated by business ties, while the linkage of MO to product expansion strategy is moderated negatively by political ties but positively by business ties. By combining mediating and moderating effects in a framework that integrates MO, growth strategy, external connections, and firm performance, this study enriches our knowledge on the implications of MO and provides insight into factors that facilitate firm growth.

The Mailer Review/Volume 13, 2019/ Request

I was present at the death of a man named Edgar Stein.

I was driving back to New Orleans, just over the Tennessee-Mississippi line, listening to Bud Powell’s classic jazz piano playing Blue Pearl. My ancient van was holding its own in a tight line of speed-limit traffic when a tractor-trailer up ahead began drifting left and then slid sideways so it blocked both lanes. When it started rolling over, I jerked my hands hard right on the wheel to get myself out of the pile-up. There was no chance. The pickup behind me slammed into my rear bumper and pushed me violently forward into the RV ahead. There was a loud crash, metal twisting against metal, and everything went dark.

I tried to pull myself back into consciousness. It seemed to take an eternity. Finally managing to climb out of my vehicle and stumbling a few steps, I turned back to look. The front end of my van was significantly shortened, with steam rolling up thick enough to hide the RV it had smashed into. My mind was blurry, but it felt important to move away. I started to make my way along the line of wreckage, the scent of burning tires inescapable. Lucky to be alive. Aware enough to know it.

I turned to face the stranger who had taken my arm. “Gilbert.” It was a name I hadn’t answered to since childhood and had hated it even then.

The stranger sat me down on some damp grass next to an old man in a good suit and told me to stay put.

The man in the good suit was lying back on a slope looking at me with what I perceived to be dazed interest. He was thin. The hair on his head was in disarray and provided immediate insight into what he would have been without his tailor. But he did have the tailor, and the suit won out.

He raised himself onto one elbow and began to speak as if I were a confidant. Or maybe a priest.

I’ve never been able to remember everything he said. The accident had left me confused and only partly able to follow his recitation. Plus, I had no context for much of what he was saying.

From what I could glean, he was a child of the Delta made good and returning home on family business. His life, he believed, had been one of intent and achievement. He said something about treating one of his employees poorly, and he appeared to repent of it. Something about having saddled her with young people wearing gaming helmets roaming the streets of Baltimore.

I remember thinking I had misunderstood him. “Gaming? Out on the streets?”

He nodded. “They’re disguised.”

He looked confused. “No. The head gear.”

My mind, trained to analyze security threats and especially opportunities, began to create a list of uses for undetectable headgear, nefarious and otherwise. I struggled to make sense of it.

He reached into his suit coat and lifted out a deep brown leather wallet, holding it out to me until I received it. From another pocket, he retrieved a ring of keys and put them out to me as well.

Finally, he extracted a leather business card holder, pulled out one of the cards, and placed it face down on the holder. He handed them over to me along with an expensive-looking fountain pen. “Write this down.”

I balanced the card case on my knee as he dictated, “Emotion compromises calibration.”

It made no sense, and when I paused, he said, “Just write it. Emotion compromises calibration. He’ll figure it out. ”When I finished, he reached out for the card and examined what I’d written. He seemed a careful person, one accustomed to following up and attending to the details.

He handed back the card. “If I die, show that to Adamski.”

“If I live, you’ve no need to remember any of this. ”Trusting me to remain silent reinforced the idea that he thought me a priest.

He paused and gave me a hard look. “I don’t want my law firm involved in this in any way. ”There was something about the inflection in his voice. It sounded like a warning, not an instruction.

He took the pen back and repeated his directive, this time as a request. “Please see that . . .” His voice faltered. “. . . Adamski gets that.” He nodded toward the wallet. “That should cover any expenses you might have. Keep the rest for your trouble.”

The last effort seemed one bridge too far for him. He looked suddenly weak, and I remember thinking that he had exhausted his resources giving me my charge. He lay back and I sat quietly beside him, surveying the wreckage and the flashing red lights far in the distance.

When I looked again, he had rolled over and passed out.

I leaned over toward him, waved my hand in front of his eyes, checked for a pulse in his neck. Nothing. But I wasn’t at my best.

I looked around. There were others sitting along the grassy slope, but no one else was nearby except one other man facing away from us, talking softly to himself. I thought someone ought to give both him and my companion some attention. Then the other man lay back on the grass, and he too went silent.

I picked up the leather wallet and opened it. My swift and thorough inventory of the contents was force of a habit long abandoned but, in my fuzziness, recalled from some deep place. He had the usual identification, which told me his name was Stein, along with credit cards and about a thousand dollars. Except for the amount of cash, there was nothing out of the ordinary.

Knowing nothing about him and lacking any insight into what his message could mean, I reached over and placed the wallet back into the inside pocket of his suit coat, all its contents intact. I needed to know more. The fact that I had offered up my name as Gilbert underscored my haziness and that I should avoid making any decisions just yet. Stein’s thousand dollars was no inducement at all. I might still decide to act on his request, but if I kept the money, I’d feel an obligation that I was unwilling to accept. Memories of past unfortunate decisions lingered.

The business card with my writing on it was still in my hand. Wanting to restore some sort of order, I slid it back into his leather business card holder, counting. Third one down.

I often count things. It helps me to see patterns. I’m an analyst after all.

I slipped his card holder into my own pocket along with his keys, which had fallen onto the wet grass.

It felt right to have the business card holder with the message inside. I don’t know why I kept the keys.

The doctor stood over me. “You’ve had a blow to the head and you’ve got a concussion. We’re going to keep you here with us for a few days so we can monitor you. ”He consulted what I supposed was my chart. “It says here you have confusion and memory loss.”

I nodded. “I remember.” I wasn’t trying to be funny, and I appreciated that he didn’t laugh. “How long could this last?”

“We hope your symptoms will be gone in a few days. It might be a week or longer. There is something called ‘post-concussion syndrome,’ where the symptoms last longer than six weeks. It’s unusual, but it’s not outside the range of possibility. As you work through this, you can still expect to find there are things you can’t remember and you’ll probably still have periods of confusion. All that would be normal. ”He stopped talking for a moment, and I suspected he was trying to read my reaction. “How do you feel right now?”

I told him the truth. “Fuzzy.”

“Okay.” He offered no objection to the colloquial terminology. “Someone will be in later to check on you.”

When he was gone, I realized I should have asked if Marta had been notified. She was my emergency contact, a quick enough thinker to provide cover if needed. Also, she was taking care of my cat.

As promised, someone did come in later to check on me, and I asked for my effects. My cell was in the bottom of the plastic bag.

“I was in a pile-up south of Memphis. Some of the doctors are holding me for observation.”

“How are you feeling?” Marta got straight to the point.

I couldn’t think what to tell her. It was all I could do to focus.

“Fuzzy. Confusion and memory loss. But the doctor said it should pass.”

She did her best to pull more information out of me and then, probably to judge my level of coherence, she attempted to engage me in idle chatter, but with limited success. Finally, she asked, “Have you heard about Edgar Stein?”

I was beginning to drift off and didn’t have the energy to respond. But I did recognize it was Stein’s death that had been the biggest news item on the hospital TV blaring from the wall in my room. She tried a couple other topics, then said she would check back again the next day.

It couldn’t have been more than ten seconds after we hung up that it sunk in.

I had been present at the death of Edgar Stein.

The television news reports had been hammering the same few facts. That he had been cited in multiple lists as one of the richest people in the country. That he was notoriously private.

But the reports failed to delve further. Realizing whom I had encountered pulled me up out of my fog. Using my cell, I tried a deep internet dive. It showed him to have been a black hole into which money was inexorably drawn and from which none, or so it appeared, could hope to escape. And that his affairs were in the hands of Battersea, Welch, & Connor, an old and blackened firm whose roots traced to the eighteenth century where they dissolved unappealingly into rumor.

The search, intriguing as it was, exhausted me, but as I slipped the plastic bag containing my effects under my blanket tight against my side, I began to give serious thought to running the errand Stein had tried to send me on.

Maybe we could get something out of it.

For the past few years, I had been making my living by putting together bits of information that were just sitting around out in the open, not necessarily important by themselves but, in combination with other bits of information, quite valuable.

Nothing illegal. To Marta’s occasional frustration.

I drifted off to sleep with the thought that if one of the richest men in the country had asked me to take a dying message to somebody named Adamski, who was I to say no? Stein had invited me in. He had asked me to deliver the message, but he hadn’t told me how much or how long I could look around in the process. I could use that.

It was particularly intriguing that Stein had told me to keep all of this from his law firm, a condition I had not agreed to. Early the next day, as it happened, his law firm sent someone to see me in the hospital. He was a youngster named Mush, or perhaps Marsh I couldn’t tell in my haze. He introduced himself simply as representing Mr. Edgar Stein’s legal interests. I thought him strange.

My mind had been going in and out, and he showed up when it was mostly out. His attempt at conversation must have been unproductive because he promised to return at a more useful time. He had known, which meant that Battersea, Welch, and Connor must have known, that Stein had been found in my company, the two of us together in the shadow of an overturned vehicle.

It was a relief to finally settle back into my own place. The doctors had given me instructions for changing the bandages on my head and for managing my recurring vertigo. Walking was physically painful, and my dizziness didn’t help, so I mostly tried to stay still. Half the time, I couldn’t think straight. Other times, I was fine. I made the best use I could of the better times.

As was usual whenever I was on the road, Marta had been coming by to feed my cat Guilfoil. She enjoys interacting with him, but she’s not someone who would take on that level of full-time responsibility. She has her own life to lead and, despite her concern for me, it seemed that she was ready to get back to it. I hoped my situation wouldn’t inconvenience her too much longer.

The day after my return home, Mush reappeared. He introduced himself to Marta as she was leaving with my scrawled and poorly thought out grocery list. I had not spoken with her about Stein’s message and the possibility of us getting something out of it, but I could see in her face that she suspected potential opportunity in Mush as she turned at the door to give me a questioning look. Over the years, I had learned to pay attention when someone pinged Marta’s radar. Of the two of us, she was the better at reading people.

Marta’s interest coincided with my own intentions. I was already keen to get Mush to spill something about his employers, since Stein had been firm about keeping them out of the loop. And here was Mush showing up for no good reason that I could see, other than to get information out of me instead. I wished my head were clearer as I sat on my sofa, impatient with myself for feeling like an invalid.

Noting my immobility, Mush made an effort to ingratiate himself that I found annoying. “Can I get you anything?”

“Club soda. Lemon and no ice.” I hadn’t intended the snark, it just slipped out.

Guilfoil looked me over and arched his back to be petted. Mush brought me my drink. It was tap water.

“When you were with Mr. Stein, did he give you . . .” Mush faded into a blur and must have let himself out.

Guilfoil is a good cat to have at the end of the world. He can be left to his own devices, but when his friends reappear, he shines. When he was with me, it was easier to focus.

Mush returned the next day and the days after that. “Trying to be helpful,” he said. “Mr. Stein would have wanted us to look out for you.” He brought me things. He offered to put in a servant, but I was against it. He continued to ask if Stein had given me anything, if I had talked with Stein at any great length, and, if so, what Stein might have said. I had been observed, he said, in apparent conversation with Stein. “Are you sure he didn’t give you anything?” Mush was persistent. He had an interest.

I was keeping Mush on the hook to see if he would let slip something I could use. He asked if I would speak with one of Stein’s colleagues, to see if that would jog my memory. It seemed a way to get information, and I smiled politely and said sure.

We drove through the streets of St. Bernard Parish. Katrina lingered in memory. Insurance companies had said they wouldn’t insure some areas any more. In the post-insurance world, Mush looked out through the windshield and ignored me. I read the numbers on the houses.

Mush turned to me. “Mr. Stein was developing gaming helmets. Do you know what those are?”

“Headgear. They read your brain waves, and you can control a computer game with your mind.”

I thought that perhaps Mush had asked me this before and that perhaps I had been unresponsive, which would explain his having asked me again. Or perhaps he wanted to see whether my answer would change as my mind became less blurry. I withheld judgment.

Mush probed. “His company was called Brain Game. Did he mention it to you?”

“I don’t think so.” That was true. I didn’t remember the name.

It seemed necessary to add, “They don’t work very well.”

I meant that gaming helmets tended not to work as well as people wanted them to. Stein hadn’t mentioned them not working well. Instead, I knew of such things from attempts by friends and enemies to develop military applications. And from some other arenas.

Military applications were a very different thing.

For some reason, I wondered whether Stein’s helmets worked better. I just had that feeling, but resisted the temptation to ask.

Mush interrupted my thoughts. “Did he mention Baltimore?”

“No.” It wasn’t true, of course. Stein had mentioned both gaming helmets and Baltimore. Young people wearing gaming helmets roaming the streets. As he had said, disguised.

The gaming helmets. Not the young people.

My mind went again to reasons you would disguise something. Threats and opportunities.

What you would do with gaming helmets out on the street.

Mush turned the car toward the curb.

We walked through tall grass toward the door. Bugs jumped.

The woman who opened the door knew Mush. She was holding a gun in her hand, casually, as if she had forgotten it was dangling loosely from her fingers. Not between two fingers, but just casually, as if it were the usual thing. Mush showed only tenuous interest. He complemented her on it, called it an Adams something. It was large.

She stood back so we could go in. Mush went first.

“This is the gentleman who was with Mr. Stein when he died.” The woman told me hello.

“I don’t know him.” Mush nodded but showed no inclination to leave.

“You’re sure?” Mush was willing to wait. “Take your time.”

The woman placed the revolver on a nearby table. She impressed me as eccentric, an impression based on my old life, when that sort of thing, eccentricity and its possible ramifications, had to be noted and taken as a signal of consequence. Especially when paired with an apparently casual firearm. Marta would have noted this and made something useful of it. For a moment, I regretted that she was not there to help size things up.

I looked around. Like my own home, the furnishings were inexpensive and few, easy to replace or abandon.

I made an attempt to be cordial. “You have a lovely home here.”

“Well, then that’s that. ”Mush stood up and I stood with him. The woman sat watching us as we went through the room toward the door. She finally got up and came after us.

Mush turned to me. “I think that you’ve no need to see me again. ”He led the way back through the tall grass toward his car. “I’ll drop you at home.”

“Thanks.” I slid into the passenger seat.

Mush and I could have been at an end if I had let it drop there. But I couldn’t help myself. There was too much curiosity and potential for gain. Later, the street name was beyond my recall, but it didn’t matter because I had the house number and images of adjacent yards. I didn’t know it then, but returning would almost guarantee that Mush and I would cross paths again.


This magazine started life in August 1965, as 'Soccer Review'. The brainchild of Leicester-based journalist Harry Brown, the magazine was designed to be sold in conjuction with clubs' matchday programmes, giving news, views and information from across all four divisions of the Football League. The first issue was published on 21 August 1965, with Birmingham City and Leeds United among clubs who gave out the magazine for free. The idea was, in Brown's words, for the magazine to "play a big part in the modern, more intimate relationship between clubs and supporters". Thirty-four editions were produced in the 1965/66 season and the magazine was deemed a huge success.

After one season as 'Soccer Review', the magazine underwent a change in name to 'The Football League Review' and became much more closely aligned with The Football League. More and more clubs started including the magazine as an insert to the programme. Looking back, you could argue that this gave programme editors an excuse to cut back on content, with many clubs wrapping the FLR with the bare minimum information on the particular game. As production techniques improved (along with the amount of money available to pay for them), the quality improved and more and more clubs began taking 'The Review' as part of their matchday offering. By the end of 1967/68, the Football League Review was shifting an average 358,000 copies a week. In 1968/69, around 70 of the 92 League clubs were including the Review but all was not rosy in the camp. Increasing losses led to the publication going into liquidation in early 1969/70. The magazine was then taken over by The Football League itself. Harry Brown stepped down as editor in January 1971 after overseeing 217 editions. His relationship with Football League Secretary Alan Hardaker was deteriorating and Brown was never going to win that particular fight.

After six seasons as The Football League Review, the magazine underwent another name change for the 1972/73 season, surfacing as 'League Football'. Costs were being squeezed and clubs, led by the innovators of Coventry City (Jimmy Hill in particular) were paying much more attention to the quality of their match programme. It survived in this format for two-and-a-half seasons, before finally ceasing publication with issue number 920 in January 1975.

In total, 366 issues were published and they have become a fantastic record of the Football League in the late 60s and early 70s. A feature of the magazine was the photography. Peter Robinson, a graduate of The Royal College of Art, was the man tasked with filling the space and his incredible eye for the different, quirky and unusual was given full reign in The Review. Some of Peter’s work can be seen on his website The Saturday Man - it’s well worth a visit.

Albion included the FLR for three season, from 1967/68 to 1969/70. For a look at the Albion mentions in the Football League Review, click HERE

I loved it then and I love it even more now. Every single one of the magazines gives a little throwback to the days before multi-millionaire players and state-of-the-art stadiums. Clubs in Division Four are just as likely to be featured as those in the top flight.

This is a summary of the life of an iconic magazine. Many of the words above came from the superb 'Soccerama' book, edited by Hyder Jawad. More information can be obtained HERE

Full scans will be added as soon as possible and click on the links below for the individual volumes

Review: Volume 13 - Football - History

Air Motion -- dead air is, well, not a physiological hazard, but at least a tiny psychological strain for many people. If you are such, place these two-inch white cubes on shelves or in corners around your house. The tools' fields are large-scale diffuse fans, which induce gentle air currents on a slow-shifting random schedule. As a bonus, you can mark particular rooms as "smells good" or "smells bad" -- the logic will circulate that air throughout the space or keep it somewhat localized, as you like. The fields are rated gas-only standard and bottom-tier precedence, so no hassle or interference.

The process is certainly expensive, and it is not clear how long the spheres can last before abrasion turns them back into simple white sand. Nonetheless, the stream of property-owners willing to drop money into the effect has not slackened.

Naturally, the beams themselves are invisible. They illuminate the poles, dimly (the emitters are baffled). Their most striking effect: whenever a person walks into or out of an area, he is briefly a silhouette of brilliant flowing dots of light.

The laser light gives a pleasingly antique, grainy atmosphere to the showroom floor. But the spatial connotations are interesting as well. The boundaries become secondary one sees people, passing from one space to another, and the boundaries are mere consequences of that passage. The flow of movement is more visible than what is moving. You can spot areas of interest, gatherings and dispersings, from anywhere in the hall. An exhibitor's attention is drawn immediately to a new entry to his area. (The laser colors vary randomly, in blues, greens, and violets, from place to place around the showroom. If you stand in one spot, you quickly learn the local colors.)

Or, you can simply appreciate the quaint visual overload of the light show.

Review: Volume 13 - Football - History

T he Fall 2020 Issue of Tsinghua China Law Review comes amid an uplifting historic moment in the decades of a legislative marathon — the Chinese Civil Code will take effect at the beginning of the year 2021. We for the first time open the China Law Update column to law school students at home and abroad, calling for submission to stimulate discussion on this newly enacted legislation. The Civil Code not only marks a milestone in the progress of China’s legal system, but also has a profound influence on the way people interact with each other in the Chinese contemporary society.

Besides the Civil Code, as ever, this issue provides our readers with a variety of scholarly articles in order to keep with our goal to promote understanding and a critical examination of the issues impacting Chinese law. The articles cover a broad range of subjects, including the transplantation of the business judgement rule into China’s Company Law, the significance of the pre-inauguration oath in the context of One Country Two Systems, China’s practices in international anticorruption cooperation, and the classical Confucianism under the legal realism approach.

In the article entitled A Statutory Business Judgment Rule for China’s Company Law: Theoretical and Comparative Considerations, Dr. Kevin M. Hubacher engages into the discussion of the business judgment rule, a principle of corporate governance with longevity. Based on the widely accepted elements pertinent to the business judgment rule, the author identifies that China’s Company Law for joint stock limited companies has all the prerequisites to transplant this rule. After assessing the feasibility of the legal transplantation, the author argues that China should recognize the value of authority granted to the board of directors and the board of supervisors and implement a due process based ex post review of their business decisions.

In the article entitled AN OATH: Constitutional Dialogue Between Chinese Law and Common Law, as a serious reflection on the Oaths case of four legislators in Hong Kong, Dr. Priscilla M.F. Leung examines the prestigious status of the oath both in China and common law jurisdictions. The author finds that an oath taker’s failure to adhere to his oath will result in legal consequences such as disqualification, which is a constitutional moment where Chinese law and common law agree.

In the article entitled On the UN Convention Against Transnational Organized Crime and Convention Against Corruption in China: Domestic Efforts and International Cooperation, Professor Shang Haowen and Dr. Huang Gui explore the challenges and approaches to accept and implement the UN Convention Against Transnational Organized Crime and the UN Convention Against Corruption in China. The authors argue that political and national interests as well as anticorruption strategy considerations are the challenges facing the acceptance of the two conventions, which should be solved by good governance, rule of law and the integration of the conventions into the national legal framework. In addition, China’s remarkable achievements in the international anticorruption cooperation practice are clearly delineated.

In the article entitled Legal Realism and Chinese Law: Are Confucian Legal Realists, Too? , Professor Norman P. Ho brings a new perspective on the classical Confucianism. The author argues that the classical Confucian legal thought and approaches to adjudication are best understood as an American legal realist approach to law and adjudication. With a more macroscopic view, the author hopes to bring the Confucian legal thought more into the dialogue with Western theories.

In the China Law Update column, the first note entitled China’s Recent Civil Law Codification in the High-tech Era: History, Innovations, and Key Takeaways leads the readers to grasp the Chinese Civil Code from the history to the present. Mr. Dessie Tilahun Ayalew first reviews the codification of civil law in China’s history, and then focuses on the newly adopted Civil Code. Through his observation, the author summarizes the innovative improvements of the Civil Code in three aspects and analyzes their inspirations for other civil law jurisdictions.

The next two notes concern one of the highlights in the Chinese Civil Code — the personal data protection. In the note entitled Personal Information Protection Under Chinese Civil Code: A Newly Established Private Right in the Digital Era, Mr. Raymond Yang Gao compares the protection of personal information before and after the adoption of the Chinese Civil Code. The author argues that the Civil Code enshrines the right of personal information protection as a specific personality right, and extends the legal protection of this right. Moreover, the Civil Code also sets forth the private law foundation for subsequent legislations on personal information protection.

In the note entitled The Civil Code and the Private Law Protection of Personal Information, Mr. Xu Duoye reviews the scattered landscape of personal information protection, and then turns to analyze the unified structure under the Civil Code. The author discusses that although the main structure of personal information protection is inherited from the previous laws, the legislators make important modifications in the Civil Code.

Beyond the subject above, in the note entitled In the Context of Chinese Constitutionalism and the Hong Kong Basic Law: Is “Separation of Powers” a Delusionary Product?, Mr. Fu Kwong Or discusses the doctrine of separation of powers, a meaningful topic in the current Hong Kong society. In the discourse of Chinese Constitutionalism and the context of the Hong Kong Basic Law, the author critically examines the validity of the assertion that the “Separation of Powers” exists in the Hong Kong Special Administrative Region of China.

We wish to extend our sincere gratitude and appreciation of fellow editors for their wholehearted time and effort devoted to the publication of this issue. Especially, we are extremely grateful to Professor Gao Simin of the Tsinghua University School of Law for her mentorship.

We would like to thank Professor Shen Weixing, the Dean of Tsinghua University School of Law, for his firm support and warm encouragement. Special thanks go to the Tsinghua University Humanities and Social Sciences Development Initiative for its generous financial support for this issue.

The Modern Language Review Volume 13

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Biotechnology is a diverse, complex and rapidly evolving field. Students and experienced researchers alike face the challenges of staying on top of developments in their field of specialty and maintaining a broader overview of the field as a whole. Volumes containing competent reviews on a diverse range of topics in the field fulfill the dual role of broadening and updating biotechnologists’ knowledge. The current volume is an excellent example of such a book. The topics covered range from classical issues in biotechnology - such as, recent advances in all-protein chromophore technology- to topics that are focused on sequencing and recombinant vaccines. The information presented in this book will therefore will be of great value to both experienced biotechnologists and biotechnologists in training.

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