The chairman switched his attention to her. “Ms. Humphries,” he said, “as you now control 5 percent of the company’s shares, it is my duty to ask who you will be supporting as chairman.”
Lloyd Summers continued to mop his brow, but couldn’t bring himself to look in Angela’s direction. She herself appeared remarkably calm and composed. She waited until there was total silence.
“Mr. Chairman, it will come as no surprise to you that I wish to support the man who I believe will serve the foundation’s best interests.” She paused as Armstrong stood up and waved in her direction, but the glare of the television arc-lights made it impossible for her to see him. The chairman appeared to relax.
“The trust casts its 5 percent in favor of—” she paused again, obviously enjoying every moment “—Mr. Keith Townsend.”
A gasp went up around the room. For the first time, the chairman was speechless. He dropped his gavel on the floor and stared open-mouthed at Angela. A moment later he recovered it as well as his composure, and began calling for order. When he felt he could be heard, he asked, “Are you aware, Ms. Humphries, of the consequences of switching the foundation’s vote at this late stage?”
“I mostly certainly am, Mr. Chairman,” she replied firmly.
A bevy of Armstrong’s lawyers were already up on their feet protesting. The chairman banged his gavel on the table again and again. Once the noise had subsided, he announced that as Ms. Humphries had pledged the foundation’s 5 percent of stock in favor of Mr. Townsend, thus giving him 51 percent to Mr. Armstrong’s 46, he was therefore left with no choice under standing order 11A, subsection d, but to declare Mr. Keith Townsend the new chairman of the New York Star.
The two hundred shareholders who had arrived in the hall late rose and cheered on cue like well-rehearsed film extras as Townsend made his way up onto the stage. Armstrong stormed out of the room, leaving his lawyers to carry on with their protests.
Townsend began by shaking hands with Cornelius Adams, the former chairman, and each of the members of the board, though none of them looked particularly pleased to see him.
He then took his place at the front of the stage and looked down into the noisy hall. “Mr. Chairman, ladies and gentlemen,” he said, tapping the microphone, “may I begin by thanking you, Mr. Adams, and the board of the Star, for the service and inspired leadership you have all given the company over the years, and may I wish every one of you success in whatever it is you choose to do in the future.”
Tom was glad that Townsend couldn’t see the expressions on the faces of the men seated behind him.
“Let me assure the shareholders of this great paper that I will do everything in my power to continue to uphold the traditions of the Star. You have my word that I will never interfere in the editorial integrity of the paper, other than to remind every journalist of the words of the great Manchester Guardian editor C.P. Scott, which have been the benchmark of my professional life: ‘Comment is free, but facts are sacred.’”
The actors rose from their places again and began applauding on cue. When the noise finally died down, Townsend ended by saying, “I look forward to seeing you all again in a year’s time.” He banged the gavel and declared the AGM closed.
Several people in the front row leapt up again to continue their protest, while two hundred others carried out their instructions. They rose and began to make their way toward the exit, talking loudly among themselves. Within minutes, the room was cleared of all but a handful of protesters addressing an empty stage.
As Townsend left the room, the first thing he asked Tom was, “Have you drawn up a new lease on the foundation’s old building?”
“Yes, it’s in my office. All it requires is your signature.”
“And there will be no increase in rent?”
“No, it’s fixed for the next ten years,” said Tom. “As Ms. Humphries assured me it would be.”
“And her contract?”
“Also for ten years, but at a third of Lloyd Summers’s salary.”
As the two men stepped out of the hotel, Townsend turned to his lawyer and said, “So all I have to do now is decide whether to sign it or not.”
“But I’ve already made a verbal agreement with her,” said Tom.
Townsend grinned at his attorney as the hotel manager and several cameramen, photographers and journalists pursued them to their waiting car.
“My turn to ask you a question,” said Tom as they slipped into the back seat of the BMW.
“Go ahead.”
?
?Now it’s all over, I’d just like to know when you came up with that masterstroke to defeat Armstrong.”
“About forty years ago.”
“I’m not sure I understand,” said the lawyer, looking puzzled.
“No reason why you should, Brother Tom, but then, you weren’t a member of the Oxford University Labor Club when I failed to become chairman simply because I had never read the statute book.”