Who is Mr. Average? — Chapter I — Visitors

So, now I can tell his story. We buried old Dad this morning, right next to Mom. Father of three, grandfather of ten, great grandfather of two.

All of us kids kept our promise. We never told anyone who he was. He was Clark Kent and Bruce Wayne, always. We swore, sometimes on a skyscraper of books he had set up, that for as long as he lived no one must ever know who he was, other than Henry Mellon from Mundelein, Illinois.

We kept our promise. And now that he’s gone, what stories we can tell our families! Jenny was with me at the interment site when the reporter from National Enquirer asked me if “the dearly departed was who he thinks he was”, with a wink-wink. I asked him to come over to the house later on, after my sisters Sharon and Katie and I got through all the stuff in the attic. There are some things up there that the reporter would be interested in, I’m sure.

My dad was the most influential person in America, and no one knew who he was. Well, other than those folks at the agency who made him agree to the secret. They’re all gone now.

Cardinal Foods, Mundelein, April 1958

“Has anyone seen Henry? I need him up front”.

“I’m here, Mr. Slagg.” Henry jogged toward the checkout, fastening his apron while on the go. He pulled a craft bag from beneath the end of the counter and snapped it in place, filling it with cans, one by one, and then a few ears of corn.

Slagg raised his voice as construction continued on Division Street. “How can you work with all that racket?” asked his customer, raising her voice as well. “They’re finally paving the road. They’ll even put in curbs and a driveway into the parking lot,” Slagg bellowed. She took a couple of ones and picked out a few coins from her change purse, put it on the counter, and then walked off.

Henry waved goodbye to the woman, as she centered her broad brimmed hat and gestured with her hand as one might take an oath.

Slagg’s smile disappeared quickly. “Henry, there is still the cleanup on the center aisle that I asked you to take care of more than ten minutes ago. When you’re done with that, I need for you to uncrate the dairy and stock the cold unit. Then you need to take inventory so that we can put in our order for tomorrow before we close in three hours. And there’s an order that Otto’s putting together now that needs to be delivered to the old folks’ home.”

Henry organized his tasks in his head, nodding after memorizing each one. He then realized that he had three hours to get four hours of work done. “Getting started now, Mr. Slagg.” Henry jogged off to grab a mop that was in the bucket at the back of the store.

Slagg called out, “How’s the family, Henry?” Continuing his jog, Henry called back, “Fine. Baby Sharon’s three month’s old now.”

“Hey, did you know I got a new car?”

“What’s you get?”

“A Studebaker. They’re the old Packard people so you know it’s a good car.”

Henry calculated a little, eyes moving left then right. “’Shoulda gotten a Ford Fairlane, Mr. Slagg. More value and it’ll last longer. Maybe next time.”

Slagg stared blankly at Henry, watching as he mopped up a spilled bottle of prune juice. He shook his head in concern and muttered, “Mister Know-It-All”.

Davis Duncan Randolph and Moran, Chicago, August 1958

A curtain of white noise enveloped the huge office suite.

“DDR&M, please hold.”

“Hello, are you still holding for Mr. Anthony?”

Two suits walked by. “I told him to go with less text. Who wants to park on a display ad for ten minutes.” “And, what did he say?” They walked off.

Muffled voices in a glass fronted office. “I’m sure if we start the commercial with a ping pong game, we will grab everyone’s attention.” “Well, Philips-Rogers wanted the commercial to start with a song.”

Suddenly, a scream one could only compare to that of a howler monkey froze the entire office place. A young, bespectacled suit swung open an office door and sprinted down three offices with paper waving in hand. He opened the door and flung himself in. Behind the desk, a figure gestured like a counterman as the victim of a holdup. The door slammed shut. Again, the howler monkey scream.

Bill Swenson was a motivated, energetic marketing intern who earned his way to become a full-time junior account executive. His partner was Larry Moreland, a recent Columbia grad with a marketing degree. Both had been attempting to earn respect from the boss, David Moran, managing partner and son of one of the founders of the agency. Larry and Bill were not yet entrusted with actual clients. Instead, they were put on bureaucratic assignments in support of the actual account executives.

Bill wheezed, trying to catch his breath. Larry looked on impatiently. The officeplace remained silent, still in awe as they tried to glimpse into Larry’s office, much as one would look with wonder into a Macy’s Christmas window.

“Eureka!” Bill bellowed. He slammed the sheet of paper onto Larry’s desk. “We have found him!” David Moran walked briskly to Larry’s office, waving everyone to get back to work. He opened the door, them closed it after walking in. “What’s going on here?” he asked.

Bill, still out of breath, managed to wheeze out a few words. “We have found him! He’s perfect! He’s one hundred percent perfect! He scored one hundred percent! Look!” He snatched the paper that Larry had started reading and thrust it onto Moran’s lap. Moran picked it up and read through it for a minute. Always even-tempered, Moran pursed his lips and then managed somewhat of a smile. “Do you boys want to make your way out to this Podunk, Illinois town?”

“Podunk!” Larry composed himself for a moment and then blurted out, “Mundelein is the most average town in the United States of America! It may be out in The Boonies, halfway to Wisconsin, but it’s the Rosetta Stone! He’s the Rosetta Stone!”

Moran stood up and opened the door. “I’d better go with you. I’ll have Elaine look him up.”

Diamond Lake, Mundelein, Dusk, Next Day

As had become a summer tradition, the Mellons would all spend time together after supper, on a bench they called their own, on the banks of the lake. It was a short walk. Today, Jackie pushed Sharon’s stroller. Jay (shortened from Henry Junior) was a few steps behind, preoccupied with a marble boulder he held up to the lowering sun. Katie tagged behind Jay, attempting to hop on one foot all the way to the lake. Jay would be weeks away from the start of third grade and Katie excited to be starting the first grade.

Henry and Jackie assumed their assigned positions on the bench. A couple of fishermen were active on the eastern bank by the boat dock. The sun reflected orange over the lake. A flock of Canada Geese squawked overhead. Everything was as it had been for years. This was Mundelein. Division Street was getting paved.

Henry collected a few rocks and tossed them one by one into the water. Ker-plunk then widening rings.

“I should have checked with you,” Henry started, “but we have some gentlemen coming over after dinner tomorrow night. They wanted you to be there.”

“What for?” Jackie looked back at Henry, puzzled.

“They didn’t say. I think they’re probably encyclopedia salesmen.”

“We don’t need encyclopedias. Why’d you say okay?” Jackie seemed a bit peeved.

“Well, in a few years we’ll be needing encyclopedias for the kids. Doesn’t hurt to hear what they have to say. I think World Book is better for children than Brittanica.”

Jackie thought for a moment, then jumped up to grab Katie who had wandered too close to the water. “But you don’t even know that they’re encyclopedia salesmen.”

“Nah,” Henry said as he picked up a long blade of grass to fidget with, “Just figured. You know, some of those encyclopedia and Fuller Brush salesmen make good money.”

“Henry, you have a good job at the Cardinal.”

“But there’s nowhere for me to go. Bill Slagg manages the store and I’m one of his workers. There’s nothing in between. Our family is growing and it won’t be long before the girls will want their own bedrooms and so will Jay. My raises aren’t enough to keep up and who knows what will happen to the Cardinal after Dominick’s opens next year.”

“So?” Jackie said quietly in a comforting voice. “Then you will work at Dominick’s. It will all work out.”

“No Jackie, it won’t all work out. I make $75 a week just like every other man. I want to improve our standard of living. I don’t want to stay still like everybody else. I’m not happy being like everybody else.”

Jackie attempted to calm her husband who was becoming agitated. “Did you want to go back to trade school in Libertyville? You did well with the electrical course.”

“I don’t think so. They were supposed to have placed me in a job.”

Jackie picked up Baby Sharon, put a pacifier in her mouth, and tried to rock her back to sleep. “I saw a Help Wanted sign outside that typewriter repair shop on Route 60. You’re good with taking things apart and fixing them.”

Henry shook his head. “Nah, no future in typewriters. He fixes adding machines, tape recorders, and televisions, too. I don’t think any of those things have a future.”

“Oh come on, Henry,” Jackie snapped back, “what office doesn’t have typewriters and adding machines?”

Henry nodded disagreement. “You’re right as far as today goes, but with the Russians putting that Sputnik satellite into space last year, I don’t think there will be a future for mechanical things. I want a job with a future, something more than $75 a week.”

Jay had attempted to somersault down the slope towards the water. Jackie grabbed his arm and pulled him towards her. “We ought to go. I want to get the kids into bed.”

The Mellon House, Next Evening

Henry arrived home exhausted. Otto hadn’t shown up and so he had to unload the trucks on his own as Slagg minded the store. He plopped himself into the kitchen chair, looking over at The Tribune’s headline on the other side of the table. Baby Sharon’s tray was smeared with an orange goo. Jay’s place was littered with crumbs. The only evidence that Katie had eaten supper was the milk ring at her place.

Jackie walked over to the table with damp dishrag in tow. As she wiped up the table, she said, “I have casserole coming out of the oven. You’re just in time.”

“Thanks. I didn’t have time for lunch today. I just want to eat and then watch some television and go to sleep.”

Katie bopped in holding “The Jolly Barnyard”, a Little Golden Book her grandma had given her for her birthday a few months back. She climbed onto Henry’s lap and thrust the book onto his chest. “Let’s read this together again, Daddy,” she said excitedly.

Henry put up his hand, gesturing her to slow down. “Sweetie, why don’t you go to your room and read it yourself. I’ll be in before bedtime and we can read it together.” He reached under her arms and put her down. She scampered off but before leaving the kitchen she stopped to inquire, “Something smells funny,” and then she disappeared.

Jackie walked to the table, having taken the casserole from the oven while wearing two oversized oven mitts. “Careful, it’s hot,” she said as she placed the dish onto a folded dish towel. She returned with two dinner plates and silverware. She shoved a soup spoon into the casserole.

“Not so fast, mister,” she said now having sat down. “You have that meeting with those men who called you. No television for you tonight,” she said.

“Yeah, I know,” Henry said as he scooped a couple of spoonsful onto his plate. “I’m hoping they get here soon. I asked them to come after supper. It shouldn’t take long to get rid of encyclopedia salesmen or whatever they’re selling.”

Henry stood up and walked to the other side of the kitchen. “Do we still have that bottle of pop in the fridge?” He reached for a glass in the dish drainer. “I think so,” Jackie replied.

Diiiiiiing Donnnnnnnng.

“Oh, for Heaven’s sake,” Henry growled. “Doesn’t this top off a wonderful day!”

The house suddenly erupted into chaos. Jay rushed from his bedroom towards the front door, two little green soldiers in hand. Katie ran to the edge of the hallway adjoining the living room to steal a peek at who might have rung the doorbell. Jackie walked briskly to Baby Sharon’s crib as the bell had startled her awake. And, just as Jackie had picked her up, the yellow kitchen wall phone rung as loud as a fire alarm.

Jackie ran back to the kitchen with baby in arm. She cradled the phone from her shoulder as she slid the pocket door closed, but not so much that she wouldn’t hear what would be going on in the living room.

Henry walked to the door. He cuddled Jays shoulder and opened the door. Standing before him were three well-groomed men, each in business suits black, blue, and gray, and each with thin black ties over white shirts.

“Mr. Mellon?” one of them asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, I’m Henry Mellon.” Henry could tell that they were a bit out of place. Mundelein was a working man’s town where most men didn’t have suits even for church.

One of the others smiled and extended his hand. Henry reached out and shook it. “Mind if we come in?”

“Oh yes, please come in,” Henry said, somewhat embarrassed at what might have been construed as his inhospitality.

Henry brushed away a few toys from the L-shaped sofa and asked Jay to take them into his room.

From the kitchen, Jackie eyed the living room and spoke quietly, “Mother we have some company. I’ll probably need to go soon.” She then said in a quieter tone, “I’m not sure who they are. They look like government men.”

Having walked in but still at the doorway, they introduced themselves. “I’m Larry Moreland.” He reached into his jacket and took a card from a silver card holder and handed it to Henry. Before Henry had a chance to read it, he heard “I’m Bill Swenson. Larry and I are kind of like partners. My card.” Now Henry was holding two cards without reading either. “And I’m David Moran. Larry and Bill work for me.” Moran reached into his front jacket pocket and pulled out his card and gave it to Henry. Now he was holding three cards.

Henry waived the fanned cards. “Please sit down.” They each sat on the same sofa. Henry noticed for the first time that Larry had brought a fat briefcase that he had set down at his feet. Must be his samples, Henry thought.

“We are so excited to meet you, Henry.” Bill said with a smile.

“Well,” Henry said, “welcome to my home.”

“I know you don’t understand why we’re here, Henry,” Larry said. He opened his briefcase and took out a measuring tape. “Would you mind standing up and turning around?”

Henry slowly stood up, confused. Larry darted up, placed his hands on Henry’s shoulders, and turned him around. He held the tape at the back of Henry’s head. “Bill, would you take the tape to the floor and give me a read?”

Bill brought the tape taut and pinched it to the carpet. He put his head to the ground and read, “Five feet, eight and one-half inches.” Larry crumbled up the tape and returned it to his briefcase.

“Exactly!” Larry excitedly said. “And,” he continued, “you weigh one hundred fifty …”

“… four pounds,” Henry said with suspicion.

The kitchen pocket door squeaked as Jackie closed it so that only a sliver was now open. “Oh my gosh, Mother,” she whispered, “they are government men. They’re measuring Henry. I think they’re recruiting him for the astronaut program!”

Larry looked over towards the hallway, where both children were now standing, Jay with his army men and Katie with her Golden Book. He smiled at them. They smiled back with a smile one has when he doesn’t feel like smiling.

“You live in a three-bedroom house, have a job that pays three thousand, eight hundred and fifty dollars a year, you’re thirty and your wife is twenty-eight.”

“Now just one minute,” Henry said with concern.

Larry continued, “And you have …” He pointed to Katie, “one …” and then to Jay, “two …”.

“I have to go, Mother. Call me in an hour.”

Jackie slid open the pocket door and slowly walked in. Larry took notice that she was carrying Baby Sharon. He pointed to the baby, “point two children!”

Bill and David Moran laughed. Bill brought out a sheet of paper from his inside jacket pocket. “And,” he said as he rolled his index finger down a list, “your typical springtime electric bill is $7.73.” He looked smugly at Henry.

Jackie walked towards the men. She put a hand to Baby Sharon’s back. “Hi, I’m Jackie,” she said with a smile. All three men uniformly stood up and said, “How do you do?” and then sat back down. Jackie sat down beside Henry. Katie and Jay gingerly walked to Jackie and Henry. Katie buried her head in Henry’s lap. Henry pulled her thumb from her mouth.

Jackie smiled and said, “I baked Henry’s favorite pie this afternoon. Everyone up for dessert?”

David Moran spoke up. “I’m always up for apple pie,” he said.

Jackie cocked her head in puzzlement. “Don’t be concerned,” he said to Jackie. “I know it seems we know everything about Henry, but it’s nothing he hasn’t told us.”

Henry looked down at their business cards. “You work for DDR&M. Is that like a pretend government business?”

The three men laughed. Moran took charge. “Jackie, why don’t you sit down. You both have an explanation coming.”

Moran took the sheet of paper from Bill Swenson’s hand. He looked down at it periodically as he spoke. “Henry, while you were at Sheridan Vocational School in Libertyville a couple of months ago, do you recall taking a survey that lasted for more than a day?”

“I do remember that,” Henry recalled. There were all sorts of questions that were kinda personal in nature. We were told that we had to answer them all, so I did. None of the questions were about why we were at the school, though.”

“I know,” Moran continued. “Davis, Duncan, Randolph, and Moran is a specialized marketing firm. Before new products go to market, we evaluate their chances for being successful. As a result, a lot of products we are asked to evaluate never see the light of day, so to speak. Any questions so far?”

“It’s interesting but it wouldn’t have anything to do with me,” Henry said as he hugged Jay by the shoulder.

“I don’t get any of this,” Jackie said, confused.

“As you can imagine, the only thing we have to sell is our credibility. If we recommend a product to go to market and it flops, then we would lose the client and could go out of business just like that.” He snapped his fingers that startled Jackie.

“Our clients are the largest name brands whose products I see around your house, and everybody else’s house. Their customers are very mainstream, middle-income consumers. To evaluate their products in development, we have several testers who we think would be the types of people who would be their customers. Frankly, we have more than a hundred of them. In the end, we average their comments to make our recommendation. It’s an imperfect system and we hold our collective breath every time we present our reports.”

Jackie stood up. “Can you hold that thought for a moment? I have a casserole I have to put in the fridge and a baby to put to sleep.

As if on cue, the three men stood up and said, practically in unison, “Sure.”

Jackie disappeared into the hallway. Henry looked again at their business cards and then asked, “What’s on that paper you folks have passed around?”

“We’re almost there, Henry. Let’s wait for Jackie.”

The refrigerator door could be heard to clap shut. Then with a squeal, the oven was opened and closed. Jackie walked back in.

“I’m warming up the apple pie that you seemed to know about before I did,” she said as she again sat closely to Henry.

Moran continued. “Thank you both for your patience. A few months ago, we provided a number of survey forms to every trade school in America. Some small municipalities, colleges, and others as well. We promised compensation for every completed survey they mailed back to us. There were three hundred questions, all focused on the lifestyle, habits, and environment of the survey taker. Our goal was to find the next group of testers based on how “average” the results said they were. Any questions yet?”

Henry and Jackie remained silent. Jackie took Henry’s hand and clenched it tightly. Katie’s thumb had found its way back into her mouth.

“From the surveys we received back, those who qualified as being average people scored a low of 92 and a high of 116. That is, from those who were surveyed with you, Henry, the highest number of questions that properly defined them as average people, were 116 out of 300. The person who scored 116 had the average car, the average job, the average bank account, and the average education based on government statistics.”

Henry perked up. “And that was me?” He smiled.

“No, Henry. The highest score we’d ever seen was 129, back in 1952. The scores are important because we weight results based on each tester’s survey score. So, when testers’ reports come back to us, the prediction from a tester who had scored say 115 would be more valuable to us than someone who had a lower score.”

Jackie stood up. “I’ll get the pie that you already knew …”

“Henry.” Moran stopped and stared into Henry’s eyes. “Henry, you … scored … a … perfect … 300.”

He read through the list. “You have the average salary, you paid the average price for your house, the family you grew up in is of the average size, you live in the average town, even your goddamn grade point average in high school was average! Your typical electric bill is $7.73. The average right down to the penny!”

“Well, I don’t know what to say, Mr. Moran,” Henry said sheepishly. I just answered the questions to the best of my ability. Are you sure you have the right guy?”

Swenson cut in. “We’re sure, Henry. Believe me, we checked your survey and then rechecked it.”

Moran leaned forward towards Henry, as if he had a secret to share. “Henry, if you were to become our tester we would have no need for any of the others. By deciding which products consumers will have available to buy, you could become the most influential person in America.”

“Oh my God, Henry!” Jackie screamed. “You’re gonna be so famous!”

Moran stepped in. “Actually, no. Your opinion has value only for as long as you remain the average person. Were you to lift your standard of living, you would no longer be the average person.”

Henry was confused. “So, you’re not going to pay me?”

All three men laughed together. “Oh, you’ll be paid. You are of such great value to us, we will put $4,000 per month into a trust account at Northern Trust. The money is yours, but only after your engagement with DDR&M ends. No one … and I mean no one outside of this room … must know who you are and what you do for us. If you were identified, you would be tainted and of no use to us. You could be tempted with offers of bribery and worse. Please don’t accept this offer without telling me you understand this and that you are willing to sign an agreement.”

“Wow,” Henry managed to get out, “$4,000 a month. I don’t make that much in a year. I suppose I’ll have to keep my job at the Cardinal.”

“Or, you can find another job. Doesn’t matter to us, as long as you give us the time we will need of you. Probably twenty hours a week. Sometimes more and sometimes less. This will be an at-will engagement. You can quit whenever you want, with or without notice, and we can end the engagement at any time, with our without cause.”

Henry looked over at Jackie, who was smiling and nodding her head up and down. “So, Mr. Moran, I test products in development and give you reports about what I liked about them and what I didn’t. I don’t get paid now, but you will put $4,000 a month into an account for me. I will have use of the money when I stop working for you. Assuming I am not working for you in ten years, my children can go to the best colleges and Jackie and I can travel wherever we want when I retire.”

Moran nodded. “It will be in trust for you. That means that even if our company is bought out by another company or we plum go bust, no one can touch that money except you, once your engagement ends.”

Jackie hammered a fist to Henry’s knee. He looked over at her. He smiled back. Jackie looked over at Moran, “He just said yes!”

Swenson sniffed left and right. “Is something burning?”

“Oh my God,” Jackie laughed, and then trotted into the kitchen.

Moran asked Larry for the paperwork. Henry read through it. Jackie walked back in to the living room holding a tray with dishes of ice cream for all. “Sorry folks,” she joked, “no pie tonight.”

Henry kept reading when a pen came towards him. Without looking up, he took it and finally put his signature at the bottom of the agreement. He then slammed the pen down onto the table and proclaimed, “Done!”

Applause from all.

“Hey Jay,” Larry called. “Come here. I have something for you.” Jay walked over towards Larry, who was reaching for something in this briefcase. He pulled it out and asked Jay, “Here, he’s called G.I. Joe. Think it’s something you’d want to play with?”

Jay took a step back. “Uh, what do you mean?”

Larry explained, “It’s something that might soon be in toy stores for boys. Do you think G.I Joe is something you and your friends would like to have?”

Jay made a face that can only be seen when a kid is forced to eat broccoli. “I don’t think boys would want to play with a doll.”

Then Henry said, “And I don’t think I would want my son to be playing with dolls.”

As Larry started explaining that G.I. Joe wouldn’t be called a doll, Moran leaned towards Bill and cuffed his hand over his ear. “Make a note to give Stan Weston a call in the morning. It’s ix-nay on the oll-day.”

Amid the commotion in the living room, the kitchen phone rang. Jackie got up to take the call.

“Oh, they weren’t government men after all, Mother. They were encyclopedia salesmen.”

When Jackie returned to the living room, she saw that Katie had the G.I. Joe prototype by the hands. She was singing a song, rocking him left and right.

“Katie,” she said, “give the doll back to Mr. Moreland. Katie clutched it to her chest.

Larry said, “She can keep it. We’ll leave it to the developer to market it to toy companies himself. Maybe the world isn’t ready for G.I. Joe.”

The three men hurriedly scooped up the last bites of ice cream. Larry clasped shut his briefcase. They each shook hands with Henry and waved goodbye to Jackie, Katie, and Jay.

“Henry?” Moran said, “You’re going to be the most influential person in America. And no one will ever have heard of you.”.

They walked down the steps and towards their car, all waiving with the backs of their hands. Larry called out, ‘So long Mr. Average!”