utives and Pishers
Executives and Pishers
Three months later, Ruth and Elliot get together with two other couples to play poker. It’s their standing game, a nickel ante; the minimum bet is a dime, and the maximum is a quarter. This is the last vestige of their ever-shrinking social life, because Ruth can never pry herself away from work long enough for dinner parties, round robins at the club, even a simple Sunday afternoon barbecue. But poker night is different—that, she makes time for.
These three couples have been friends for as long as Ruth and Elliot can remember. They, along with another couple, formed a stock club years ago when they were all just starting out. Each couple put in $500, and they took turns being president, secretary, treasurer. They named the club E&P Investments, which stands for Executives and Pishers, because two of the men are professionals and the other two are more entrepreneurial. As soon as Mattel went public back in 1963, they all invested, modestly at first. But when they saw how well the company was performing, they increased their positions.
Tonight, their friends Natalie and Doug Grossinger are hosting the game. Natalie fancies herself an interior designer, and the two of them—Ruth and Natalie—nearly had a falling-out over an end table in Ruth’s Holmby Hills house. Ruth doesn’t always care for Natalie’s tastes and finds her opinions to be as sharp as the clavicle bones protruding from her rail-thin frame. She’s a maven, a know-it-all , she often says to Elliot. But only when she’s drinking , is his excuse for Natalie. Elliot likes Natalie. He gets a kick out of her even though the woman can’t hold her liquor. That night Natalie serves gin and tonics and has set out potato chips and French onion dip. Doug is a dentist and likes to tell stories about the movie stars whose teeth he’s capped.
“I’m serious,” says Doug, speaking of Rita Hayworth. “Look at her teeth in Circus World and then look at her teeth in The Happy Thieves .”
“Isn’t there some sort of privacy between patient and dentist?” asks Elliot, which is the same question he asked the time Doug told them about John Wayne swallowing one of his front teeth on a taffy apple.
“Ah, c’mon, I’m a dentist, not a shrink. Besides, why let ethics get in the way of a great story?”
The other couple that night is Trudy and Marvin Silver. Marvin owned a bowling alley until about ten or twelve years ago, when he invested in a newfangled restaurant franchise called McDonald’s. Trudy and Ruth used to play tennis at the club, but because Ruth works so much, it’s been ages since she even held a racket.
Doug is shuffling the cards and about to deal the first hand when Natalie starts talking about an article she saw in Life magazine.
Ruth braces herself for what’s coming next.
“…and you’ll never guess what,” says Natalie. “It was all about Jack Ryan. Your Jack Ryan.”
“Did everybody ante up?” asks Elliot.
“What a character he is,” Natalie says, pointing to Ruth with her near-empty glass. “Jeez Louise.” She shakes her head. “It was all about these crazy parties he throws. Did you know about those parties, Ruth? They say really wild stuff goes on there. Is it true? Do you know about them?”
“We haven’t been to one of his parties in years,” says Ruth.
“That’s because you work too much,” says Marvin, wagging his finger at her.
“I hear they’re crazy parties,” says Natalie. “Booze and drugs. And sex. I’m talking really crazy stuff.”
Ruth lights a cigarette, shooting the smoke toward the ceiling.
“Are we gonna play some poker here or what?” asks Elliot. He can tell Ruth is getting annoyed and he doesn’t want anything to spoil their one night out.
“Yeah,” says Marvin, “let’s deal those cards.”
Natalie squeezes what’s left of her lime into her glass and throws in a splash of gin. “Who needs a refill?”
“I’ll take another,” says Elliot, draining the dregs of his glass.
“So about those Jack Ryan parties,” Natalie says as she fixes Elliot’s drink, knocking a handful of ice cubes onto the floor. “Is it true that he has waterfalls and a tree house?”
“We wouldn’t know,” says Elliot. “We don’t go to Jack’s parties. We’re too old. Bunch of kids. Not our scene.”
“Deal,” says Marvin, slapping the table.
Doug shuffles again and starts doling out the cards.
Natalie slides Elliot’s drink over to him. “In that article,” she presses on, “they said something about how Jack Ryan invented that Barbie doll of yours.”
“He did?” asks Trudy. “But Ruthie, I thought you invented it.”
“I did,” says Ruth, setting her cigarette in the ashtray while she picks up her hand, arranging the cards. Her nerves are blistering up just like they did the morning she flipped through her copy of Life. When she saw the photo of Jack hanging off the side of an antique fire engine and the headline: meet jack ryan, the man who invented the barbie doll , she nearly spilled her coffee.
Natalie harps on, “But it said Jack Ryan was the one who invented your doll.”
“Everyone knows Ruthie created Barbie,” says Elliot.
Ruth sets down her drink and picks up her cigarette. “Who dealt—Doug?” She turns to Trudy on his left. “C’mon, Trudy, what’s it gonna be? Bet or pass?”
“But Ruth,” says Natalie, having crossed from slurry to sloppy, “why would they say he made your doll?”
Doug turns to his wife. “Natalie, did you eat lunch today? Eat something, would you?” He reaches for the bowl of potato chips.
Natalie swats his hand away, sending a few chips overboard and onto the table. “But this is Life magazine we’re talking about,” she says. “Millions of people read Life . And now they’re all going to think Jack Ryan made your doll instead of you.”
“You should set the record straight,” says Marvin.
“I don’t need to set the record straight,” says Ruth. Or does she? She stubs out her cigarette, feeling her blood pressure spike, her cheeks beginning to flush. This is the second time Jack’s done this to her. Last year, when the New York Times said Jack created Barbie, he apologized, swearing up and down that it had been unintentional, that the reporter had put words in his mouth. She had been furious at first, but after cooling off, she decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. It’s harder to do that this time, especially when after she confronted Jack about the article, his only defense was: “I can’t help what they print about me in the press.” She doesn’t know if he’s deliberately trying to get under her skin—which really isn’t like him—or if he’s so pickled from all the booze that he doesn’t know what he’s saying.
Either way she finds it hard to stay mad at him for very long, partly because he’s so damn talented. When they thought he’d never be able to top his bendable-legs Barbie, he created Twist ’n Turn Barbie and then Talking Barbie. And now, thanks to Jack, they’re already moving into production on a new Living Barbie, who bends not only her knees but also her ankles, elbows and waist. Plus, they’re getting ready to launch yet another one of Jack’s inventions for their toy car line—Hot Wheels. Technically, he created it with Elliot, but Jack was instrumental in the development. So while yes, he can be a pain in the ass, and yes, he drinks too much and shoots off his mouth to the press, Mattel wouldn’t be where it is today without him.
“Speaking of Barbie,” says Marvin, “did you see what your stock did today? Forty-eight-fifty a share.”
“I remember when all you had was that little plastic ukulele,” says Trudy.
“We can say we knew you when,” says Marvin. “Here’s to Ruthie and Elliot.” He raises his glass.
“And to Mattel,” says Doug.
“May the stock hit $50 a share,” says Marvin as they all clink glasses.