Cranberry Red: A Novel

18. The Osborne Dream

Congratulations on the new job,” Dr. Sara Phillips said when Ben appeared at her office door on Wednesday afternoon, his first day on the job. She stood up from behind her desk. Her office was on the first floor of an old furniture building in Oshkosh that Osborne University had retro- fitted. The building had been built in the late nineteenth century and was on both the national and state registers of historic places. Besides being written up in the Oshkosh Northwestern and the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel , the National Trust for Historic Preservation had included an article in their magazine applauding the efforts of Osborne University in “maintaining the architectural integrity of a historic building, while at the same time adapting it to modern use.” “We’re so pleased you’ve decided to work with us, Ben,” Phillips said, smiling. “You’ve got all the skills we’ve been looking for. You’re the first research application specialist we’ve hired, and your office is our first outreach office. By the way, did the furniture and computers arrive?” “They did, thank you very much.” “And you’ve met Brittani, of course. She’s one of our rising stars.” “Yes, we’ve met,” Ben said. “But we really haven’t had time to talk; I had to leave for my meeting over here.” “You’ll like her. She’s got a real business head on her shoulders. She’ll be in charge of setting up your schedule and keeping all the records for our business office. And of course, she’ll take care of all the billing, sending out the notices, that sort of thing, so you won’t be bothered with such details.” 72 The Osborne Dream 18 73 The Osborne Dream “Thank you,” Ben responded. He looked around Phillips’s office. It was extremely plain—quite different from its occupant, who was as stylishly dressed as she was when Ben first met her. The office had but one picture on the wall, some modern piece of art, a gray metal desk holding a computer monitor, a small bookshelf crammed full of books and papers, and a couple of chairs. Venetian blinds covered the one tall window in the little room. “I’ve worked out a schedule for your afternoon, Ben. We have a Power Point presentation for you to see, and then I’ve arranged brief meetings with several Osborne executives, a chance for you to see who’s running the place.” She smiled when she said it. “Thank you,” Ben said. He felt like an eighteen-year-old who had accepted his first job. “Then tomorrow afternoon when you come over, I’ve set up a meeting with Joe Schneider, our business manager. Joe will explain the business side of our operation and how you fit in.” Together, Ben and Dr. Phillips walked down a narrow hallway to a small conference room with a screen on one wall. “When you’ve finished watching, stop by my office and I’ll answer any questions you may have.” She pushed a button on the computer projector; the first image came up on the screen, and she left. The background music was the theme from Chariots of Fire. “It all began with a dream,” a deep baritone voice intoned. A photo of an old bald guy with a red face and a white moustache appeared on the screen. “Ira Houghton Osborne grew up in Wisconsin Rapids, Wisconsin, where his father worked in the paper mill and his mother worked part time as a maid at the Mead Hotel. Upon graduating from high school, Ira Osborne began work in the paper mill, which was the expectation in his family, as his grandfather and his father had worked there before him.” Ben noticed that the music became a little louder as he looked at an image of a big paper mill factory on what he assumed to be the Wisconsin River. “Ira Osborne also worked with the cranberry harvest each fall, raking cranberries by hand during the day and continuing to work the night shift at the paper mill.” Now Ben saw a black-and-white photo of a cranberry bog, with a line of workers raking cranberries by hand, an approach rarely used today, except for Shotgun Slogum, who insisted on doing things the old-fashioned way. “The cranberry bog owner was...