Hubris Nancy Macduff February 2012

The photo sat in front of him on the desk. It was balanced against a large glass bottle. He knew Nellie would know. He counted on the photo to be the message. There would be no note.

There he was in the photo--waist coat, watch fob chain, standing authoritatively before the multi-tiered storage shelf. Shelves contained jars and boxes of medicinal elixirs, chemicals, potions, salts. A special typewriter for instructions on medicines for patients and physicians was front and center. The pricy photo he commissioned was of a dignified man, master of his fate. How had it all come unraveled? He was a chemist, (some now using the new-fangled title pharmacist) dispensing medicines, as professionally as anyone in 1896 could. Doctors consulted with him. He was careful and thorough. Respected as a community leader, owner of his own drug store with a shiny new Coca Cola Soda Fountain. A family man with a sturdy wife and four children.

Nellie at the time of the photo, had been his wife for more than 20 years, a belle of the town, attending teas and socials in all the best homes. Helping to raise money for the hospital. Warmly he mused; and always wearing unique hats. Oh, she could spend money on those hats. How dismal it was to lose her status in the community and move

to Detroit. She was lost in the big city of hustle and bustle and horses and people. Flinching when she saw the machine called an automobile.

He missed the light of success. The loss of being influential. The invitations to cigars. An offer to join one of the many men's clubs. And the request to join prestigious community groups, like the Water Board. The Bible called it Pride, and to avoid it controling one's life. He guessed that message had never really sunk in, until now. He naively believed that nearness to the powerful imbued success. What a fool to think the power brokers in this small community really wanted a simple chemist to join their ranks.

The photo he held was of a grand time in his life. A chemist shop, community gathering place in the soda fountain, and room for expansion. Shelves of ointments, oils and elixers. It was all built on sand. He and Nellie loved the attention and believed they were "somebody" in this small pond of a city. Even the children were succumbing to the belief they were "top of the heap."

In '95 he was sought out to serve on the Water Board. Created by voters in 1889, it had the authority to spend $100,000 to build a city water system. The project was completed in 1893. But, it was only the first stage. The next phase was to move the water and sewer system further away from the city core.

As a chemist he knew that dirty water and poor sanitation were dangerous. More and more medical evidence was mounting of diseases transmitted through contaminated water. He thought it his duty to bring a chemist's view to this group. As a business man reaping the benefit of the new system he thought it a good community development move to provide more businesses access to clean water and working sewers. For him the proximity to the powerful was an aphrodisiac.

It took him more than a year to divine the intricacies of municipal bonds, water fees, taxation limits. And the construction details, right-of-ways, and legal challenges were dauntingly complex. By early '98 he realized that some construction companies were paying members of the board for votes. The cheating, misinformation, and lying was accepted procedure for these powerful and wealthy men. It was their due, was the prevailing attitude.

When the immorality and illegality of Water Board members came to light he was painted in the same light as the other members. Doctors started using other chemists, the Soda Fountain was doing half its previous business. Nellie's invitations ceased. Revenues for the business were down. The world he created wasn't just crumbling it was as thin as gruel in the pauper's house.

He needed to close the business and move his family away. An acquaintance in Detroit offered a job and they moved away. Others on the Water Board went to jail, but he had little knowledge of the scope of the financial chicanery, though tarred with the same

brush. He was not longer a respected business man, husband, father, and community leader. He was a pariah.

The advent of the new century seemed like a time for a new start. But his malaise only grew. Nellie disliked her low status, her husband as a second-seat chemist in a shop owned by someone else. There were no teas or socials. And hats had to be worn more than once. The children handled the move as children do most things, with alacrity. New schools, new friends. Rachel and Beth were working. Milton would graduate high school in the spring and begin work at a big manufacturing company. Nettie was a few years into school and the apple of everyone's eye. A little mid-life surprize for he and Nellie. The children were poised to care for their mother and young sister. His presence no longer required.

Chemists know how to make things looks plausible in the world of death and pain. He could easily concoct a drink to end the miasm that was his life, with no one being the wiser. The photo being the only connection with what could have been. Leaving it in a conspicuous site, for Nellie's eyes only.

Someone used the word hubris at work to describe an overbearing local physician. He wasn't sure what it meant. He consulted an office dictionary and thought, "How fitting a description. A life ending due to hubris. Not that that was what it would say on the death certificate."