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moss,” “Marry in haste, repent at leisure,” “A cheerful countenance turns away wrath”—and at the end of every adventure she offered a heartfelt “All’s well that ends well.”
    Jack developed the idea of what he called the hypochondriac hour, a daytime show on which a succession of quack doctors dispensed medical advice. Sufferers would write letters describing their symptoms, and an allopath, homeopath, hydropath, naturopath, chiropractor, or some other “specialist” would read the letters on the air and recommend a cure—usually “Just call at my office on Such-and-such Street.”
    The medical quacks were not sponsored, implying that their valuable advice was broadcast as a public service. The fact was that Jack took a substantial fee from each quack; they were glad to pay for the privilege of touting their quackery and soliciting patients.
    Advertisers gravitated toward the station and its popular offerings. By the end of 1932 WCHS was drawing significant revenues from the manufacturers of motorcars, breakfast foods, soaps (“Only Lifebuoy kills Bee-ee-ee-ee-Ohhhh!”), hair dressings, deodorants, and a wide variety of patent medicines.
    Jack Lear and Herb Morrill had found the formula for turning a profit from radio. Although the Wolcotts, father and daughter, deplored it, the station made money by doing what Kimberly scorned as ‘downscaling’—that is, by dropping a lot of its classical music programming and broadcasting to a more popular taste. Kimberly liked Jack’s success, but she was embarrassed by the way he won it.
Three
    1934
    H ARRISON W OLCOTT SPENT HALF HIS WEEK IN C ONNECTICUT, in his office at Kettering Arms, and the other half in his Boston office, where he attended to other business. His Boston office was a huge walnut-paneled room with furniture upholstered in black leather.
    His desk was made of wood from the hull of the frigate Constitution —Old Ironsides—taken from her during one of her several restorations. Wolcott sat behind it proudly, in a black wool suit. He rose when Jack entered the room.
    â€œIt’s good to see you, young man,” he said. “You’re so dedicated to your business that I don’t see you as often as I’d like.”
    Jack shook hands with his father-in-law and sat down. “I’d thought of business more in terms of making something work than in terms of overcoming the opposition of people who don’t want to see it work.”
    The older man smiled. “Two sides of the same coin,” he said. “Scotch?”
    Jack nodded. Wolcott put his cigar aside in an ashtray and took a bottle of Scotch from a drawer. He poured two drinks: straight, without water or ice. They saluted each other with their glasses and drank.
    â€œHas Kimberly told you,” Wolcott asked, “that there is a station available for purchase in Hartford? Has she mentioned that she’d like to see WCHS, Incorporated, buy it?”
    â€œIt loses money,” Jack said bluntly.
    Wolcott picked up his cigar. “Does that conclude the discussion?” he asked.
    â€œNot at all. But I’d want to be persuaded that there’s some potential before I agreed to buy a station that loses money.”
    â€œShe likes its broadcasting.”
    â€œI know. She’s told me. Classical music and information. She goes so far as to say she’s embarrassed to be married to the president of WCHS. She says my tastes are too much like my father’s.”
    â€œShe’s said that? Well, I wouldn’t take that seriously. Women, young women especially—”
    â€œI know. I don’t let it bother me. I suppose you know she’s pregnant again.”
    â€œCongratulations. The two of you are building a fine family.”
    â€œYes. John is quite a boy. He’s a pleasure. I, uh . . . I had a purpose in coming by.”
    â€œI imagined you did. What