Second Adolescence - 1. Chapter 1: Sugar Daddy

Dr. Pettit turned the ignition off. Beyond the windshield was the administration building of another college, the next in a parade of so many that they began to all look alike. Even the largest university and smallest private college where uncannily alike. A few impressive buildings, many more utilitarian ones and endless streams of blue jean clad students slouching across the campus. Where was the energy and vitality of youth? How many of these privileged not-quite adults would fulfill their potential? Pettit felt he had an answer, if only he could find a sponsor, an institution to serve as a base for his experiment and provide some funding, of course.

Pettit had approached the military but was quickly shunted down the chain of command until he found himself outside the door. What organization could benefit more than the military? His idea held the promise to elevate the least auspicious recruit to a top-notch soldier, physically and mentally. Still no buyers among the few congressmen who deigned to ask one of their staff to meet with him. Each branch of the military seemed to react as if he were seeking to undermine their tried and true methods.

His concept required a test bed of young men. After the military, colleges offered the next best population. Too many of the colleges catered to the whims of the students. None really pressed students to pursue greater achievement. And all were deeply protective of the students and perhaps their reputation where it might infringe on fund raising from parents and alumni.

It was a casual conversation on an overcrowded flight to what turned out to be an unfruitful college visit that brought him to McDowell College. Named for a little known explorer of America’s heartland and failing to offer any academic or athletic program of distinction, the college was in distinct decline in enrollment and economic stability. Surely this school would be more receptive to his program. Pettit clung to hope. He had long ago spent the last of his savings including the meager retirement fund. Only desperate pleading induced the car rental clerk to release the car when his credit card was declined. If it didn’t work out with McDowell, he’d be penniless, homeless, useless.

Pettit summoned courage he didn’t feel and opened the car door. He strode with unfelt confidence to the main doors. One of the double doors had plywood in place of glass, a testament to the grim conditions of the college. One of the unkempt students directed him to the president’s office on the second floor. The reception desk was unoccupied, a layer of accumulated detritus indicating that it had been unoccupied for a long time. Pettit’s hopeful feeling began to dwindle. He cleared his throat audibly.

From inside the adjoining office the image of optimism emerged. Tall, burly, beaming he came through the doorway, hand extended in greeting. “I’m Joe Smithson, college president,” he proclaimed. “And you are?” Everything about the man was upbeat, so upbeat that Pettit felt that he was about to be sold a very used car or perhaps the Brooklyn Bridge.

“I’m Doctor Clarence Pettit, I believe one of your alumni offered an introduction.”

For a moment the high-beam smile faltered. “I’m afraid we’re not hiring at this time, doctor.”

“Oh, I’m not here about a job, per se, I’m here to introduce you to a program, no a concept that will be the making of McDowell College, assuring its proper place among progressive institutions of higher learning.”

Smithson felt some of his own salesmanship returned. Who was this guy, anyway? He’d hoped that the unscheduled visitor was a donor who might be induced to contribute enough to keep the college open another year, or a semester, or a month? A dim recollection of an email from one of the colleges least likely to succeed alumni wavered in his memory. “Are you the guy who wants to experiment on the students?”

“Not experiment, exactly,” Pettit demurred. “The program I am proposing will select candidates from among the student body to participate – voluntarily – in an opportunity to maximize their potential both academically and physically. There is no other program like it anywhere.”

“Hmmm,” Smithson replied unconvinced. “What do you need?”

“The program would be best served if the participants could be housed away from other students, in order to observe their progress and isolate the factors in their improvement. Also, it would be necessary to control their diet, manage all they intake, so appropriate kitchen facilities would be needed, as well. I would personally supervise all staff related to the program. Oh, yes, a proper training facility, you know gym, would enhance the success of the program. A small fund to customize facilities, as needed, would be helpful. I would gladly contribute my own time to offset costs.”

“What exactly is this program?” Smithson asked, not so much from interest as to fill an otherwise empty afternoon.

“Ah, I’m glad you asked.” Pettit grasped at even this token interest. His posture took that of a lecturing professor. Smithson tried to hide his contempt grounded in his long-standing belief that professors and their overly high salaries were unnecessary to colleges. Pettit sensed that his moment was waning and upped his enthusiasm. “I call it, ‘Second Adolescence.’ At no time in human development is seen such acceleration in mental and physical attainment, after the first two years, that is, except adolescence. You’ve no doubt seen it among some incoming freshmen, a child one moment, a man the next. My experiment, er, program, harnesses the same forces that prompt puberty and reinvigorates them in the young adult.”

“Let me get this straight, you want some dorm space, some gym equipment and a kitchen.”

“And some students,” Pettit reminded.

“Sure, we’ve got all that stuff. What kind of students.”

“The program focuses on males. It seems the ladies are altogether too developed these days.” Pettit’s attempt at humor fell flat. “Young men who otherwise not prepossessing, ordinary students.”

“We certainly have those,” Smithson regretted. “Would we need parental permission?” Smithson asked, suddenly cautious.

“There is that. Perhaps we could identify only students over 18 years of age and without overly involved parents – no parents at all for that matter…”

Smithson suddenly brightened. “And we have those, too. Certain state and federal programs require us to admit a percentage of students who, while they qualify academically, cannot meet tuition costs. I’m sure they would be eager to participate in your no doubt distinguished program or whatever it is.”

Pettit felt hope dawning anew. “Perhaps some local merchants would be interested in providing some of the program’s needs with the inducement of being named sponsors in the academic papers I intend to publish at the conclusion of the program. I would mention that I have had the opportunity to introduce the program to representatives of the federal government and all branches of government. I don’t want to overstate their enthusiasm, but they made it clear that should this instance of the program meet its anticipated success, well then, they could very well invest in the program’s expansion and even fund expansion of the program and supporting facilities.”

“The military?” Smithson asked impressed.

“No less than the Army, Navy, Airforce and Marine Corps,” Pettit stated vaguely.

“Dr. Pettit, I will, of course, need to review this with the board of governors of the college.”

“Will that take long?”

“As fortune would have it, we’re to meet this very evening. I will present your program for their consideration. We’ve been considering various ideas on expanding the curriculum. As I understand it, your program may well contribute in a small way toward that expansion.” Smithson put an arm around Pettit’s shoulders and propelled him toward the door. “Meet with me tomorrow at say, 2 PM, I should be able to give you an answer then.”

Pettit all but skipped along the threadbare carpet. He saw only opportunity ahead. Yes, this time it would work. Not like before when things went badly. Either time. It really wasn’t his fault. Others were jealous of the favorable early findings and interfered, took things too far, too fast. Those poor young men. A few naturally gifted, but the over application of his methods resulted in damaging their health beyond recovery. No this time he would control all the factors and keep his program low key. He hadn’t received any more threatening letters since he had changed his name. Having not permanent address must also have helped. ‘Find me somewhere in America you stupid Argentinians and Russians. This success could have been yours, but you couldn’t follow my timeline. The results, your football team lost some of its most promising players and your Olympic hopefuls became cripples.”

The smallest of self-doubts nearly crept by his ego, but Pettit saw only victory ahead. All it depended on was the board of governors, a totally unknown quantity.