The Wisdom of Simplicity

[John Houseman, Born: Jacques Haussmann, September 22, 1902 in Bucharest, Romania; Died: October 31, 1988 (age 86) in Malibu, CA, in the character of Mr. Wabash, DCI, he talks about his entry into the US intelligence field long ago]:

Mr. Wabash (talking to Higgins): "You seem perfect for it (the CIA) ..."
Higgins: "Thank you, sir."

Mr. Wabash: "Are you perfect for it, Mr. Higgins?"
Higgins: "I try to be."

Mr. Wabash: "We you recruited out of school?"
Higgins: "No, sir. The Company interview a few of us in Korea.
(compelled to flatter) You were with Mr. Donovan's OSS, weren't you, sir?"

Mr. Wabash: (smiles to remember): "I sailed the Adriatic with a movie star at the helm! It doesn't seem like much of a war now. But it was. (then says) ... I go even further back than that. Ten years after The Great War, as we used to call it. Before we knew enough to number them."
Higgins: "You miss that kind of action, sir?"

Mr. Wabash: "No ... I miss that kind of clarity."
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http://www.awesomefilm.com/script/ThreeDaysoftheCondor.pdf;
from movie script for "Three Days of the Condor," by Lorenzo Semple, Jr. and David Rayfiel. Ref: Revised draft, February 3, 1975 (Converted to PDF by ScreenTalk(tm), URL: www.screentalk.org
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Ref. also: Condorcet: "What happens at any particular moment [in this instance, to Mr. Wabash as he responds] is the result of what has happened at all previous moments, and itself has an influence on what will happen in the future."
http://www.humanistictexts.org/condorcet.htm

Paraphrased: We can see so far (into the past and the future) because we stand on the shoulders of all those who have come before us.

The Antithesis:
["There is no problem so simple that it cannot be made complex beyond understanding."]

Bullet Holes in the Bombers

The B-25 and the Lieutenant who never got promoted: During "WW2," there were a number of quick and dirty tests devised by various Officers to categorize winners and losers. The psychiatrists, and I know one who actually did this, had to screen 100's of recruits a day for mental disorders. As each candidate came in, he would come out from behind his big desk, hair looking like Martin Short's character who has just “gone mental,” big, thick, black, horn-rimmed glasses push flat against his face to make his eyes look four times larger than real life. With a wet, slobbery, slurred speech he would get right in the guy's face and ask him just one question: “Have you ever had sex with an alligator?”

Depending upon the instantaneous response, verbal or otherwise, the poor guy would be categorized for life as cynical beyond recovery, compulsive, overly compliant, homophobic, depressed, psychotic, anti-social, perverted or fit for duty without psychiatric disease. It seemed to work. At least he said it did. I always wondered if anyone had ever answered "yes" to the question.

Back to the airplanes: A Major stationed at Bumpy-Dirt-Runway-near-Avon Airdrome and Mudpuddle in jolly old England devised a simple test to decide whether he would ever think twice about promoting a subordinate. The bomber squadrons were taking bad hits on their flights over Germany. They would send a full squadron out at night, and only 50 to 60 percent would return by morning. The Major would stand with his Lieutenant, awaiting the returning planes.

As the first one touched down, he handed the Lt. a clipboard and told him to draw a quick outline of each plane and indicate where he could see groups of bullet holes. After the last plane was down, the test began. All right, now, son. Take this red pencil and show me just exactly where we should beef up the armor plate on each of those planes. The Major's eyes normally glazed over with the first drawing, as the green Lt. made large, red circles around the most obvious groups of bullet holes.

For the ones he didn't like in the first place, he just walked away. For the few he thought might have a little promise in the distant future, with high-level, intensive training, he would slowly say, “No, boy, (pause), these are the planes that made it back. We're going to put more armor plate where there aren't any bullet holes.”

Reflecting on Slow Elevators

A department store owner was faced with numerous complaints about how slow the store elevators were. There were always five, and sometimes more, customers standing impatiently in the elevator hallway. It seemed like half of them were taking the elevators and the other half were always complaining. This occurred on a daily basis and reached a crescendo at the holiday season. Desperate to find a solution, he contacted one of the larger manufacturers and requested an in-store evaluation and quote on the cost of new, computerized elevators. His astonishment turned to frank depression when he saw the six-figure estimate for the least expensive solution.

Taking refuge in the 19^th hole at the local country club, he surrounded himself with friends in an attempt to, at the least, feel good about himself as he sensed the warmth of the camaraderie. As he bemoaned his plight, the town Cadillac dealer, an Ernest Hemmingway look-alike, allowed as how he could fix the problem for (quote) a whole lot less than six figures.

"In fact,” he said, “give me a set of keys to your store and I'll have my guys fix the problem by Monday morning. You don't even have to pay me if my solution doesn't work. Don't even ask, just let me have the store over the weekend. Now let's talk about something else.” Keys changed hands. The store owner was relieved and accepted the condition that he not enter his own premises until Monday opening and the conversation turned to the pesky 7^th fairway dog-leg.

On Monday, all thoughts of the elevators having slipped his mind for most of the day, the owner was startled to see that it was 3:15 in the afternoon and he had not had one elevator-related complaint. He practically dashed out to the elevator hallway and, when he rounded the corner, stopped in amazement. There were ten customers standing in front of the elevator doors, but no one seemed impatient or irritated. Then he saw why. The three elevator doors on each floor were flanked by 8-foot high, 3-foot wide mirrors … six mirrors per floor … into which the customers could gaze, admire themselves, straighten a tie, adjust a hem, smooth down their hair … in short, do everything but complain. That was three years ago and he has not considered an elevator upgrade since.