Keating arrives at his office. Going through the morning papers, he finds an article saying that philanthropist Thomas L. Foster had died, and one of his beneficiaries was Ellsworth Toohey, to whom he had willed one hundred thousand dollars. Professing not to believe in inheritance, Toohey had turned the bequest over to a progressive institute, the Workshop of Social Study, where Toohey lectured on "Art as a Social Symptom."
OK. I'm sure this will eventually turn out to be interesting.
Keating is mulling over the selection of a sculptor for a statue of Industry to grace the lobby of the Cosmo-Slotnick building. A design had been solicited from Steven Mallory, an acquaintance of Dimples Williams, one of the stars employed by Cosmo-Slotnick Pictures. Mallory had crafted a model of a slender nude man, heroically poised to smash through any barrier he met. It gave the onlooker a feeling of diminishment. It would not do. Slotnick had asked Keating to find another sculptor.
Keating has a couple of possible sculptors in mind and is savoring the power of making the selection when he notices an envelope on his desk with his name. It contains a proof copy of Toohey's column for tomorrow's Banner. The column praises Keating for the Cosmo-Slotnick building, along with a handwritten note from Toohey asking Keating to come by his office. Keating phones Toohey's office and makes an appointment for late the following afternoon. After the call, Keating resumes his work and later passes the column along to Guy Francon. Returning from lunch, Keating learns that someone has fired a shot at Toohey in an apparent assassination attempt. The shot missed, and the shooter turned out to be Mallory, who was apprehended but would not reveal his motives. Toohey had taken the shooting in stride and had not recognized his assailant; but on hearing the name Mallory he appeared struck with fear.
The next day Keating keeps the appointment as scheduled. Toohey is a thin, fragile-looking man with an air of kindness and a habit of joshing. In conversation, they size one another up. Toohey seems to sense how little Keating had to do with the design of the Cosmo-Slotnick building; oddly, that seems to incline Toohey to like Keating all the more. Keating brings up the shooting and, sensing Toohey's fear, likes him all the more. Brothers in insecurity, I guess.
Toohey mentions a woman named Lois Cook, whom Toohey calls "the greatest literary genius since Goethe." Cook is looking for an architect to design a small residence for her in the Bowery. Keating is interested.
Toohey expresses pleasure that Keating is engaged to his niece, Catherine. Keating: Ah, yes. I love her very much. Toohey: Good! Take care of her.
A few days later, Keating is reading Clouds and Shrouds, a travel book by Lois Cook. It is incomprehensible gibberish. Keating likes it. Turning to the Sunday paper, he sees a sketch of the Enright House, designed by Howard Roark. It gives the appearance of a giant piece of crystal growing out of the ground, mathematically perfect. (Huh? Maybe some sort of way-ahead-of-its-time fractal design?)
Keating goes to tea at the residence where Katie and her uncle live. The subject of marriage comes up. Keating: Of course, when we're married, Katie will have to give up her job. Katie: Wha? But I love what I do. Katie is a day nursery attendant at the Clifford Settlement House. She enjoys caring for poor, sick children. New subject: Howard Roark. Keating: Roark and I go way back, you know. Toohey: Really? What's he like what's he like what's he like? Keating: Odd, but manic about architecture.
Keating meets Lois Cook, who is slovenly in appearance and cynical in demeanor. She hints at awareness that her writing is nonsense. She asks Keating to design the ugliest house in New York. Keating accepts.
I'm getting a bit of an odd vibe from Part 2. It reminds me of the experience I've had with some TV shows. The first season is wonderful, but when the second season rolls around, the show seems a bit off. Disjointed. Unfocused. Well, maybe Rand is just laying a lot of groundwork, setting up things that will all come together soon. We shall see.
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