Part 1, Chapter 3, Section 1

Atop a skyscraper is New York’s most expensive bar, set in a windowless room illuminated by blue light “proper for use in blackouts” (p 44) that reduces faces to a “pale, bluish smear” (p 46). Its “old, wizened bartender” was “servant to men’s relaxation and pleasure” but had the manner of an “embittered old quack ministering to some guilty disease” (p 49). Beneath a ceiling so low that people must stoop upon standing are “circular booths of dark red leather … built into walls of stone that look eaten by age an dampness” (p 44). James Taggart, Orren Boyle, Paul Larkin and Wesley Mouch (p 44, 45 & 47) sit at an “uncomfortably small” table, speaking in low voices that “befitted a cellar” (p 44). Taggart increases his companions’ discomfort by sitting “with his elbows spread wide on the table top” but “they did not seem to question his privilege (p 44-45).

Boyle and Taggart lament that Boyle “had everything mapped” to produce Taggart Transcontinental’s new rails but that “conditions … circumstances … [and] unforeseen developments” set in that were “beyond human control” (p 44). Boyle adds, “If only you’d given us a chance, Jim.” Taggart remarks that Dagny’s “disruptive tactics” is part of a “disunity” that is against his “absolute opinion” that “no business enterprise can succeed without sharing the burden of the problems of other enterprises.” Boyle agrees, “It’s been proved that very business depends upon every other business … So everybody ought to share the burdens of everybody else” (p 45). Mouch concurs, but “nobody every paid any attention to Wesley Mouch.” Orren Boyle makes additional declarations,

Regarding Rearden Metal’s usage by Taggart Transcontinental, Boyle states “you’re just inviting disaster” and Taggart responds, “my sister is” (p 45). After Boyle describes how “I hear there’s not a single expert who’s given a favorable report” on Rearden Metal, Taggart shrilly retorts, “When people are unanimous, how does one man dare to dissent? By what right? That’s what I want to know — by what right?” In response, Boyle continues his stream of declarations,

Boyle and Taggart agree that “there’s nothing more destructive than a monopoly” and “there’s the blight of unbridled competition” (p 46). Boyle states, “the proper course is always, in my mind, in my opinion, in the middle. So it is, I think, the duty of society to snip the extremes, now isn’t it?” Boyle’s position is clarified as he continues,

Taggart adapts Boyle’s thought to his own industry, whether “at a time of transportation shortages, when so many railroads are going bankrupt and large areas are left without rail service, whether it is in the public interest to tolerate wasteful duplication of services and the destructive, dog-eat-dog competition of newcomers in territories where established companies have historical priority” (p 47).

Boyle offers to raise the issue with the National Alliance of Railroads, prompting Taggart to lament on friendships then tell Larkin, “I am counting on your many friendships.” Larkin pleads “in a tone of incongruous despair, “I wish we didn’t have to hurt anybody.” Taggart drawls his response, “That is an antisocial attitude … People who are afraid to sacrifice somebody have no business talking about a common purpose” (p 47-48). Larkin pleads without addressing anyone, “I can’t be expected to buck the trend of the whole world” (p 48). Mouch confirms, “You can’t, Mr. Larkin … You and I are not to be blamed.” Larkin jerks his head away for “he could not bear to look at Mouch.”

At this point the conversation shifts tone, for “all of them seemed to know that the purpose of their meeting was accomplished and whatever they had come here to understand was understood” (p 48) The conversation shifts to the San Sebastián Mines, whose stock was invested in heavily by all those at the table. Boyle had just visited the mine, noting it had been “certainly busy” although a language barrier prevented him from understanding the “Spic superintendent.” Boyle cheers, “They must certainly have the biggest deposits of copper on earth, down inside that mountain!” Taggart asks of trouble, and Boyle continues, “Not at San Sebastián. It’s private property, the last piece of it left in Mexico, and that does seem to make a difference.” Taggart cautiously asks of nationalization (p 49). “Plain, vicious slander,” remarks Boyle, citing meals he shared with important Mexican politicians.

After a toast to “the sacrifices of historical necessity” the conversation drifts to Taggart Transcontinental’s questionable service to the San Sebastián Line (p 49). Boyle enlightens the unaware Taggart of “measly service” of “just one passenger train a day” and on a “wood-burning locomotive” that Boyle had only seen before in photographs. Of the comfort, Boyle adds, “You must have inherited those coaches from your great-grandfather, and he must have used them pretty hard. … It’s the strangest train I ever rode on. Nearly shook my guts out.” Taggart covers up his surprise by mentioning delays on new engines and ends with, “it’s only temporary.” He then grows silent before rising abruptly, prompting the end of the drink, because “he had to see his sister” (p 50).