His apartment was dark, and it did indeed look as if a life had just ended there. Over two great slugs of Scotch, I asked and he told me what had happened to the “big” athletes of our day, men I’d admired who’d had jobs on Wall Street waiting for them after they graduated. But their scores “downtown” had not been winning ones. Then he told me about himself. He’d had a job waiting for him when he left college, and over the years had risen to just below the top. But vice-presidents in the world of finance are listed by the dozen. Now he seemed terribly alone and wanted me to stay on when I said I’d better leave. I saw that he could not be envied and that there was nothing to “tear down.” What I felt for him was sympathy and a kind of brotherhood.