After the first five minutes of the program, all baseball men relaxed. Napier, it was clear, was more than a match for his interrogators. Then, with only a few minutes remaining, a short man at the end of the press table took over the questioning. "Mr. Napier," he said, referring to a paper, "appearing on another network two nights ago, you mentioned you were interested in the study of government, economics, nuclear physics and the Russian language."
"That is correct," said Napier, smiling.
"Aren't these rather unusual interests for an executive of Big Soap?"
"No," said Napier coolly, "I don't think so."
(This reply was scored as a distinct triumph for Napier because it tied in perfectly with the then current Viceroy cigaret commercial featuring business and professional men with odd avocations to prove that Viceroys had "a thinking man's filter, a smoking man's taste.")
"Mr. Napier, there have been rumors going around Washington that you have political ambitions and have taken the baseball commissionership to make yourself better known to the country at large."
Napier raised his eyes to heaven and shook his head.
"If a deadlock should develop in either of the national conventions, with other bright young men like Kennedy, Rockefeller and Nixon unable to get a majority, would you be available for a draft?"
Napier's face grew stern. "Sir," he said, "I have just taken over as baseball commissioner. My only concern at this time is to do the best possible job for our national game. I'd like to make that as strong as possible and I would thank you, sir, to confine your questions to baseball."
The interrogator peered over his glasses and smirked.