Ashley Madison and the News (Gwen Moritz Editor’s Note)

I’ve been asked a couple of times when Arkansas Business is going to get in on the Ashley Madison scandal. After all, the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette already outed a couple of legislators and a former state Supreme Court justice (but not, I’m reliably informed, at least one former legislator).

Here’s my answer: I hope this is all I ever write about a website for people — almost exclusively men, it turns out — who wanted to cheat on their spouses with other people who were cheating on their spouses.

In my mind, the hacked list of Ashley Madison subscribers is like the divorce files down at the courthouse. Things are filed in divorce court every day, and some of them would undoubtedly produce plenty of hits at ArkansasBusiness.com if “click-bait” were my goal. But we simply don’t mine divorce files for news unless there is a business angle that outweighs gossip value.

That doesn’t mean never. News is so unpredictable that I never say never about anything. We occasionally use material from divorces because it is pertinent in the context of news. Former Little Rock tax attorney Keith Moser’s divorce file was littered with accusations of tax irregularities, and we reported that after he pleaded guilty to (among other things) tax fraud. The division of assets between North Little Rock sports memorabilia dealer John Rogers and his ex-wife, Angelica, is a recent example.

I can’t imagine why Arkansas Business would need to report on any names that popped up on the Ashley Madison list, but that may be because I’m not very imaginative. I do know this: If we do, it will be for a darn good reason.

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Ashley Madison subscribers had every reason to believe that their secrets would remain private (except maybe the idiots who used government email accounts). But anything committed to writing may eventually come back to haunt — even 60 years later.

A Missouri blogger (I’m being deliberately vague here) picked up a trove of correspondence at an estate sale and posted some of the documents online. The letters and memos originated in the executive offices of The First Pyramid Life Insurance Co. of America — the Little Rock company that gave us Pyramid Place at Second and Center streets — in July 1955, and were all addressed to the same 19-year-old secretary.

Let it be acknowledged here and now: The lecherous New York advertising executives who ran Sterling Cooper of “Mad Men” fame had nothing on the oh-so-clever life insurance pushers at First Pyramid Life down in Arkansas.

In what appears to be the first letter, a department head wrote the following:

“As a result of the ‘efficiency’ you demonstrated in taking dictation from [another executive] last Saturday at our picnic, I should like for you to keep me in mind if you ever become dissatisfied with your present boss. In the meantime, if you ever have any spare time (preferably after 4:30) I should like for you to assume the duties of my part time ‘private secretary.’

“I should also like to recommend that you start a school to teach all of the secretaries of The First Pyramid Life what a pleasure it is to carry out the duties of a private secretary.

“Here’s hoping you become dissatisfied with the ‘cushion’ your present boss provides for you.”

Two interoffice memos, identical except that one was signed “Yours truly” by one executive and the other was signed “Yours very truly” by yet another executive, arrived the same day:

“Sometime during the day, would it be possible for me to give you a little dictation?”

The following day, the son of one of the other executives — who undoubtedly had to demonstrate efficiency in order to get a job — got in on the act:

“It has just recently come to my attention that some of your talents as a most competent secretary could be of greater value to The First Pyramid Life by distributing them more evenly throughout the organization,” he began. “I have some rather confidential matters for dictation and would appreciate your services for about one hour. This would enable me to dispose of these very important matters in a very satisfying manner.”

The double entendres continue for several more rhapsodic paragraphs, until he concludes with, “Looking forward with great anticipation to your visit …”

These macho men — at least one of whom was in his mid-50s — never imagined that their harassment of someone else’s teenaged daughter would be open for the world to read. But here’s how I know they weren’t ashamed of themselves:

Every piece of correspondence bears the initials of the secretary who typed it up.

Gwen Moritz is editor of Arkansas Business. Email her at GMoritz@ABPG.com.