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that evening on the Night Edition as Standing Tall, a title which referred to the medical team that had enabled the youngster's transformation. Hey, this was great press, Nathan Ivory was acknowledging in his own grumbly way. That's about as gushy as he could get. While others were oh yeah-ing and overhead v -signing or head bobbing, one man, leaning back motionless, just squinted a tossed kiss, puckered around his ever planted cigar. Subtle, but Mac caught it. Yet a challange, had been tossed. Even a left handed compliment required response. This is how The Table worked. "Look, Tusk, I don't have a publicity machine," Macaluso narrowed his eyes, "But, if I did, you wouldn't qualify. A person doesn't have to be a rocket scientist to be a damned neurosurgeon!" A few laughed as he added, " And anyway, I can't help it that I'm a star and you're too ugly for television," to the guffaws of the crowd with a scattering of "ugly mugaly" and "oogly moogoolys." Mac was meanwhile striking Hollywood poses with movie poster expressions and temple stroking gestures. Later Mac took Ivory aside and related his concern about a little girl named Susan. Her mild toe walking was not as worrisome as the voice change that accompanied it. Ivory, jotted notes into his bulging leather bound organizer, subtly wide spaced eyes, nasal voice, turns en masse, abdominal reflexes, and such and agreed to get her in immediately. Then, responding to Mac's concern, "Stable or decompensating?" "Decompensating," an expected answer, given the hint from Mac's folded eyebrows. Ivory again affirmed that he'd get right on it, underlining Hallam in his second list of things to do. The Table had the right balance to sustain itself. There were the reflexly conservative types and the equally reflexive liberal thinkers. There were right brain