OCR Text |
Show Page 1, Column 1 S S S By JOHN C. PORT McCiure Syndicate WNU Features. HPHE Old Man scooted his chair - away from the desk in the corner cor-ner of the print shop known as his office and handed a sheet of typewritten type-written paper to the boy at the linotype. lino-type. "Page one, column one." he said briefly. Then he stalked to the rear of the shop. "Speedy!" he called, and the youth who was oiling the outmoded cylinder press straightened and ceased his operations. opera-tions. "Yes, sir." The Old Man stroked his chin thoughtfully and regarded the boy through narrowed bloodshot eyes. "If you pi a form tonight it will be the third consecutive week you've done it. A pretty poor average when you consider this is a weekly paper." pa-per." Speedy ran his hand over his smooth black hair. "Yes, sir." The Old Man shook a menacing menac-ing forefinger. "It takes Red a whole day to pick up the pieces and make up the form again. If I wanted the paper to come out on Saturday, it would read that way instead of having hav-ing Friday on the masthead!" He stopped for breath. "If you could once get your mind off play-acting you might be of some value here. But get this and get it straight; if you pi a form again tonight, you're through!" With that final warning the Old Man put on his shapeless hat and left. Speedy walked over to the linotype lino-type He stroked his chin thoughtfully thought-fully and squinted his azure eyes at Red. "If you pi a form tonight, it will be the third consecutive week you've done it." He took his hand from his chin and shook a menacing menac-ing forefinger. "Get this and get it straight; if you pi a form again tonight, to-night, you're through!" Red grinned. "You left out some of it, didn't you, Barrymore?" Speedy laughed. "The Old Man still grousing about Walters?" "Yeah," Red answered. "Page one, column one. He'll land in jail, printing such stuff. Listen; " 'The incumbent county treasurer, George Walters, has served his term of usefulness. He is a crook, as his record proves. He vainly imagines that he lends dignity to his office by clearing his throat at the beginning of a sentence and coughing cough-ing at the end of it. The voters of this town will no doubt be glad to see their most distinguished citizen replaced by an abler man.' " "The Old Man isn't my idea ol an ethical editor," Speedy mused. "When he's mad, he'll do 'most anything unless someone scares him. Then he's not so tough. You know what the trouble is, don't you?" Red asked. "I could guess," Speedy answered. an-swered. "The Old Man's sore because Walters gave the contract for the commissioners' proceedings Jo our competitor. Well, it's a free country and Walters had a right to do it. The Old Man ought to brag about the opposition candidate and lay off Walters and his asthma or whatever what-ever it is." "Maybe you're right," Speedy agreed. "Anyhow, what time will you be ready?" "Midnight," Red answered. "Incidentally, "Inci-dentally, if you'll just lock the forms on the press before you start it, they aren't so likely to fall off." The Old Man swore as he stumbled through the darkness to the telephone. "Yes ..." he" said. He heard a throat being cleared and then: "If that rag of yours comes out this morning with another of your editorials, I'll sue!" A cough, and another clearing of the throat. '"It's libel, and you know it you won't have a chance! And when I get through with you, you won't have anything at all!" The cough was more violent this time, and the throat clearing more prolonged. pro-longed. "Remember what I've told you!" Then came a veritable spasm. The Old Man hung up. He broke into a cold sweat. "I'll have to go down there," he told himself. "Speedy'U never hear a phone if that cylinder press is running." He shook as he hurried into his clothes. "Got to stop it," he kept muttering. mutter-ing. "Can't let it go out." A few minutes later he was at the shop. "Speedy!" he bawled. "Speedy, stop the press!" But the press wasn't running. Speedy was looking at him, a queer expression in his blue eyes. "I forgot for-got to lock the forms on again, sir," he confessed. The Old Man blinked. Then he sighed and a grin spread over his face. "Oh, well," he said, "it isn't the first time. I'll call Red. There are a few changes I want to make, anyway." The Old Man had left by the time Red arrived. "Congratulations," "Congratula-tions," he squealed acidly to Speedy. "I'm surprised to find you're still here." Speedy shrugged his shoulders. "The Old Man left copy for you," he said. "It's on the machine. He wants it to replace what was originally origi-nally page one, column one." Red sat down at the machine. "Was he pretty sore?" he asked. "He didn't seem so sore," Speedy answered thoughtfully. Then, dramatically, dra-matically, he lifted his pointed chin a trifle. "I phoned him as soon as I made the mistake, but I'm sure glad he didn't recognize my voice." |