job as reporters to find out what these are.”
“But,” Sammy protested and without his sly look on his city-slicker face, “my Pa and Ma never talk about things like that until after I go to bed.”
“Then stay awake and sneak down the stairways and listen,” Tom said. “The only local news my father prints is what people tell him when they want him to print it. For example, what was the local news in the Advocate delivered this morning? Mrs. Hanson left Friday to visit her sister in Provo. Mrs. Leonard entertained the Ladies’ Sewing Circle at her home last Thursday. Mr. Phillips was made a deacon in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Mrs. Sheldon gave birth to a baby boy last Wednesday night. This isn’t real news for my money. By the time the Advocate comes out on Tuesday everybody knows it. I don’t want this kind of news for the Bugle. I want the kind of news that will reveal the deep secrets in this town that the public is entitled to know. Now line up, men, and I’ll give you your press cards and assignments.”
“Basil, your assignment will be the Palace Cafe your father owns. Strangers in town eat there and what they say may be news to people who live here. Seth, your mother is the biggest gossip in town. It will be your job to report the gossip. Jimmie, your mother runs a boardinghouse, so you listen to what everybody says, and report anything that is news. Danny, your father owns the barbershop and barbers hear a lot of things other people don’t know. Your assignment is to find out what these things are. Sammy, your father gets into more arguments than any man in town. It will be your job to report about any of these arguments everybody doesn’t know about. J.D., you will cover the Marshal’s office and report who is arrested and why.”
Then Tom stood up and placed his hands on his desk. “We’ve got a newspaper to get out by Saturday, men,” he said dramatically. “You will all report here Friday afternoon right after lunch to turn in your news stories.”
I watched the other reporters swagger out of our barn and then looked at Tom. “I don’t think Papa intended for you to get out a real newspaper in competition with his newspaper,” I said. “He isn’t going to like it.”
“I know, J.D.,” Tom said, “but it is the only way I can convince Papa that I’m old enough to help him at the Advocate.”
I left the barn and ran all the way to the Marshal’s office. Uncle Mark was sitting in his swivel chair at his rolltop desk. I was disappointed not to see any prisoners in the three cells. I showed him my press card and asked him if there was any news about robberies or murders or cattle rustling.
“I’m afraid not, John,” he said. Then he got me to tell him about Tom starting a newspaper in competition with Papa. I didn’t think it was funny, but it made Uncle Mark laugh like all get out.
But the next morning Uncle Mark sure wasn’t laughing because the Adenville Bank was robbed of more than ten thousand dollars during the night. These robbers didn’t ride into town in the daytime and hold up the bank and ride out of town the way outlaws should. If they had, Uncle Mark could have formed a posse and tracked them down. Papa told us during lunch what a dirty trick these robbers had played on my uncle.
Uncle Mark always kept a close watch on the two saloons on the east side of the railroad tracks because that was where fights and trouble usually started. After the saloons closed, he went to bed because everybody else in town was in bed by then. It was while everybody was asleep that the robbers acted.
They entered the home of Calvin Whitlock, the banker, at about two in the morning. They picked a good time because his sister was in Salt Lake City visiting relatives and his housekeeper, Mrs. Hazzleton, went to her own house at night. Mr. Whitlock was a widower who had never
“But,” Sammy protested and without his sly look on his city-slicker face, “my Pa and Ma never talk about things like that until after I go to bed.”
“Then stay awake and sneak down the stairways and listen,” Tom said. “The only local news my father prints is what people tell him when they want him to print it. For example, what was the local news in the Advocate delivered this morning? Mrs. Hanson left Friday to visit her sister in Provo. Mrs. Leonard entertained the Ladies’ Sewing Circle at her home last Thursday. Mr. Phillips was made a deacon in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Mrs. Sheldon gave birth to a baby boy last Wednesday night. This isn’t real news for my money. By the time the Advocate comes out on Tuesday everybody knows it. I don’t want this kind of news for the Bugle. I want the kind of news that will reveal the deep secrets in this town that the public is entitled to know. Now line up, men, and I’ll give you your press cards and assignments.”
“Basil, your assignment will be the Palace Cafe your father owns. Strangers in town eat there and what they say may be news to people who live here. Seth, your mother is the biggest gossip in town. It will be your job to report the gossip. Jimmie, your mother runs a boardinghouse, so you listen to what everybody says, and report anything that is news. Danny, your father owns the barbershop and barbers hear a lot of things other people don’t know. Your assignment is to find out what these things are. Sammy, your father gets into more arguments than any man in town. It will be your job to report about any of these arguments everybody doesn’t know about. J.D., you will cover the Marshal’s office and report who is arrested and why.”
Then Tom stood up and placed his hands on his desk. “We’ve got a newspaper to get out by Saturday, men,” he said dramatically. “You will all report here Friday afternoon right after lunch to turn in your news stories.”
I watched the other reporters swagger out of our barn and then looked at Tom. “I don’t think Papa intended for you to get out a real newspaper in competition with his newspaper,” I said. “He isn’t going to like it.”
“I know, J.D.,” Tom said, “but it is the only way I can convince Papa that I’m old enough to help him at the Advocate.”
I left the barn and ran all the way to the Marshal’s office. Uncle Mark was sitting in his swivel chair at his rolltop desk. I was disappointed not to see any prisoners in the three cells. I showed him my press card and asked him if there was any news about robberies or murders or cattle rustling.
“I’m afraid not, John,” he said. Then he got me to tell him about Tom starting a newspaper in competition with Papa. I didn’t think it was funny, but it made Uncle Mark laugh like all get out.
But the next morning Uncle Mark sure wasn’t laughing because the Adenville Bank was robbed of more than ten thousand dollars during the night. These robbers didn’t ride into town in the daytime and hold up the bank and ride out of town the way outlaws should. If they had, Uncle Mark could have formed a posse and tracked them down. Papa told us during lunch what a dirty trick these robbers had played on my uncle.
Uncle Mark always kept a close watch on the two saloons on the east side of the railroad tracks because that was where fights and trouble usually started. After the saloons closed, he went to bed because everybody else in town was in bed by then. It was while everybody was asleep that the robbers acted.
They entered the home of Calvin Whitlock, the banker, at about two in the morning. They picked a good time because his sister was in Salt Lake City visiting relatives and his housekeeper, Mrs. Hazzleton, went to her own house at night. Mr. Whitlock was a widower who had never
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