Small Town Paper

Janice did not go to work at the shop immediately. Later, we needed a back-up linotype operator and she took on the task. The linotype is a very complicated machine. One story, commonly accepted, is that the person who invented it (Merganthaler) died in an insane asylum before it was completely perfected. I had been around linotypes most of my life, of course, but I did not have any training on them. It was kind of like a person who attempts to work on his own car without any schooling. At any rate, I knew enough to get the thing going and we learned the mechanics together.

Janice is a quick study and she learned to operate it all right. Most of the problems came when we worked alone on weekends or nights and something went wrong and we didn’t have the expertise to fix it.

Delores Marotz (later Wagner after she was married) was the linotype operator for most of the time we were in Stanton. Charlie Prokopec was the printer until he quit and went to work at Nebraska Public Power district in Columbus. We had other employees for shorter times. Jack Pollock, son of the district judge for that area, came home from the Navy and worked for one summer. He later married Beverly Buck, daughter of the Nebraska Farmer publisher and eventually ended up as owner-publisher of the Ogallala weekly newspaper in Nebraska.

He was a summer-only employee and so it was necessary to be inventive to find work for him to do. When the fair came to town, I told him to do a story on something different rather than the usual livestock entries or evening professional shows. He decided telling about the sideshows with the carnival might be interesting so I said okay. I had read enough of his copy to know he was qualified and as it turned out, I did only a cursory job of editing his story before we went to print.

The next day I began to get phone calls making reference to Don’s “obscene” story. Some were from friends who were simply chiding me and others from irate readers. I went to the story and found what they were talking about. He had referred to the ring toss, milk bottle, and other carnival games as “Sporting Houses.” That is an obsolete term for houses of ill-repute in a red light district. He claimed he was too young to know that definition and I had to accept it but I never did know for sure. I always kidded him about it in later years when we were together at a press meeting or something, but he continued to maintain his innocence.

The county fair was a big annual event. Getting people to spend time on the organization and running it was difficult as it is in most groups. That was probably why, as a new “responsible” member of the community, I was asked to serve as secretary of the fair board. I probably should have turned it down, but I felt I should contribute. The amount of time it took really cut in to my work at the paper and I feel it might have helped in my failure in the long run.

Some of the other members of the board tried a practical joke on me the first year. The treasurer was the local court reporter and the vice-president a highly respected farmer. Both enjoyed a good laugh, particularly at someone else’s expense. The president was not so inclined. He was a quiet, staid member of the Methodist church.

After the carnival had set up during my first year in office, the treasurer called me and said there were certain responsibilities I must take care of. One was to inspect the grounds and make sure there were no shows that could offend the sensibilities of the local population. He told me this, knowing full well there was a “girlie” show as part of the carnival.

As all four of us approached the tent where the barker was enticing the crowd to come in, he gave us a quizzical look.

I walked up to him and said, “I’m Ken McCormick, secretary of the fair board.” And then I introduced the rest of the members.

“Come right in, gentlemen. No charge!” the barker chortled.

The president of the fair board was mortified and quickly glanced around to see if any one was watching. The other members realized I had turned their joke around by forcing them to go inside and they were enjoying it.

We went in, but got out quickly. We declined the invitation to go on in to the back part where the “real” show was.