Phineas McVay wrote on February 14, 2019

Fort Somers was now a mere dot on his back trail. Phineas G. McVay sat on the seat of his Champion Freighter, a Conestoga style wagon, sans the large hoops and canvas cover so common on the trails west. Oh, he had a cover to be sure. For in the box with what remained of his worldly possessions were the tools of his trade, a printing press, and type case, plus ink and paper packaged in oilcloth for protection.

Having initially started out with two mules, he soon realized before he even got started that it would take either two more mules, or, a pair of oxen which would be supplemented by the mules he already had when necessary. He oped for the oxen.

That had been three months ago. The layover at Fort Kalispel allowed the animals to rest up, and he to resupply. That would be foodstuffs, one new pair of canvas trousers to replace a pair of woollies ruined weeks before fording the Flathead River to the south of the fort and his destination of Kalispell. Phinn, as he liked to be called, had been fortunate since leaving Omaha in the early spring. He’d avoided Indian trouble, been dealt a good hand in so far as the weather had been concerned. He’d been caught in the open during thunderstorms but had survived unscathed, now his destination lay just ahead, her once silhouetted buildings now taking on details and color instead of the blacks and greys he had been seeing.

Phinn was tall at five foot eleven for the period where the average man stood somewhere between five foot five and five foot eight. He was of medium build, one hundred sixty pounds, with brown hair and blue eyes. An outgoing personality, warm and friendly until a different trait is required. A veteran of the war between the states, riding with Nathan Bedford Forest until the end of the war. All of that now a memory.

The oxen trudged into the main street of Kalispell and stopped in front of the Marshal’s office. Phinn set the break, stepped down to the hard-packed street and stretched before stepping up onto the boardwalk. In three steps he was at the door, turning the knob and pushing it open.

Phineas McVay wrote on February 16, 2019

Phinn smiled as he closed the door behind him. "Hello, name's McVay, Phineas McVay. New in town and lookin' for a place to light and publish a newspaper." He began. "Thought this'd be the best place to start. Need a building. maybe one where it has quarters above or behind. Have just about everything I need for the paper, press, paper ink, just need a place to put it all."

He knew that the town had no paper, Phinn was the type who investigated thing before he proceeded, so he was well aware that there was no publisher outside of Missoula or Great Falls, so Kalispel would be open and circulation for the Northwestern part of the state would be his for the cultivating.

"Hopefully you can help with the search, or direct me to someone that can." He finished, removing his hat and running his fingers through his hair before replacing the hat.

Phineas McVay wrote on February 20, 2019

“Yes sir Marshal, that’s exactly what I do, job printing of all sorts. Doubt we’d be doing a daily, well, not just yet anyway.” Phinn stated. Job printing was really the backbone of a printer. A weekly newspaper should suffice, although he had contacts for national news, local news was usually what folks wanted most.

“Well, the building sounds to be the perfect answer, who would I speak to at the bank about it?” The idea that there was a building, and that it had been used for a printing office was a real stroke of luck. "Like to get that piece of business out of the way as soon as I can. get some bodies to help with the press and get myself set up and in business."

On February 21, 2019 Phineas McVay wrote...

"Mister Croft is it, well I'll be right on over there and see if we can't make us a deal." Phinn said with a smile. He already liked this town, the press wasn't in place and he already had job requests. Forms were quite simple once the type was set and the form locked down. "Well Deputy, you let the Marshal know that as soon as I'm set up I'll get right to those forms. Good day to you then."

Phinn was a happy man, and if this could be worked out with the banker then all would truly be well. That is, until his first editorial criticizing someone of importance, and there was always someone of importance to criticize. It was seemingly the nature of the beast.

"Good Day and good luck, Mr. McVay," the Marshal replied.

Phineas McVay wrote on February 21, 2019

Phinn stepped out of the Marshals Office, looked up and down the main street locating not just the bank, but all of the prominent businesses as well. Especially the Stardust Saloon, now there was a purely welcome sight, and a grand possibility for his alternate office. That had sometimes been a problem in Omaha, but this would be his newspaper, his very own newspaper so maybe, he thought, the Stardust would not be his alternate office. Time for a change.

He checked the wagon and the animals the walked directly to the bank and through its front door. There were three people that would be ahead of him, should he have had joined the line, but the teller was not whom he wanted to see. His quarry was seated at a desk behind a simple rail divider and a gate adjacent to the teller's cage. He proceeded to it directly stopping just outside the rail.

“Mister Stanley Croft?” He asked in a booming voice. “Phinias G. McVay, editor, and publisher of your soon to be weekly newspaper the, uh, Kalispel Union. Yes sir, the Union, and Sir, job printing as well.”

Stanley was taken back a bit by this man’s abrupt arrival at his desk, although there was the rail between them. He stood, “Step in Mister McVay, how is it that I can help you?”

“The Marshal informed you that you have a building ideally suited for the Union. Let’s get to its availability and cost then.” Phinn responded.

“Well, I must say, you are direct and to the point.” Croft pointed out. “Seven hundred is the asking price, however,” he paused as he saw that McVay was about to object, holding up a hand. “I’m a reasonable man, McVay. That is a lot of money, I agree, now if there were certain considerations...”

“Such as?” Phinn asked, finding yet another man he liked in this town.

“Perhaps a discount on our printing needs of say forty percent, with some free advertising?” Was the offer. “And, five hundred fifty dollars, we do accept payments with an appropriate down payment of ten percent.”

Phinn smiled. “Five hundred, cash, today. Twenty-five percent discount and a full page add each month for the first year.”

Stanley Croft narrowed his eyes as he looked at the man. He knew he had made his first offer too low, and now, well the place had stood empty far too long, and this was a chance at some profit. Not as much he had wanted, but being too quick had cost him, even though he owned it free and clear. “Mister McVay?” Croft’s hand came across the desk, “You have a deal, Sir.”

Out came the bottle of bourbon followed by a pair of glasses. "Johnson!"

Luke Johnson wrote on February 21, 2019

Luke Johnson, the teller quickly finished the transaction for the last customer in the queue, before he made his way over to Mr. Croft.

"Yes sir?" He asked.

"Get me the file on that old printing building." He smiled at McVay, "We have ourselves a new owner."

"Yes, sir, " Luke replied as he turned and headed towards the filing cabinet where all the title deeds were kept.

As he searched for the file, he thought about how his life in general. He had started work as a teller only a few weeks ago and he knew that if he worked hard enough, he might one day become a bank officer with a desk of his own. Kalispell was a growing town and there would be a need for more bank employees in the future, especially those who had good sound business knowledge like he did. Now that he was married, it was more important than ever to impress and please Mr. Croft. Sometime in the future he and Ruth would be starting a family and he would need to better his prospects.

When he had found the file, he went over and handed to Mr. Croft and waited patiently for his next instruction.

Phineas McVay wrote on February 22, 2019

When croft had the file in hand, the smiled at Luke. "Thank you," he said, liking the lad and the way he took on his responsibilities, not just retrieval of the file, but how he was with customers. The young man would go far in this world he thought. "Luke, this is Mister Phinias McVay who will be publishing a newspaper before very long in the olf Prescott building." He announced tapping the file.

“A pleasure, and say, I’m in need of four or five strapping young men to unload my press and supplies, be a couple dollars in it.” Phinn offered. With cowboys earning a dollar a day, a couple of dollars for perhaps two hours work should be quite tempting.