"Every town needs a newspaper."
Mature Content: None
With: Phinn
Time of Day: Morning
The Posters and the handbills for the boxing match were done and dried. Now the question was, could he tempt young Weddy and his friend Wyatt to deliver the posters and hand out the handbills. Or perhaps the young ladies might be receptive to earning a quarter dollar each to do the job. He knew he could count on his boy, printers devil, Tommy Lane to round up who ever might help.
He took down the poster and a handbill to have a look at the finished product, and smiled. He like them. But he was a shade prejudice, of course.
Yes, they were exactly what Crabbe had ;liked, and his donation would cover his ticket to the event. More than one way to skin a cat. Cost, well, a dollar thirty cents for the paper and ink, plus whatever he had to pay for delivery. That should more than cover his ringside place at the match. He would be able to see every moment and insure he had all the facts for the Special Edition. Better than the demise of Frank Grimes had been.
"Everybody can feather their nest, but it's not just anybody that can lay an egg!"
"HOWDY MR. McVAY!!!"
Arabella's leather lunged voice hit the veteran newspaperman's eardrums like a rock thrown at a mistrel's tambourine.
"Lorenzo, er, Mr. Crabbe sent me over about these here... oooh! Is this 'em?!!" The Virginia girl picked up one of the handbills and scanned it eagerly.
"Oh, Mr. McVay, these are BEAUTIFUL!" she cooed, clearly impressed. "Look how you got that picture in the back, how do you DO that?!" she said, amazed. "Lorenzo Crabbe presents Boxing!..." she insisted on reading out the whole thing from start to finish in an awed voice, finally ending with a feeling ".... Ringside... Five Dollars."
Eventually, she managed to drag her eyes away from the entrancing little sheets of paper.
"Say, Mr. McVay... how come you never printed nothing yet about Mr. Simons theater what he's buildin'?" she queried. "Did you know that he's already auditioned me? I was about the first actress to get the call!" she informed him, remembering her ambush of the unfortunate entrepreneur in the Lick Skillet Diner.
"Oh just think, Mr. McVay!" she said, clutching the handbill and doing a little twirl on the spot "When I'm a big star actress in New York and them reporters all ask me how I started off, and I say 'Oh, I first trod the boards in a little ol' theater in Kalispell, Montana, and I always got such rave reviews from my good friend Mr. Phinias G. McVay of the Kalispell Union'!" she fantasized, before fixing him with frown.
"Say, what's the G. stand for?"
"Every town needs a newspaper."
"HOWDY MR. McVAY!!!"
Arabella's leather lunged voice hit the veteran newspaperman's eardrums like a rock thrown at a mistrel's tambourine.
"Oh, hello Arabella, and how can I help you?" He actually was unsure of what to ask, fearing another demand for whatever she might feel wronged by.
"Lorenzo, er, Mr. Crabbe sent me over about these here... oooh! Is this 'em?!!" The Virginia girl picked up one of the handbills and scanned it eagerly.
"Yes, that would be them, Miss Mudd." Came the response, and a silent sigh of relief.
"Oh, Mr. McVay, these are BEAUTIFUL!" she cooed, clearly impressed. "Look how you got that picture in the back, how do you DO that?!" she said, amazed. "Lorenzo Crabbe presents Boxing!..." she insisted on reading out the whole thing from start to finish in an awed voice, finally ending with a feeling ".... Ringside... Five Dollars."
Eventually, she managed to drag her eyes away from the entrancing little sheets of paper.
"Thank you Arabella. I appreciate that." He said, actually smiling at the compliment. "
"Say, Mr. McVay... how come you never printed nothing yet about Mr. Simons theater what he's buildin'?" she queried. "Did you know that he's already auditioned me? I was about the first actress to get the call!" she informed him, remembering her ambush of the unfortunate entrepreneur in the Lick Skillet Diner.
"Because my dear girl, he has yet to begin construction. When he does, I will be sure to print a story all about it." McVay replied, he was actually waiting for Simmons to begin construction then he would certainly devote more than one issue to its raising.
"Oh just think, Mr. McVay!" she said, clutching the handbill and doing a little twirl on the spot "When I'm a big star actress in New York and them reporters all ask me how I started off, and I say 'Oh, I first trod the boards in a little ol' theater in Kalispell, Montana, and I always got such rave reviews from my good friend Mr. Phinias G. McVay of the Kalispell Union'!" she fantasized, before fixing him with frown.
Phinn seemed somewhat perplexed and it showed in his face wondering just how this became all about Arabella Mudd? But of course, everything eventually became all about Arabella Mudd, whether it actually concerned her or not.
"Say, what's the G. stand for?"
"Why, it stands for Goeffry dear girl. Why do you ask?" He asked, then realized that could be a mistake.
"Everybody can feather their nest, but it's not just anybody that can lay an egg!"
"Say, what's the G. stand for?"
"Why, it stands for Geoffrey dear girl. Why do you ask?" He asked, then realized that could be a mistake.
"Well, Jeff." Arabella answered seriously, helping herself to a spare chair in his office and making herself at home "... it's like this. My friend Mr. Pettigrew at the dress shop, well, he's more of a 'Mentor' really, he told me that I talk too much about myself and I should spend more time getting to know other people properly." she explained, before folding her arms and staring at McVay intently, as if trying to see into his very soul.
"So, tell me, are you from Georgia? People tell me you're from Georgia. And did you always want to be a newspaper man, or did you kinda drift into it, like sorta by accident?" it was time for the grizzled journalist to be interviewed for a change.
"Every town needs a newspaper."
"Well, Jeff." Arabella answered seriously, helping herself to a spare chair in his office and making herself at home "... it's like this. My friend Mr. Pettigrew at the dress shop, well, he's more of a 'Mentor' really, he told me that I talk too much about myself and I should spend more time getting to know other people properly." she explained, before folding her arms and staring at McVay intently, as if trying to see into his very soul.
'Pettigrrew? Doddering old fool. Mentor indeed!' He thought, wondering just what the now seated Miss Mudd was going to do now.
"So, tell me, are you from Georgia? People tell me you're from Georgia. And did you always want to be a newspaper man, or did you kinda drift into it, like sorta by accident?" It was time for the grizzled journalist to be interviewed for a change.
"I thought you were sent to pick up the flyers and handbills by Mister Crabbe?" He asked, "But yes, Albany to be exact." He exhaled, 'So here we go.' He thought. "Yes, I've worked in the printing business the last 33 years, well, except for the war years. Actually, twenty-three years, not counting the war, and a period afterward." He smiled not because of the questioning, but because of the memories. "Rode with Nathan Bedford Forrest, known as 'the wizard of the saddle.' But yes, then to answer your question, I've been in printing one way or another my whole life."
"Everybody can feather their nest, but it's not just anybody that can lay an egg!"
"I thought you were sent to pick up the flyers and handbills by Mister Crabbe?" He asked
Arabella shrugged. "No hurry." She rested her chin on her steepled fingers and prepared to listen to McVay's memoirs, only making the odd comment here and there to show that she was paying attention.
"But yes, Albany to be exact."
"Oooh, that's way down South!" Arabella cooed, sounding impressed.
He exhaled, 'So here we go.' He thought. "Yes, I've worked in the printing business the last 33 years, well, except for the war years. Actually, twenty-three years, not counting the war, and a period afterward." He smiled not because of the questioning, but because of the memories.
"So was you in our Army, er, I mean the Confederacy?" asked his one girl audience.
"Rode with Nathan Bedford Forrest, known as 'the wizard of the saddle.' But yes, then to answer your question, I've been in printing one way or another my whole life."
Arabella jumped up with excitement at this news. "You rode with Forrest? By Jiminy Mr McVay, I never knowed you was a war hero! Why! To think: our Mr. McVay, one of the gallant Southern gentlemen of the battle of Fort Pillow!" She hastened to explain how she knew of Forrest's most famous victory... "See, my Mama was red hot sesesh, and she used to talk all about all them brave sojers after the war, but General Forrest was her favourite, 'cept she didn't call him no 'Wizard of the Saddle', she called him..." the girl frowned, trying to remember "...oh, I know ... 'The Grand Wizard'! Same sorta thing I guess though."
She suddenly remembered her vow not to talk about herself and plopped back onto the chair.
"So what was the first story you ever wrote what got publishized in a real live newspaper?" she asked, wanting to know about his debut piece as a reporter.
"Every town needs a newspaper."
"Actually, that would have been filler articles. I was relegated to filler articles for quite a while before I was able to actually take information and write an article on it. I believe it was an extensive article about Veterans of the late war how they were getting on, conventions and the like. Interesting stuff. I was even afforded the opportunity to attend a convention in Omaha."
Those had been the days, when he wanted to cover important stories, get out with the people that he was writing about, or the situations he was seeing and reporting on. But he was no reporter, he was a columnist. Often he was to take provided information and write a column about it. But then too, he was married to Beth, and life was good, until it ended just two years ago with her passing.
"I departed Grand Island Nebraska in late '74 with a wagon loaded with my press, ink and paper, and, here I am. Editor of the Kalispell Union, for better or worse."
"Everybody can feather their nest, but it's not just anybody that can lay an egg!"
Arabella was finding that, once you took time to listen, other people were really quite interesting (almost as interesting as her, in fact) A couple of bits of Phinn's terminology made her frown a little, but she sat on her hands (literally) and let Mr. McVay say his piece before asking questions.
"I departed Grand Island Nebraska in late '74 with a wagon loaded with my press, ink and paper, and, here I am. Editor of the Kalispell Union, for better or worse."
She put her hand up; she actually put her hand up like a kid in a schoolroom.
"Oooh, ooh, please, Mr. McVay, what's a 'Fiiller' 'n' what's a 'Convention' an' ... an' McVay...." she tipped her head to one side and looked at him for the first time as a person, a real person with feelings and needs and wants and ambitions and a life lived "... are you ever sad?"
"Every town needs a newspaper."
Phinn couldn't help but laugh at the raised hand and the question, "Of course I am saddened at a number of things. Richard Orr's death, for one. My late wife's passing, actually a great many things. The passing of the hospital project has me saddened for the length of time it has taken and the property was not discussed at all." He smiled as he shook his head.
"Sadness, young lady, is a part of living. Things happen or don't happen that affect people, allowing them to feel sadness. We would all like to feel joyous, happy all of the time, but I'm afraid that's just not possible in the grand scheme of things. Life has too many ups and downs for that to be even remotely possible."
Yes, there was a great deal of sadness in the community over a great number of things. Some large, some small, but saddening just the same, yet folks didn't go around with long faces all day. Far from it. Setbacks were just a part of everyday life, so the majority of time, people found happiness in a great many things, from the sight of a friend, to the sun rise or sun set. To a new foal, or calf, or crops maturing in the field. Yes life had it's hard parts, but the good far out weighed to bad. A rather deep question from the young lady, he thought.
"Everybody can feather their nest, but it's not just anybody that can lay an egg!"
Phinn couldn't help but laugh at the raised hand and the question, "Of course I am saddened at a number of things. Richard Orr's death, for one. My late wife's passing, actually a great many things. The passing of the hospital project has me saddened for the length of time it has taken and the property was not discussed at all." He smiled as he shook his head.
Mr. McVay once had a wife?! Her mouth dropped more at that than at his expressed sadness that Tricky Dicky Orr had died (after all, town gossip had it that the two men hated each other, based on the editorials Phinn had published in the days leading up to the Post Master's fiery death). She, good girl, let the newspaperman finish his oration before butting in with her own opinions.
"Sadness, young lady, is a part of living. Things happen or don't happen that affect people, allowing them to feel sadness. We would all like to feel joyous, happy all of the time, but I'm afraid that's just not possible in the grand scheme of things. Life has too many ups and downs for that to be even remotely possible."
Arabella sagged. "Guess you're right Mr. McVay, even if I do get to become a famous actress in New York one day, I guess I'll still have both sunshine and shadows in my life. Mind ya' I sorta enjoy havin' a good cry now and again! Kinda cleans out the drainpipes if you know what I mean!" she laughed, despite the sad look on her face as she stared at the man with a keen sympathy in her eyes.
She approached the next question with a certain amount of hesitancy, for she did not wish to appear merely nosey.
"So, Mrs. McVay ..." Arabella's voice dropped to a whisper, as if she did not wish the woman to hear her talking about her "... when did she pass beyond the veil?" Then she caught herself "Oh, if it ain't too upsettin' to talk about!" she quickly added.