Mark Tidd, Editor

by Clarence Budington Kelland

Then came Mr. Pilkins, town clerk, and he gave his opinion that Wicksville was the worst-looking, most run-down, dilapidated, out-at-heel village in Michigan. He said it was a shame; that the rest of the towns in the country ought to take up a collection to help Wicksville folks paint their houses. He said it was his experience that Wicksville folks were ashamed of where they lived, and didn’t let on unless they were cornered, and he said that when they thought they’d be believed they always let on they came from Eagle Center.

Mr. Stoddy said that Wicksville didn’t have enterprise enough to keep the hogs out of Main Street. Now that was a lie if there ever was one, and it made me kind of mad myself. He said the best men in our town were the women, and that so fax’s he could see there wasn’t any reason for keeping up such a town at all unless it was that no other town wanted such a lot of folks to live in it.

Well, those are just samples. The men that said them were more than nine-tenths joking, all right, but when you saw what they said right in cold type it looked pretty bad. Whee! but it looked bad.

Then, right on top of those insults, and a lot more, we printed another big head-line:

SHALL EAGLE CENTER STEAL OUR TROLLEY LINE?

Then we printed the story about the trolley line, and what was going on. And we more than hinted that if Eagle Center got a chance it would do something underhanded to influence the line to go that way. And we pointed out the benefits of the line to Wicksville, and what money it would bring to town, and all that. My! it was a screamer.

Then, inside, we printed an editorial by Mark Tidd, which asked our folks if they wanted anything to do with a town that thought about us the way Eagle Center did. He asked if we wanted to trade with them, or visit with them. He wanted to know why the Board of Trade didn’t meet and fix up to boycott Eagle Center, and he ended up by demanding why something wasn’t done at once to see to it Wicksville got that trolley line for itself.

You wouldn’t believe it, but we ran out of papers before they’d had time to dry, and had to turn to and print some more. Yes, sir, we printed a whole hundred extra, and sold every one of them. Wherever you looked was a man reading the paper, maybe out loud to a crowd. It was funny. Men stood shaking their fists and scowling and making speeches and tearing around like they was crazy. There was some talk of organizing a party to go over to Eagle Center to dare them to fight, but this was overruled.

Anyhow, everybody was mad, and when Spragg, of the Eagle Center Clarion, came out of the hotel and sent his boys to sell papers, the crowd took after him and chased him up to his room, and he didn’t dare come down until the town marshal went home and put on his star and then escorted him to the train. Spragg never waited to see what became of his papers, but just went away from there as fast as he could.

I don’t believe he was exactly clear why the folks was so turned against him, but he soon found out, all right.