III[ToC]
"ANY FOOL CAN SET TYPE"
McClure, South Dakota (it's on the map), was the halfway point on the stage line between Pierre and Presho, three or four miles from our claim. It consisted of the Halfway House, which combined the functions of a general store, a post office, a restaurant, and a news center for the whole community, with the barns and corrals of the old McClure ranch. And set off a few rods from the house there was another building, a small crude affair that looked like a homesteader's shack. Across its rough board front was a sign painted in big black letters:
THE McCLURE PRESS
The first time I saw that sign, I laughed aloud.
"What on earth is a newspaper doing out here?" I asked Mr. Randall, the proprietor of the Halfway House.