LOCAL “BOARD OF TRADE”
Not Hitherto Published—1947.
By John T. Bristow
This, a continuation of the preceding article, brings us up to the second phase of my grain dealing experience. The businessmen, and some who were not so businesslike, organized what they called a Board of Trade, purportedly for the enhancement of the town’s interest—but, in reality, as events proved, to locate an outside man in the grain business here.
Goff had two merchants advertising in my newspaper — one a particularly live businessman—quoting prices, and drawing trade away from this territory. Even people living right here in town would go up on the noon train, and come back at four o’clock, loaded with purchases.
There had been discussions as to whether or not it was morally legitimate for the local paper to accept outside advertising when in competition with the home merchants—and the publishers all around had decided that it was quite legitimate, especially when the home merchants did not make liberal use of the paper’s space. Yet, I doubted if it was wise for me to do so. However, I do not think I was violating the code of loyalty when I prayed for a live merchant like Mr. Abbott.
The Board of Trade had come to life in Moulton De-Forest’s office across the hall from my printing office, on a Thursday night. My name, mentioned for possible membership—I was told, later—was discussed at length. I was the culprit, at least it was I who owned the vehicle carrying the price-smashing ads which were making them unhappy. And though I was at the time publishing The Spectator, doing job printing, buying and shipping grain, writing fire insurance, selling real estate, and making more farm loans than both the other assembled loan agents, there was doubt if I should be classed as a businessman, in the true sense. Stupid as this may seem, it is a fact. The reason for it is not apparent—yet.
There were in this organization men who had been at odds, even fighting mad, over other activities. It seemed as though something nasty was always brewing then. The man who had not so long before been petitioned to leave town, and the fellow who had borne the liberally signed document to the printing office for public exposure, were now working together in an effort to push me around, simply because I had been so indiscreet as to accept outside advertisements.
The leading Prohibitionist had been especially active in trying to clean up the town. It had provoked the imbibers and the “blind-tiger” boys. They got up a petition asking the Prohib to leave town, and brought it to the Wolfley printing office, where I was in charge during the editor’s absence. I refused to print it. They berated me plenty. But they got handbills printed elsewhere—now signed “Committee.”
The Prohib did not choose to leave town.