THE PEOPLE: Election Week

The Pawnee (Oklahoma) Chief was fat with political ads. Neal Vaughan (farmer, good road man) was running for County Commissioner. Amos Teter (lived in Pawnee County most of his life) was a candidate for Assessor. Roy L. Owens (common sense, clean personal character) was up for re-election as sheriff. But except for the hazy looking cuts of THESE CAPABLE MEN the Chief looked about the same as usual. The big Page One story was headed: BLANCHARDS SELL 849 TURKEYS.

In a week in which U.S. citizens had their date in the voting booth, the Chief made no attempt to feel the pulse of the nation or even of Pawnee County. Neither did the Lenox Time Table (“The Only Newspaper in the World That Cares Two Whoops for Lenox, Iowa”) nor the Trinity County (Calif.) Journal, nor any of the rest of the Bugles, Couriers and Standards which came smudgily from flat-bed presses in the nation’s small towns. But this week, as every week, the nation’s country weeklies held a feel and flavor of U.S. life which no big-city daily captured. Their editors really knew the people who were voting.

The Sabula (Iowa) Gazette was able to note that “Virtus Peterson of near Green Island called at the Gazette and would like to buy about half a bushel of rye seed.” The Chenoa (Ill.) Clipper-Times announced that the second grade was enjoying the reading of Billy Whiskers at the Circus, which was brought to school by Bobby Ritter. The Cassville (Wis.) American reported: “Wilbur K. Buschbom, otherwise Billy, returned Tuesday morning from the Carolinas. He is a cowboy rider and does trick roping. A fascinating, if dangerous life? Young Billy says, ‘It beats workin’.’ ”

The advertisements held news, too. Autumn was the time for auctions. The Pulaski County (Indiana) Democrat heralded John Manning’s public sales, three miles west of Medaryville. Manning offered two horses (smooth mouth), a white-face cow (6 years old, bred in August), 25 head of hogs, assorted farm implements, an iron butchering kettle and two electric fence chargers. The Palace Theater’s advertisement in the Hills (Minn.) Crescent ballyhooed a new picture—Johnny Mack Brown (half forgotten by city audiences) in a Western titled Ghost Guns.

Weekly items reflected the activity of a vast if diffused part of the nation’s business. In the Northwest they discussed gyppo logging shows. The Martha’s Vineyard (Mass.) Vineyard Gazette grumbled about the price of fish: “The market, as we log the doings of last week, is plain lousy—prices dropped like a skate falling into an empty hold. Why? The Lord only knows. But Bay scallops continue to be small and high. . . . Hard up or hard down is the present motto of business.”

“Bounteous Refreshments.” With crops in and the weather fine, the weeklies’ readers also spent a lot of time just enjoying themselves. Innumerable families visited relatives in Oklahoma City, Kalispell, Mont. or St. Joseph, Mo. Ladies Aid societies, Jolly Hour Clubs, bridge and church groups met and “partook of bounteous refreshments.” There was pheasant hunting on the fields of the Middle West. Thousands of high-school football teams “clashed at the local gridiron.” There were Halloween parties, golden weddings, marriages, christenings.

There were also tragedies. The Hokah (Minn.) Chief reported: “The body of Wencil Beranek, 65, was found in a creek three and a half miles east of Waldorf. It was on its back and eyeglasses were still in place. Two pennies were found in a pocket.” And the Jasper County (Ind.) Democrat recorded: “Irene, 7-year-old daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Willis Neeley, passed away at the Riley Hospital. She had been a patient for the past four years suffering with a heart ailment.”

These were the fragments of life in U.S. small towns. This week, as always, their people went about their main business. No candidate’s cries seriously disturbed their matter-of-factness.