Tom’s Tales from the files of June 21, 1967

Winthrop hasn’t done a whole lot – we could end the sentence right there but we͛ll go ahead and finish it like we started to – since he became governor that has caused us to regret that we didn͛t become a deceased Democrat, born-again Republican.

(We will admit, too, that Justice Jim hasn’t had us dancing in the streets every time he’s opened his mouth since the election either.)

After declaring open season on the members of the Game and Fish Commission, bag limit of seven, he ain’t knocked a feather till yet – which makes us wonder if he ever had his gun loaded. He would like for all members of every commission to resign so men of his choosing can take over. He wants to do in one term what it took Orval six to do. We’re trying not to lose any sleep over it, though, for we don’t believe it’s gonna effect the sale of Chronicles one way or another. But there͛s one outfit we’d like for him to give a good letting alone and that’s the State Police.

We would like to believe that the resignations of Colonel Lindsey and Major Thompson were non-political, but it ain’t easy, with so many requests for resignations floating around. One of these days, Wins going to light long enough at the State Capitol to name a new director to succeed Colonel Lindsey and we hope it isn’t Jerry Thomasson, but rather a promotion for one in the ranks. We don’t have any one person in mind, just so it’s someone our troopers can work with and for. All we know about the department is the image being created by those serving in the immediate area –from Capt. Boone Bartlett, to Lt. Jack Howard, to Sgt. Kenneth Brown, and Troopers Dwain Luter, Billy Baker and Jim Wooten – and you couldn’t ask for any better. As far as we know, they are getting the job done in a courteous, cooperative and efficient manner. We’d like to see it kept that way with political appointees appointed in other directions.

We had some high – powered salesmen in town Saturday – Bible peddlers. We liked to have never got that one off our front porch, and probably wouldn’t have if we hadn’t given him a hot tip. You know, they always want to know who lives in the next house so they can call them by their names. This one wanted to know. We saw Omer (Dump) Laycook’s car parked in front of the house of Mildred and Gusta Maxwell, Dump’s sister-in-law. “Mr. Laycook, we said, and he’ll buy nearly anything from anybody, but he’ll want to argue a little at first. That peddler wouldn͛t have left any faster if we had shot him in the south end (he was headed north) with a box of tacks.
Now we owe Gusta an apology. It was Leona (Mrs. Laycook) in the car instead of Dump and the Gusta fell heir to the job of trying to convince the peddler that Mr. Laycook didn’t live there, hadn’t been there, wasn’t expected there soon, and besides he had more Bibles than he could read now. Our idea wasn’t original. John Ehemann used it on Bob Smithson when Bob and Wynema (Rackley) lived here right after the war. Bob was working at the garage and John sicked an insurance salesman on Smithson with the admonition that he’ll let on like he isn’t interested, but he told me just this morning that he needed some insurance. John didn’t know how close he was to getting a man killed. Bob had a pretty low boiling point (he’s probably mellowed some since) and he had some Yankee words like we hadn’t ever heard down here. And it took all of em, plus the threat of the use of a tire tool before he convinced that fellow that the back door was the nearest and safest exit.