The Bellefontaine Republican. [volume] (Bellefontaine, Logan County, Ohio) 1855-1905, 1902-01-17
ROMANCE OF
JOSH KINNEY,
EDITOR .s ss%aas ssaa TO,
BY JOHN
HOWARD TODD


$>o>o>e>o>o>oo>o>o>o>o>o>3
1t was an odd name for a newspaper
The Sangamon Boy-but its career
was SO full OF oddities that nobody
minded that. The easy going country
folk of the Lower Corners said it was
a good paper. Anyhow, like the good
boy. it died young. Its editor-there
was man who never was duplicated
in or out of the newspaper business.
''That fellow was a queer one." said
old Eph Edwards, but he was smart
er'n chain lightnin'. Did ye ever read
about Ichabod Crane? Pve forgot who
it's by. but this Josh Kinney was q
good deal like Ichabod."
Josh Kinney was a farm hand by
day and an editor by night. Somebody
said his nerves were made of iron. He
rested his brain by busying his body
and rested his body by busying his
brain. The eyes that were set far back
under the shaggy brows never lost
their keenness In the shadows of his
protruding brow. They were the unfsil-
ing signal lights that flashed the mes
sage of a vigilant. alert. observing
mind. Kinney was patient. else he nev-
er would have learned the printers
art at odd moments. He was plodding
and persistent, else he never would
have toiled far into the night to bring
out the weekly issues Of The Sanga-
mon Boy.
His Office was even older than the
man. To see it one could almost guess
what manner of man was its presiding
genius. 1t is standing today. a plain
square cabin on the very crown Of a
desolate hill five miles removed from
any town. Behind it and sheltering 1t
from the spite of the winter winds
and the afternoon sun Is a grove of
great towering oak trees. lifting their
branches high over the head of a tan
gled mass of forest shrubbery. Its one
door Is nailed shut, and strong boards
cover the two squares on either side
where windows once let In a timid
light by day and sent out a ghostly
glimmer of oil lamps by night.
For ten years not foot has been set
press was removed long ago and the
worn type. One might find a rusty
stick nesting here and there in the
cracks of the board floor. and he might
see a bit {. yellow paper tackled near
the door Learing the words in Josh's
own handwriting:
"Loafers are invited to the black
smith shop down the road. This is q
printery."
Coming from anybody else this hint
might have invited trouble. but respect
for Josh Kinney's iron muscles and his
teeming brain brought it only silent
obedience.
Lower Corners, which. by the way, Is
not a village. but a farming commu-
nifty, made sport Of Josh when he first
came and started his newspaper. That
was before they knew anything about
the big brain that dominated his an
gular body. He managed to get some.
thing into every issue that set his
neighbors thinking and made them re.
spect him for his learning.
In Lower Corners today there are
men of families who were boys ten
years ago-big, lusty, mischievous boys
who loved fish fry in the summer and
| bobsled ride when the snow was
knee deep on the Rochester road. Oh
course, they remember the night wher
a dozen of them. playing the gallant
to as many country girls with ruddy
| cheeks, rode past Kinney's little Office
| and bombarded the door with snow
| balls.
Kinney never forgot 1t, because the
crash of those snowballs sent a shock
to his heart that changed the current
of his life. All night long he had heard
nothing but the monotonous beating oi
the little press which his foot kept ir
motion. How. prosaic it was against
the rollicking Jingle Of the sleighbells
how harsh against the musical laugh
ter of the girls In the sled! And what
q strange thrill went through him al
he heard one Of these cry out: "Pleast
don't throw any more. boys. Yor
oughtn't to disturb Mr.. Kinney wheI
he's busy. Please don't"
"And is there really somebody wht
cares enough about me to think Of
that?' he asked himself. Am | dOini
right to shut myself up here when
might be out with those boys and girls
wonder whose voice that was. i
sounded like-but what reason have
to think that?'
Maybe he didn't have any reason Il
think it, but a vague, tender hope rOs
above reason. "Mary"-what a prett,
name 1t was, be thought-"Mary Man
ning-Klnney." So timid was this big
strong man that he actually blushed a
his own audacity when he coupled he
name with his. MARY Manning Kin
neyw 1t kept ringing In his spiritua
ear like the melody of fayorite sons
When the last issue of The Sangamo
Boy was run off and Josh Kinney crep
Into bed, q host of sentimental fancie
kept him awake until far into th
morning and then wove themselves II
to the fabric of bis dreams.
Mary Manning was the only daugt
ter of the richest farmer In Lower CO.
nj ners and the one girl in the communit
who had tossed aside the blue bonnt
of the district school and become
seminary girl abroad. She saw In Xii
ney something more than clod, som,
thing higher than the creator OF
weekly rural paper. She respected bill
for his wide fund Of information. Il
his rugged sincerity. for his physics