The producers news. [volume] (Plentywood, Mont.) 1918-1937, 1934-04-13

We decided to pay another visit
to the foxy stroekeeper who rented
the farm to Fred Horner and now
wants to evict him. Maybe dele
CATION of us farmers will make his
fur fly and stop the eviction.
Our green organization makes
another mistake. We let the old
fox get his nose in our wind. When
we tramp into the store, the boy
with the flyspot eyes is all ready
for US. Says his pa went to town.
The old man must have spotted US
as we turned the bend into the
village. The oldest brother, he has
gone away too. Yet there is his
car parked under tree. We circle
about a couple of times as if we
were tracking ourselves and then
tramp out. Dutch Hoffer cusses
himself blue streak for not haV-
ing thought of sending out scout
first. well learn next shot,"
We drive to the next village.
The plan is to call up the old ckin-
flint, making believe one Of US is
interested in buying tar paper.
Hold, or maybe chicken wire"
give got the nickel in the coin
box already. make up your mind.
Fred rakes his noodle. make it
| fourply tar paper"
"Hello, hello. Must be the old
est fox pup barking. what do
you want my father for? Sure, I
can attend to an order. Pm no
cripple. Tar paper. What kind?
Fourply. What kind of a horse
joke is this? Say, who the hell
are you?"
l hang up disguised. Fred reels
out of the booth, slapping his
launches and roaring his head off.
! The boys get into an argument
about taxpayer. Hoffer swears by
all that used to be holy there is
fourply taxpayer. Pm sure that if
l had asked for chickenwire we
might have caught the old fox.
Our next step before fighting
the eviction by calling out all the
farmers is to consult the lawyer.
We know he's after our votes. If
he'll work for US, let him fool him
self into believing the farmers will
elect him county judge.
Miller, Fred, and / drove down
to the county seat. The tires of
the old car are bum. Fred has to
pump the rear ones up twice on
our way down.
We pass a couple of large farms
and estates as we approach the
town. Fred is tired. He blurts
out, "This fellow, Sunstone, that
owns that paddock there and them
meadows near the golf course, you
know he lives half the year in
France. Got a chateau there. de
skins the French farmers too. We
ought to bomb his place"
Miller is driving the car. Hold
on, Freddie. Why bomb it? Well
be able to move your six kids and
your wife onto it after us farm
ers run the whole damned shoot
ing match"
Fred is a little ashamed of his
thunder. He cracks a smile
"Righto, you old turnip." He
yanks out of his pocket his lights
binoculars that fell out of a French
officers aiTplane over in France
during the war. He's always got
them with him, and uses them as
if from a crows nest. He trains
them on the pine wood GROWING
distant hill. His bristly, racked
face softens.
Fred is a war vet, was she'll
shocked, gassed in the Argonne.
Has II stitches in his belly, and
walks around all hunched up as ii
; he were in irons. Last summer
Roosevelt took his pension away,
and now this eviction. Can you
blame him for exploding?
Fred leans back. Tells US he's
been reading Whitaker Chambers
"Can You Hear Their Voices ?"
Ordered it from the Farmers Ma
tional Committee for Action. He'll,
there are parts he'll never forget;
the way the farmers must bust