Evening star., 1938-07-31
THIS WEEK MAGAZINE

blown all you've got for nothing"
I'm ready to take that chance"
Wigney's brow wrinkled. Where
you ought to be, Lambert, is in a
museum under a glass case. III let you
get out your paper for three thousand
dollars even"
"I'll have the money for you as soon
as the bank opens" said Ed.
II don't want it till the jobs done.
III trust YOU Get out your one copy
edition and pay me when it's DONE"
He scribbled something on sheet Of
copy paper. Take this down to the
business manager and . just min
ute, Lambert; sometime today have
doctor examine your head. 1t looks
little soft to me"
Wednesday morning, after sleep
less night, Ed ran through the first
issue of the Snn-Desbatch, staring at
it in joyful incredulity. For once, at
least, Doc Wigney had proved himself
a good newspaperman. He had re-
tanned the general formal of the older
paper and except for the change of
name, four extra pages, and some new
plummy ads, it hight have been the
Despatch itself. Eds biggest problem
thus solved. there was nothing left to
worry about but the details.
The Old Man continued to fight for
his life Late Thursday night, after
what seemed a serious sinking spell. he
rallied; but at two o'clock Saturday
morning. Ed Lambert was called to
the phone. 'Dr. Jepson speaking. I'm
afraid it's only question Of hours,
and maybe I'm wrong to put it in the
plural. You'd better make it snappy"
Ed made it snappy.
Big Matt. the foreman of the press
room. was a holdover from the
Despatch, as were two makeup men
and three stereotypers.
so it's thirty for the Old Man." Big
Matt said solemnly. We'll. he had
what it takes to make a newspaper -.
The standby's ready, Ed. Get us the
stuff and we'll do it in minutes"
Upstairs Ed hovered over the make
up tables, watching the forms unlocked
and remade The "DesbatcH' mast
heads we're ready for the tops of the
pages. Slugs, Special to the Despatch"
replaced those reading Special to the
un-Desba
The metal clicked on the stone
tables and the makeup men grunted
as they screwed tight the FORMS Ed
watched the first woodpulp matrix
laid deliberately on the form and
rolled under the four ton pressure. He
fidgeted as he estimated the time it
would take for the whole job.
Page after page of mats: packed,
scorchcd. buckle-sucked and finally
locked INTO a machine to mould the
hot liquid metal. The process seemed
without end
He hurried down to the pressroom
to see the last half-dozen semi
cylindrical plates slipped onto the rolls
of the standby press.
Big Matt wiped the sweat from his
forehead We're all plated up. Ed.
You pulled the first copy of the
Despatch How'd you like to run off
the last?"
Would he like it! What do I do.
Matt?"
press that button. Look out!'
Ed bore down on the little glass
disk. The rolls turned A low whine
thickened to a steady ordered clamor,
and from below stairs the paper worms
spun their white thread.
Big Matt had shut off the conveyor
to examine the copies as they dropped
in a folded heap about fifty and
they'll begin to come good This
ones almost right. Now they're COM
ing :. All right, Ed; press that button
below"
The press rumbled and stopped
There's about sixty copies here"
Big Matt was apologize; but we've
got orders to junk EN- all except one"
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