Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1941-12-21
UNEXPECTED STORY
You planned to fake the editors assignment didn,
you Chuck? But things didn't turn out lust that wav
by Sevvell Peaslee Wxiaht
Illustrated by Scott
Il Short Story Complete in This Issue


y" tone of voice it meant he had an idea
W - and a city editors ideas usually
mean leg work for somebody. Chuck looked,
and sure enough, there was glitter behind
Tolman's steel-rimmed spectacles
Now WHAT" queried Chuck.
STORY Tolman was grinning happily
1.-The Spirit of Christmas in Lanesburg. You
know: Human-interest stuff; heart throbs;
the JOY of giving; happy faces; excited chill
dren, bright-eyed with expectation; parents
laden with presents; the clink of silver in the
Salvation Army kettles, and the smiling
Santa Clauses Go get it, Chuck - and bear
down on it!'
"Nuts!' said Chuck. That's old stuff"
THE spirit of Christmas is old, but ever
new" Tolman said, sounding as though he
were quoting something; for that line had
appeared in at least ten million editorials,
Chuck was positive. GO get it. Chuck!'
Chuck sighed, and stretched YEARLY.
Whatever you say, boss. But remember it
was your idea, not mine"
Make it good" ordered Tolman. We'll
splash it on page one, with by-line.'
Better wait till you see it." Chuck advised.
and went out into the bright afternoon
sunlight.
A thin, pinch faced Santa Claus paraded
up and down in front Of a store sandwiched
between two blatant signs His sleazy COS
tune hung in folds: the false beard was on
crooked, giving him rakish look which still
missed being funny
Chuck nodded and the man merely looked
at him with injurious, faintly-antagonisti
eyes, A woman, her arms filled with bundles,
bumped into Chuck as he sauntered on.
Try lookin' where you re goin'. why don't
you?' she snapped. She looked worried,
harassed; strand Of hair hung out from
under one side of her fooishly youthful hat.
Sorry. Merry Christmas" Chuck said
sardonicaly. but she didn't hear him.
He elbowed his way into shop A shop for
men, crowded with women. There were five
clerks selling neckties. Chuck groaned as he
studied the racks of ties.
At the knitted goods counter woman was
unfolding sweater after sweater, and throwing
them down on the counter Funny thing"
she said, you don't have forty-four in the
place. What's the matter?'
The clerk shrugged his sagging shoulders
I'm sorry madam, he said YEARLY.
Chuck shook his head and shouldered his
way out of the shop. He wasn't doing so well.
He had known he wouldn't do so we'll No one
with an adult mind, not hypnotized by pages
of pretty advertising, the radio, the decora-
tons, and the senseless chatter of the Juvenile
mentalities who went for anything and
everything, would be taken in by this high
powered annual effort to move vast amount
of merchandise - much Of it junk.
Not that he was bitter; Chuck told himself
emphatically that he was not that He had
merely insulated himself against the senseless
hysteria of the season; he had retained
normal perspective 1t was like arriving, cold
sober, at a drunken brawl, and remaining
cold sober
A couple of blocks farther on, Chuck saw
a plain clothesnan he knew standing on the
curb, with the nippers on ratty-looking
man in threadbare overcoat.
Doing any good?" asked Chuck.
''Waitin' for the Wagon" laughed the detec-
tive. Got dip here" He glanced at the
ratty-looking man. Great time O the year for
the leather lifters you know"
The tty-looking man glanced up, looking
meaner and RATHER than ever. you got
nothin' on me, hatfoot! he said.