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Sinclair, Upton, 1878-1968

"They Call Me Carpenter"


I called up several other people who might have influence; and
meanwhile T-S was over at his office in Eternal City, pleading over
the telephone with the editors of afternoon papers. They had got the
Red Prophet out of the way during the convention, and why couldn't
they let well enough alone? Wasn't there news enough, with five or
ten thousand war-heroes coming to town, without bothering about one
poor religious freak?
When you shoot a load of shot at a duck, and the bird comes tumbling
down, you do not bother to ask which particular shot it was that hit
the target. And so it was with these frantic efforts of ours. One
shot must have hit, for at eleven o'clock that morning, when the
case of John Doe Carpenter versus the Commonwealth of Western City
was reached in Judge Ponty's court, and the bailiff called the name
of the defendant and there was no answer, the magistrate in a single
sentence declared the bail forfeited, and passed on to the next case
without a word. And all three of our afternoon newspapers reported
this incident in an obscure corner on an inside page.


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