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fellow wasn't defeated by the situation, that he did something about it. On the whole, they couldn't argue as to whether the figure was right or not. They didn't know how he arrived at it. They were satisfied. Even the farmers in some cases joined in the cheers when he finished reading his proclamation.

Then he set out in his Ford car, with the help of some other people, and over the weekend they posted this up on the door of the town hall, or the courthouse, or the post of the American Legion, or any other public place in every village, and of course in all the farmers exchanges. These proclamations were hand written in red ink, though they eventually ran out of red ink. I asked him once why he used red ink. “Because they noticed that,” he said. People will see that. There are so many things tacked up on courthouse doors that people don't read them. The local press, of course, put the proclamation into circulation also.

I was nearly bowled over when I heard of this. There had been no consultation with me or anyone else. He had no authority whatever, in any act of the law or any judgment of a court. He didn't break the law, because he said, “I, Pelham Glassford, Proclaim.” However, he had no authority to do it and nobody had any necessity to pay it. But they