This preview shows page 1. Sign up to view the full content.
Unformatted text preview: tuaries. The stepfather ran off with her money, and Miss Emma, heartbroken, become a recluse. "It was once a fine paper," Mr. Sullivan said. "But look at it now. Less than twelve hundred subscriptions, heavily in debt. Bankrupt." "What will the court do?" I asked. "Try and find a buyer." "A buyer?" "Yes, someone will buy. The county has to have a newspaper." I immediately thought of two people—Nick Diener and BeeBee. Nick's family had become rich off their county weekly. BeeBee was already loaded and she had only one beloved grandchild. My heart began pounding as I smelled opportunity. Mr. Sullivan watched me intently, and it was obvious he knew what I was thinking. "It could be bought for a song," he said. "How much?" I asked with all the confidence of a twenty-three-year-old cub reporter whose grandmother was as stout as lye soap. "Probably fifty thousand. Twenty-five for the paper, twenty-five to operate. Most of the debts can be bankrupted, then renegotiated with the creditors you need." He paused and leaned forward, elbows on Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html his desk, thick grayish eyebrows twitching as if his brain was working overtime. "It could be a real gold mine, you know." - --- BeeBee had never invested in a gold mine, but after three days of priming the pump I left Memphis with a check for $50,000. I gave it to Mr. Sullivan, who put it in a trust account and petitioned the court for the sale of the paper. The Judge, a relic who belonged in the bed next to Miss Emma, nodded benignly and scrawled his name on an order that made me the new owner ofThe Ford County Times. It takes at least three generations to be accepted in Ford County. Regardless of money or breeding, one cannot simply move there and be trusted. A dark cloud of suspicion hangs over any newcomer, and I was no exception. The people there are exceedingl...
View Full Document
- Spring '10