The Hobo’s Secret

A month-and-a-half after neophyte reporter-photographer Austin Price started at The Bugle, publisher Charles Danby called the advertising and news staff together to plan for the upcoming Christmas holiday season.

“I know it’s a bit early,” said Charlie, “but for previous Christmas and New Year’s we have just flown by the seat-of-our-pants and been caught with them down around our ankles.” He glanced around for any smiles at his little joke. He was rewarded fleetingly by the new advertising sales rep, a likeable recruit from a daily paper in another province.

The Bugle was a twice-weekly newspaper of the early 1960s published in the town of Fancourt in central Ontario. Like many of that era, The Bugle was an old-fashioned letterpress-printed journal with just a few modern tools like a photo-engraving machine and a couple of good cameras to provide the photos. The business was owned by a wealthy local entrepreneur who, politically, was highly conservative but jounalistically kept the paper strictly independent.

Charlie Danby, however, had the job of keeping the paper profitable. Advertising for Christmas was a big moneymaker, so he hyped up the staff to pull out all stops to sell advertising and cover seasonal events to keep readership high. He told the news staff he wanted photos, and names of people in them, of every holiday event they could cover in the next six weeks. “This should give more readers a reason to buy the paper and thus be exposed to the advertisements that pay our salaries.”

Of course, the biggest non-religious event before the holidays was the annual Santa Claus Parade. In Fancourt the parade was a highlight of the year. There was hardly a major local business or institution that did not enter a float. Sally Tipton, the paper’s no-nonsense typesetter, had served on the parade committee for several years and felt much loyalty towards her fellow volunteers who put in long hours of their own time on the project. Another of those was the very private owner and former publisher of The Bugle.

Broderick Inglis was his name. He was staunchly conservative in life and politics, with a reputation as a stern businessman. Some, however, including Sally Tipton, had learned that beneath the tough outer layer of “Mister Inglis” beat a heart that delighted in making people, especially children, laugh and sharing their fun. And what better way to do this than through the Santa Claus parade—even if he did need a little help overcoming his shyness?

Austin was alone in the newsroom over the lunch hour, furiously pecking away at his typewriter, when Sally slipped quietly up to his desk. The reporter glanced up from his old Underwood and stopped. Sally was smiling gently, not a familiar gesture for her around the shop. “Can I interrupt you for a couple of minutes? I wanted to catch you alone.”

“Sure,” Austin replied.

“Tomorrow is the big parade, and you will be snapping away with your camera getting photos of everyone you can, especially the kids,“ she said.

Austin nodded.

“Well, there’s something that we, the committee, think you should know since this is the first parade you’ve covered.” For the next five minutes she said what was on her mind, watched a big grin spread across Austin’s face, smiled herself, and slipped out the door back to her Linotype machine.