THE WAR TIME ARCHIVES AND THE PHANTOM WHO DELIVERED THEM TO OUR NEWSPAPER

In the Stillness of the Marsh – A peaceful setting off the Doe Lake Road, Gravenhurst were the grass has turned to golden and the still water reflects the gray ski on a late fall Saturday.
(Photo By Fred Schulz)

REMEMBRANCE  - MY CURIOUS ENCOUNTER WITH A VETERAN IN MY NEWSROOM

A COLLECTION OF OLD NEWSPAPERS - FROM A GHOST?


   EVEN THOUGH WE WERE ONLY RUNNING A WEEKLY NEWSPAPER OF POSSIBLY 36 PAGES  (THANK GOD, IT WASN'T A DAILY), WE HAD A RELATIVELY SMALL STAFF AND SOME FAIRLY MEATY WHITE SPACE TO FILL EACH WEEK. ADVERTISING SALES WERE UP. THE CIRCULATION WAS UP. SO WE HAD A BUSY LITTLE OFFICE DESPITE THE FACT WE WERE JUST A COUNTRY NEWSPAPER WITH LESS THAN 7,000 CIRCULATION.
    IT WAS EARLY IN NOVEMBER. PROBABLY 1983. I'M NOT CERTAIN ABOUT THIS BUT IT DOESN'T REALLY MATTER. I WAS WORKING THAT MORNING AT A CONFERENCE TABLE IN THE PUBLISHER' OFFICE, TRYING TO GET TOGETHER SOME PHOTOGRAPHS, AND EDITORIAL COPY, FOR A REMEMBRANCE DAY SECTION FOR THAT WEEK'S ISSUE. PEOPLE WERE COMING IN AND OUT OF THE OFFICE, THE PHONES WERE HUMMING, REPORTERS WERE CONDUCTING INTERVIEWS IN THE NEWSROOM NEXT DOOR, COMPANY CLERKS AND LAYOUT STAFF WERE BUZZING ABOUT, MAKING THE PUBLISHER'S OFFICE A ROAD-LESS-TRAVELLED. IT WAS A LITTLE BIT NUTS, BUT WE WERE YOUNG, AND IT WAS AN EXCITING ENVIRONMENT.
     WE WERE PLANNING A TWO PAGE SPREAD THAT WEEK, WITH SUPPORT ADVERTISING, BUT WHEN I PUT ALL MY RESOURCES TOGETHER, I WAS STILL SHORT AT LEAST HALF THE MATERIAL I NEEDED. PLUS WE ALWAYS PUT EDITORIAL COPY IN THE NEWS PAGES AS WELL, SO I KNEW IT WAS GOING TO BE A SCRAMBLE OVER THE COMING FEW DAYS TO FIND MORE COPY AND PHOTOGRAPHS, SUITED TO REMEMBRANCE DAY OBSERVANCES.
     I WAS DEEP IN THOUGHT, TRYING TO MAP OUT MY NEXT MOVE, AND I WAS SO INTENT ON WHAT WAS IN FRONT OF ME, THAT I DIDN'T SEE THE OLDER GENTLEMAN ENTER THE ROOM. THE DOOR HE CAME THROUGH, MEANT HE HAD TO DODGE LOTS OF PEOPLE WORKING IN THE NEWSROOM, AT THAT PRECISE TIME. I HAD BEEN OUT THERE FIVE MINUTES EARLIER, SO I KNOW THIS AS FACT. THE NORMAL PROTOCOL, AND WE ACTUALLY HAD ONE, HOWEVER LOOSE, WAS THAT THE RECEPTIONIST WOULD CONTACT THE NEWSROOM ON THE PHONE LINK, AND LET ONE OF US NEWS-STAFFERS KNOW SOMEONE WANTED TO SEE US. IT HAPPENED ABOUT TWENTY TIMES A DAY. SO WE WENT UP AND DOWN THOSE STAIRS A LOT OVER A WORK WEEK.
     SO WE'D HEAD DOWN TO THE FRONT DESK, AND MEET WITH THE INDIVIDUAL, WHICH OFTEN WAS ABOUT A PARTICULAR NEWS OR FEATURE STORY WE HAD, OR WERE GOING TO RUN IN THE NEXT ISSUE. ON OCCASION, SOMEONE WOULD WANT TO RIP OUR HEADS OFF, IF IT REGARDED A NEWS STORY THEY DIDN'T LIKE, OR WERE INTIMATELY CONNECTED. THE RECEPTIONIST WOULD LET US KNOW IF THE INDIVIDUAL WAS HOSTILE, SO WE COULD PREPARE OURSELVES FOR A HANDSHAKE OR A FIST IN THE FACE. IT IS THE REASON THAT VISITORS WERE KEPT DOWNSTAIRS, AS A HOUSE RULE, SO THAT WE WOULDN'T ACTUALLY INVITE CONFRONTATION INTO THE HEART OF THE BUILDING. AT THE FRONT, WE COULD AT LEAST WRESTLE AN UNHAPPY CAMPER OUT THE DOOR, WITHOUT TOO MUCH SHOVING. TWENTY PERCENT OF OUR VISITORS HAD THE PROVERBIAL "BONE TO PICK," AND WHILE I WAS PRETTY GOOD AT DIFFUSING ANGRY PATRONS, THE RECEPTIONISTS KNEW WHEN TO INTERVENE, AND IF NECESSARY, PHONE FOR BACK-UP IN THE BUILDING, OR CONTACT POLICE DIRECTLY. IT HAPPENS FREQUENTLY, WHEN YOU RUN PEOPLES NAMES IN CRIME REPORTS, ESPECIALLY IN CASES OF DRINKING AND DRIVING. SO THE DEAL WAS, THAT IF WE KEPT ON RUNNING NAMES IN THE NEWS STORIES, OF THOSE CHARGED, WE HAD TO SUFFER THROUGH THE AFTERMATH, OF ANGRY VISITS FROM THOSE FOLKS WHO HAD A DATE IN COURT. WE'D USUALLY BE SUCCESSFUL IN STOPPING THEM, IN THEIR NASTY TIRADE, BY PULLING OUT A NOTEPAD, AND PEN, JOTTING DOWN SOME OF THE MOST MEMORABLE QUOTES. AS SOON AS WE'D BEGIN MAKING OUR COPIOUS NOTES, THEY'D DEMAND TO KNOW WHAT WE WERE DOING THAT FOR. "WE'RE GOING TO ADD THESE TO THE FOLLOW-UP STORY FOR THE NEXT ISSUE," WE'D ANSWER. PRETTY SOON, THERE WOULD BE A TWIST OF THE BODY, AND THE SOUND OF THE DOOR OPENING. THEY DIDN'T WANT ANY MORE TROUBLE FROM THE PRESS.
     WHAT I'M TRYING TO ESTABLISH HERE, IS THAT WE SCREENED WHO WAS ABLE TO ACCESS THE NEWSROOM.....AND WHO HAD TO REMAIN IN THE LOBBY. WE'D OFTEN USE THE PUBLISHER'S OFFICE FOR INTERVIEWS, FOR REASONS OF PRIVACY. THERE WERE DISCUSSIONS AND MATERIALS FOR THE NEXT ISSUE, CIRCULATING THE NEWSROOM, AND FOR OUR OWN SECURITY, WE MAY HAVE ONLY LET TWO PERCENT OF OUR VISITORS, EACH WEEK, INTO OUR UPSTAIR'S BASTION.
     SO ON THIS MORNING, AS BUSY AS WE WERE, IT WAS MORE THAN A LITTLE ODD, THAT THIS GENTLEMAN, WITH A BUNDLE OF PAPER UNDER HIS ARM, SHOULD APPEAR AT THE SIDE OF MY OFFICE CHAIR, IN THE MODEST SOLITUDE OF OUR CONFERENCE ROOM. UNLESS I KNEW THE BLOKE, HE WOULD HAVE BEEN TOLD BY THE RECEPTIONIST TO "HOLD ON, AND A REPORTER WILL BE RIGHT WITH YOU." SOMEHOW THIS CHAP HAD SLIPPED THROUGH THE NARROW GAUNTLET OF THE TINY LOBBY AND HALL OF THE FRONT DESK AREA.....AND DECIDED TO COME RIGHT UP UNANNOUNCED. I HAD TO TURN AROUND FULLY IN MY OFFICE CHAIR, TO SEE THE MAN MORE CLEARLY. I WANTED TO SEE THE EXPRESSION ON HIS FACE, AND IF HE HAD ANY KIND OF WEAPON IN THIS HAND. A FEW OF OUR WRITERS, INCLUDING ME, HAD RECEIVED DEATH THREATS RELATED TO THE STORIES WE RAN, IN PREVIOUS EDITIONS, SO WE WERE ALL A LITTLE ANTSY ABOUT PEOPLE ARRIVING WHO WE DIDN'T KNOW. AND I CERTAINLY DIDN'T KNOW THIS GENTLEMAN.
     I STOOD UP TO GREET THE MAN, WHO WAS WITHIN ABOUT TWO FEET OF MY CHAIR. I STEPPED BACK TO PUT A LITTLE MORE SPACE BETWEEN US, ONCE AGAIN, AS A MEASURE OF SECURITY. I EXTENDED MY HAND, AND HE OBLIGED IN RETURN. IT WAS ONE OF THOSE HANDSHAKES THAT MAKES YOU WINCE, BECAUSE HIS HANDS WERE HUGE AND POWERFUL, AND HE WASN'T SHY OF DEMONSTRATING WHAT A HARDY GREETING FEELS LIKE. MY HAND WAS SWALLOWED BY THESE MASSIVE MITTS.
     HE SAID HIS NAME BUT I DIDN'T HEAR IT CLEARLY. HE WAS WEARING A BEAT-UP OLD OVERCOAT, THAT WAS TOO SHORT IN THE ARMS, AND IT APPEARED, AT THE SAME TIME, TOO SHORT FOR HIS SUBSTANTIAL HEIGHT. HE HAD OLD SHOES, COVERED IN MUD, WITH SEVERAL OF THE SEAMS CLEARLY UNSTITCHED. HE WAS A MAN OF ABOUT SEVENTY YEARS OF AGE, AND HE HAD THE WEATHERED SKIN OF A LIFE-LONG FARMER. I WOULD HAVE SAID HE WAS A DRINKER BECAUSE I'M PRETTY SURE I DETECTED AN ODOR OF ALCOHOL. IT WASN'T A FACTOR IN HOW WE GOT ALONG, BUT IT WAS JUST SOMETHING I COULDN'T HELP BUT NOTICE. HE WAS THAT CLOSE TO ME. HE HAD A PLEASANTNESS ABOUT HIM, THAT QUICKLY EASED THE SITUATION BETWEEN US. HIS EYES APPEARED SUNKEN AND ALTHOUGH NOT QUITE ASHEN, HIS COMPLEXION WAS MOST DEFINITELY PALE, AS IF HE HAD, OR WAS UNWELL. HE WOULD HAVE BEEN OVER SIX FEET TALL, AND HE LOOKED DOWN ON MY FIVE FOOT, SEVEN INCH FRAME. I OFFERED HIM A SEAT, BUT HE DECLINED. I ASKED HIM WHAT I COULD DO FOR HIM, AND HE SET THE SUBSTANTIAL PACKET OF NEWSPAPERS ON THE TABLE.
     "I THOUGHT YOU MIGHT BE ABLE TO USE THESE OLD NEWSPAPERS I'VE KEPT FROM THE SECOND WORLD WAR," HE SAID. "MY MOTHER KEPT THEM FOR ME,  WHILE I WAS OVERSEAS, RIGHT UP TO THE END OF THE WAR. WHEN I GOT BACK, I DIDN'T WANT TO READ ABOUT THE WAR I JUST LIVED THROUGH. NOW NO ONE ELSE WANTS THEM, BUT I JUST CAN'T BRING MYSELF TO THROW THEM OUT," HE CONTINUED. "DO YOU HAVE ANY USE FOR THEM SIR," HE ASKED. "ACTUALLY, THEY WOULD BE PERFECT," I ANSWERED. "I'M WORKING ON A SPECIAL SECTION FOR THE NEXT ISSUE, AND WE CAN COPY A LOT OF THESE FRONT PAGES." THERE WAS AT LEAST TEN POUNDS OF THESE OLD NEWSPAPERS AND CLIPPINGS, DATING FROM 1942 TO 1946. HONESTLY, I COULDN'T HAVE HAD A GREATER COINCIDENCE, IF GOD HIMSELF, HAD ORCHESTRATED THE INTERVENTION. IT WAS PERFECT TIMING, AND COMPLETED MY COPY NEEDS IMMEDIATELY. WHAT WOULD HAVE BEEN A DIFFICULT TASK OVER THE COMING FOUR DAYS, WAS RESOLVED IN ONE MINUTE, AND ONE CASUAL, UNANTICIPATED MEETING. I WAS THRILLED THAT THE CHAP HAD SOUGHT US OUT, AND NOT, AS HE SAID, THROWN THEM OUT.
     I HAD BEEN SORTING THROUGH THE WAR-TIME ISSUES, WITH THE ELDERLY MAN AT MY SIDE. I WAS SO INTENT ON READING THE FRONT PAGE HEADLINES, I KIND OF FORGOT ABOUT MY NEW FRIEND. "WHEN WOULD YOU LIKE THESE BACK," I ASKED. "THEY'RE YOURS IF YOU WANT THEM. I HAVE NO USE FOR THEM ANYMORE," HE SAID. I DIDN'T SEE HIM MAKE THIS KIND OFFER, BECAUSE MY EYES WERE STILL FOCUSED ON THE SUCCESSION OF AMAZING FRONT PAGES, I WOULD BE ABLE TO RUN, IN REDUCED SIZE, IN THE REMEMBRANCE ISSUE. WHEN I FINALLY LOOKED UP, THE MAN WAS GONE. I LOOKED AROUND THE OFFICE, TO SEE IF HE'D WANDERED TO ONE END OR THE OTHER, AND I WAS THE ONLY OCCUPANT AT THAT MOMENT. THE DOOR WAS OPEN, AND THE NEWSROOM WAS STILL AS BUSY AS BEFORE. I STEPPED INTO THE DOORWAY, AND ASKED TWO OF THE STAFFERS, HOVERING NEARBY, WHERE THE OLDTIMER HAD GONE, WHO WAS IN THE CONFERENCE ROOM A MOMENT EARLIER. "WE DIDN'T SEE HIM TED....WHAT DID HE LOOK LIKE," THEY ASKED, STILL ON THE FLY, NETWORKING DESK TO DESK. "THE TALL FELLOW WHO BROUGHT ME A BUNDLE OF OLD NEWSPAPERS.....HE WALKED RIGHT INTO THE OFFICE, AND OUT AGAIN, SO HE HAD TO PASS BY, UNLESS HE WAS A GHOST." BY THIS TIME, AND THE MENTION OF "GHOST," THREE OTHER PEOPLE STOPPED IN THEIR TRACKS IN THE ADJACENT NEWSROOM, TRYING TO FIGURE OUT WHAT I WAS TALKING ABOUT. NO ONE HAD SEEN THE MANY COME IN, OR LEAVE THROUGH THEIR OFFICE. "LOOK AT THIS," I APPROACHED THEM. "HE LEFT THIS HUGE BUNDLE OF OLD NEWSPAPERS AND CLIPPINGS FOR ME, AND THEN VANISHED. I MEAN HE WAS THERE ONE MINUTE, AND  GONE THE NEXT. REALLY GONE." THEY ALL LOOKED PUZZLED, SHOOK THEIR HEADS, CONTINUED TO DENY SEEING THE MAN, AND WENT ON WITH THE OPERATION OF A BUSY NEWSPAPER OFFICE.....LEAVING ME STANDING IN THE DOORWAY BETWEEN THE ROOMS, STARING DOWN AT AN ARMFULL OF NEWSPAPERS. THIS WAS ONE OF THOSE STRANGE MOMENTS WE USED TO HAVE IN THE WEEKLY NEWS BUSINESS, AT THE OLD HERALD-GAZETTE BUILDING, AT 27 DOMINION STREET, IN BRACEBRIDGE. I ALWAYS THOUGHT THE PREMISES WERE HAUNTED. BUT THIS WAS, WITHOUT DOUBT, THE PINNACLE OF ODD ENCOUNTERS; EVEN IF IT WASN'T WITH A GHOST AS SUCH. IT WAS A WONDERFUL COINCIDENCE. MAYBE THE GUY WAS JUST FAST ON HIS FEET, AND WAS ABLE TO THREAD THE NEEDLE THROUGH OUR BUILDING WITHOUT DRAWING ATTENTION TO HIMSELF. IT'S POSSIBLE. I'VE NEVER HEARD OR READ ABOUT A GHOST DELIVERING PARCELS BEFORE. I STILL HAD THE PARCEL, IN MY HANDS, BUT WAS AT A LOST TO EXPLAIN TO EVERYONE HOW I GOT THEM.....ESPECIALLY WHEN NO ONE IN THE BUILDING, INCLUDING THE CLERKS AND RECEPTIONIST AT THE FRONT DESK, HAD SEEN ANYONE MATCHING THAT DESCRIPTION, WITH AN ARM-LOAD OF NEWSPAPERS.
     I WAS ABLE TO USE A HUGE QUANTITY OF THE ARCHIVE MATERIAL, THE MAN HAD BROUGHT IN TO SHOW ME, AND OVER THE NEXT COUPLE OF YEARS, WE CONTINUED TO DRAW FROM IT , AS AN IMPORTANT RESOURCE, FOR OTHER EDITORIAL PROJECTS WE WERE WORKING ON.....WITH WAR-TIME THEMES. I REMEMBER PUBLISHING A SMALL EDITORIAL NOTE, AS A THANK-YOU, IN OUR REMEMBRANCE DAY SPECIAL ISSUE, RECOGNIZING THE HELP WE GOT FROM OUR MYSTERIOUS FRIEND, WHO I BELIEVE WAS A VETERAN AFTER WHAT HE SAID ABOUT HIS MOTHER, AND HIM BEING OVERSEAS. HE DIDN'T IDENTIFY HIMSELF AS A VETERAN, AND HE WASN'T WEARING A POPPY. BUT HE WAS ADAMENT ABOUT ME HAVING THIS COLLECTION OF NEWSPAPERS, AND I WAS PLEASED TO GET THEM....ESPECIALLY AT THAT MOMENT. I PUBLICLY THANKED THE BENEVOLENCE OF OUR KIND PATRON, FOR DONATING THE PAPERS TO OUR NEWSPAPER ARCHIVES, AND FOR TAKING THE TIME TO VISIT WITH ME, ON THAT NOVEMBER MORNING. BUT I NEVER HEARD ANOTHER THING ABOUT THE PAPERS OR THE MAN WHO BROUGHT THEM INTO OUR OFFICE.....APPARENTLY, AS NOT MUCH MORE THAN A VAPOR, EXCEPT IN MY PRESENCE. I REMEMBER HIM CRUSHING MY HAND WITH HIS VIGOROUS GRIP. I THINK ABOUT THE MAN EVERY REMEMBRANCE DAY, EVEN THOUGH I'VE BEEN OUT OF THE WEEKLY NEWS BUSINESS FOR DECADES. I CAN STILL VISUALIZE HIM EASILY, AND RECALL HIS SOFT BLUE EYES, LIGHTLY GLAZED OVER, AND HEAR HIS WHISPER OF A VOICE, AS IF IT HAPPENED ONLY MOMENTS EARLIER. I STILL HAVE NO WAY OF RECONCILING WHAT HAPPENED, AND EVEN THOUGH I AM KEEN ABOUT PARANORMAL QUALITIES AND QUANTITIES, AND HAVE SEEN MANY GHOSTS IN OLD HOUSES I HAVE RESIDED, I STILL HAVEN'T CONCLUDED AFTER ALL THESE YEARS.....THAT MY BENEFACTOR WAS OF THE SPIRIT-KIND. I DID WATCH THE OBITUARIES FOR SEVERAL YEARS, AFTER THE VISITATION, THINKING I MIGHT HAVE BEEN ABLE TO IDENTIFY HIM FROM AN ACCOMPANYING PHOTOGRAPH. I REALLY DID WANT TO PUT A NAME TO THE ENCOUNTER, AND THE SUBSEQUENT DONATION.
     I COULD WRITE A BOOK ABOUT ALL THE STRANGE OCCURRENCES AND EVENTS THAT HAPPENED TO ME, WORKING IN THE HERALD-GAZETTE BUILDING, DURING MY TENURE AS EDITOR, BACK IN THE 1980'S. BUT MY MEETING WITH THE OLD CHAP, AND THE HANDING-OVER OF THE ARCHIVES COLLECTION, WILL ALWAYS BE AN UNRESOLVED ISSUE IN MY RECOLLECTIONS. SOMEWHERE HERE AT BIRCH HOLLOW, I STILL HAVE SOME OF THE NEWSPAPERS, GIVEN TO ME ON THAT RATHER ENCHANTED MORNING, IN UPTOWN BRACEBRIDGE.
     THANKS AGAIN FOR TAKING SOME TIME OUT OF YOUR BUSY DAY, TO STOP FOR A VISIT.