I don’t remember the exact year, but it was sometime in the mid-1970s that the U.S. (or at least the major media) said it was experiencing a recession. Gas stations were closed on Sundays (remember that one?) and Johnny Carson came out in his monologue that Americans would soon experience a shortage of toilet paper.
The joke was on us. There was no recession. The only recession we had was the one we fabricated ourselves. Let me digress.
I was working at the Sheldon Mail-Sun newspapers; the latter headed by the late, great Frank Morlan and his wonderful wife, Sally. Frank talked with us—his four associate editors—and asked us if we should “tighten up” our copy, i.e., meaning cut our descriptive adjectives and flowing oratory. None of us liked that road.
Well, I began a trek to find out just how severe that mid-1970s recession was with the intention of writing about it locally. I visited with retailers up and down Sheldon’s business district. We talked. I told them I honestly did not believe there was a recession as that portrayed by our overzealous national media. In each case, the business people agreed one degree or another. Each told me they were thinking what I was thinking, but simply didn’t talk about it.
So, I came up with an idea. I drew up a mock newspaper and went back to each of the retailers. (I am now guessing there were over sixty of them in and around Sheldon.) Anyway, I asked each to put in an advertisement for their respective businesses and also place a mini-editorial with their thoughts on the supposed national recession America was feeling. They liked the idea from the biggest retailer to the smallest, and each jumped at the idea.
I began putting what would be an insert to one of the regular two newspapers Sheldon came out with each week. I didn’t tell anyone at the news office what I was doing, and Frank being the great boss he was never asked me what I was working on.
I finished the broad sheet, had each retailer approve their ad, and then showed the finished paper—something like twenty-four pages laden with ads from top to bottom. Each of the retailers wrote how phony and made-up the concocted recession was and they told why.
Frank Morlan had never seen anything like it. He looked over the pages I had laid out, and with a tear coming out of his eye turned to me, smiled, and said, “Wayne, you are the craziest Pollock.”
