Good Night, Mr. James and Other Stories by Clifford D. Simak

Author:Clifford D. Simak
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Open Road Media
Published: 2016-05-05T14:20:08+00:00

Galactic Chest

Perhaps providing us with a satirical portrait of the workings of a big-city newspaper of six decades ago, this story was rejected by editors H. F. Gold, John W. Campbell Jr., Anthony Boucher, and Leo Margulies before finally being purchased by Robert A. W. Lowndes more than a year later after it was first submitted in January 1955. It then saw its first publication in the September 1956 issue of Science Fiction Stories.

It’s a lightweight story, no doubt, but there is value to be found in it, not least in its evocation of Cold War–era America (something Cliff viewed with regret, even alarm, in a number of stories written during that period). But I always chuckle a little as Cliff—as he did in several earlier stories—reprises a journalistic tradition of giving the nickname “Lightning” to the paper’s copy boy.

—dww

I had just finished writing the daily Community Chest story, and each day I wrote that story I was sore about it; there were plenty of punks in the office who could have ground out that kind of copy. Even the copy boys could have written it and no one would have known the difference; no one ever read it—except maybe some of the drive chairmen, and I’m not even sure about them reading it.

I had protested to Barnacle Bill about my handling the Community Chest for another year. I had protested loud. I had said: “Now, you know, Barnacle, I been writing that thing for three or four years. I write it with my eyes shut. You ought to get some new blood into it. Give one of the cubs a chance; they can breathe some life into it. Me, I’m all written out on it.”

But it didn’t do a bit of good. The Barnacle had me down on the assignment book for the Community Chest, and he never changed a thing once he put it in the book.

I wish I knew the real reason for that name of his. I’ve heard a lot of stories about how it was hung on him, but I don’t think there’s any truth in them. I think he got it simply from the way he can hang on to a bar.

I had just finished writing the Community Chest story and was sitting there, killing time and hating myself, when along came Jo Ann. Jo Ann was the sob sister on the paper; she got some lousy yarns to write, and that’s a somber fact. I guess it was because I am of a sympathetic nature, and took pity on her, and let her cry upon my shoulder that we got to know each other so well. By now, of course, we figure we’re in love; off and on we talk about getting married, as soon as I snag that foreign correspondent job I’ve been angling for.

“Hi, kid,” I said.

And she says, “Do you know, Mark, what the Barnacle has me down for today?”

“He’s finally ferreted out a one-armed paperhanger,” I guessed, “and he wants you to do a feature.

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