The Great Misunderstanding

Newsmen in Portland, Ore., who wanted the word from the sheriff's office did not call on big, tousle-haired Sheriff Mike Elliott to get it. Not that the sheriff might not see them at the courthouse if he was in a benign mood--it was just that he usually did nothing but snort: "Why do you guys keep calling me a politician? I'm a statesman. A statesman is for the people!" His news releases, however, could be obtained by going to Brownie's U-Drive and asking for Richard ("Brownie") Brown.

Brownie was a pal of the sheriff. The papers, on the other hand, were after him hot & heavy. So were a lot of the citizenry. In fact a bipartisan committee headed by Admiral Thomas L. Gatch, the retired Pacific war hero, was trying to kick the sheriff, diamond-studded badge and all, out of office by way of a recall election.

Ard & Lard. Big Mike had been in bad odor ever since his election last November; people just wouldn't take the trouble to understand him. He had gotten elected, for instance, by running on the Democratic ticket as a former University of Michigan football player, and a patriot who had served 6 1/2 years in the Marine Corps. Then it developed that he had never been to Michigan, had been a marine only 23 months (before Pearl Harbor), and had been parted from the service after three courts-martial.

Not the least embarrassed by these revelations, Mike set out to demonstrate his zeal for law enforcement, began raiding gambling joints, breaking up slot machines and punchboards. He even raided a law enforcement officers' club called the "Footprinters" and fired one of his deputies, one Ard Pratt (a nephew of the former sheriff), for being there. But Mike soon took Ard back and became so pally with him that the two became known as Ard and Lard. He also lost his zeal for knocking over slot machines.

The $6,600-a-year sheriff bought an airplane, a new automobile and a new house. He took his wife on a trip to Lake Tahoe. He got the county to provide a $163 uniform which was loaded with gold braid. But Ard himself told him "not to put that damn thing on and make a fool of himself." It seemed that no matter what he did, people objected.

No Surrender. Before long Mike had split the Oregon Democratic Party, had demoralized operations at the Multnomah County Courthouse, had gotten involved in bitter feuds with the county commissioners and the Civil Service Commission. But Portland was sure that Mike was cooked at last. By last weekend 29,000 of 30,000 signatures necessary for a recall election had been gathered.

Big Mike had no intention of giving up. He got Brownie from the U-Drive to run his campaign against the recall and issued new pronunciamentos. "Why do the politicians want me out of office?" bawled Mike. "Could it be that they are frightened at what I will uncover? Don't let them sway you with their distortions of [my] innocent mistakes."

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.