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The day book. (Chicago, Ill.) 1911-1917, August 19, 1914, LAST EDITION, Image 20

Image and text provided by University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign Library, Urbana, IL

Persistent link: http://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn83045487/1914-08-19/ed-1/seq-20/

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"SUNDAY TOWN"
By Augustus Goodrich Sherwin.
(Copynght by W. G. Chapman.)
"Looks like as if "every day was
Sunday in this dead old town, eh,
neighbor?" remarked a patriarch of
the town in question.
"That's right," asserted a com
panion very slightly his junior in local
history.
"The Norths made it, the Norths
killed it," added the first speaker sen-
I Si I! III!!!! Ifii IHHSu
The Norths Made It, the Norths
Killed It!"
tentiously, and then both glanced
quite appropriately over at a great
unoccupied factory building, with
small structures and any number of
workmen's cottages about it, also un
occupied. Gloom and decay were expressed in
the presentment. The great gates of
the plant beynnd through which
trooped happy and hopeful artisans
hung loosely. There was an array of
(hrakn jvindows. Here and. .there
the cement casing of the factory had
crumbled away. The yards were
overgrown with weeds. Dismal deso
lation was suggested at every angle
of vision.
The history of the great abandoned
plant of John North, for ten years a
busy hive of industry, had engulfed
the history of the town itself. At the
height of seeming prosperity there
had come an awful crash. Stories of
speculation, of extravagance, of enor
mous outside investments were rife.
A receiver had been appointed, the
assets of the business sacrificed and
Walter Drury, the young manager of
the city office of the plant, was ar
rested and sent to the state peniten
tiary for ten years on a charge of
forgery, embezzlement and falsifying
the books of the concern.
Drury was unknown in Fairfield
and everybody pitied old John North,
who died a month after the crash. He
left a daughter and two sons, at the
time small children. They were
given into the charge of an aunt in
a distant state. The plant and the
splendid North residence were left to
the estate, but stripped of their con
tents. Nobody wanted to occupy a
plant or(a mansion with which such
gloomy memories were connected
and both had remained vacant.
It was on the very day that the two
old pioneers discussed the situation
of what had become widely known as
"Sunday town," that a stranger ar
rived on the afternoon train. He was
neat in his dress, tall, dark, and re
served in his manner. He registered
at the one little hotel of Fairfield as
Paul Moore and his first visit was to
the office of old Judge Martin, who
nominally had what was left as the
North estate in charge.
After that this Paul Mbore became
a familiar figure in the town. His
bearing was impressive, sad and sub
dued. He was kindly and courteous
to those he met, but conversed briefly
on all occasions.
"A strange man, but full of won
derful power and. sensp," remarked

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