Stands 5'11", medium of build with brown hair, p blue eyes. One hundred sixty pounds. Generally wears a sack suit with shirt & tye. Has a slight worn dark gray low top hat. When on the move, he wears the oldest of his clothes.
Traits & Characteristics
Fair and honest publishing. (+)
Tough when trouble comes. (-/+)
True to his given word or handshake. (+)
When forced he'll stand his ground. (-)
Phinn is a likable cuss unless a printed story sheds a poor light on you. He is, for the most part, friendly and outgoing. Generally likes people and considers everyone a friend until proven otherwise.
None at this time
Top writer and typesetter with the Grand Island Independent, Grand Island Nebraska 1869-1874
None at this time, but, it's early yet. You know how newspaper men can be.
1843 ~ 1850
Worked as a printers devil and lived at home. His schooling was working the type cases, counting sheets a paper to be printed. His mother took care of his writing, spelling and the like.
1850 ~ 1858
Ran away from home at 17. Pressman~Omaha World-Herald 1850
Columnist~Omaha World-Herald 1858~1861
Talk of secession was spreading throughout the country and being southern born and bred, Phin headed south to join up just as the war broke out. he was assigned to the Tennessee Mounted Rifles and met then privet Nathan Forrest.
1861 ~ 1865
He is a fair shot with either rifle or pistol from his time in the War Between The States. He served with Nathan Bedford Forrest onward in the 3rd Virginia Cavalry and through his commands to the Forrest's Cavalry Corps. He discharged at wars end as a First Sergeant.
1865 ~ 1869
Fairly disillusioned, Phinn sort of drifted one meaningless job to the next until he found himself back in Omaha in where he did odd jobs until he saw an ad for a columnist in Grand Island.
1869 ~ 1874
Not only did he win the job, but he also agreed to take on typesetting job for which he was well trained. Phinn emersed himself in the community where he met, courted and married Elizabeth "Beth" Howell if a middle-class family For the next three years they were the happiest couple in Grand Island. However, the winter of '74 was harsher than normal, Beth took a fall and contracted pneumonia. She could never regain enough strength to fight it and succumbed.
Once the funeral was completed, Phinn sold the hose and everything of value. Bought a wagon, two mules, a saddle horse, an old press and type cases along with paper and inks and headed west.
Possibly the 8th or 9th grade Languages Spoken:
Animals: A pair of grey mules to pull his wagon and black saddle horse
Every town needs a newspaper, Phinn fills the bill and then some.
Phin nearly dropped his pencil when he looked up to see Orr flash his 'yes' vote. "Grandstander." He muttered, not caring if anyone heard the remark or not. Realizing of course, that his popularity vacillated with whatever was in the current issue.
To him this was the way of most town Councils, small, narrow minded, in it for themselves their constituents be damned! He knew that there was no money in it for any of them, and money spoke. The job, and they received a stipend monthly, was to to do what was best for the community, what would serve the people rather than what would serve them.
And it seemed there was always a four-flusher in charge of these debacle prone boards. Always. A man smart enough to be better, but corrupt enough not to give a good goddamned! Not about the town, it's citizens, or the welfare of anyone, except himself. And that would be "Tricky Dick" Orr.
His pencil was moving as fast he he could to record the goings on of the meeting, paying close attention to Richard T. Orr who was orchestrating the meeting to head in only the direction he chose. This was age old in the halls of any government.
Phin had a smile on his face as Missus Pike unleashed on Dick Orr. And it was, to his way of thinking, well deserved. And then Leah Steelgrave got to her feet and let loose her sentiments, which he agreed with. This was shaping up to be quite the next edition!
"Phin? You hear about the meeting of the Town Council, slated for five o'clock this evening?"
"Hell no! You think them four flushing , jackwagons'd invite the Union to one of their contrived meetings? No on your life, son!!" Came the response, "But you can bet I'll be there, this should be good. Maybe, just maybe they'll bring up Miss Steelgrave's hospital project they've shelved for no good reason but their own egos!"
Speed smiled, "Be my take you don't much cotton to the Town Council we have."
I do not sir! They do nothing for this community, nothing that doesn't benefit them. Just like any other city government anywhere. Their goal is to enrich themselves an' the hell with everyone else. Like they were some kind of royalty, for Christ's sake!" He shook his head. "Crooks, the lot of them worse than Elias or Case Steelgrave because they don't take it all at once, but a little bit at a time."
"Now I'd have to agree with that, and I have to go and take young Charlie Wentworth with me to protect them.Ironic, ain't it?"
"Well, damn sure should be interesting this evening." Phin added.
"As you will young lady, as you will." Phin replied, waiting to hear her footballs, which he could hear fading away from the office door. He turned and walked back to his desk, and his chair, sitting down, then leaning back as he pondered.
'A simple retraction.' He thought. "The youngster wanted a simple retraction for the line, 'No thanks to Arabella Mudd.' He rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he considered her demand. It would certainly be easy enough to slip in the next issue, yet he had to consider what would be printed in said retraction. And then, there was the accusation that he, Phinias G. McVay, simply made up stories. What were the words used? Oh yes, “Unless nobody told you that and you just made it up yourself, like everybody says you do when you write them newspaper stories!”
He quickly jotted down her words. 'A simple retraction was it? Not being sure just who this solicitor she had retained was, that would bear some investigation.
And how is it that you 'know' I was not at the wedding? How is it that you have such information, was it that you did not 'see' me there, or perhaps that I was not at the reception, so you 'assumed' I was not at the nuptials as well? Are you quite positive that your facts are correct?"
"And just how is it you believe you warrant a retraction, Miss Mudd? Is there some statement that is incorrect? A quote attributed to you that you did not make? An outright lie, perhaps. Please, oh wait, let me get a copy and you might point that out to me."
Phin stood back, a smile forming on his face, a real thespian this Arabella Mudd, thinking anyone would believe that , well, there was the chance, yes, there were those who just might want to believe such a thing of him, but then, there were many more who knew Arabella, knew of her flights of fantasy, and vivid imagination. Knew of her conniving to intrude, to magnify her importance, or her talent, or her abilities, and granted, she had both.
However, Arabella Mudd was a child still, tho old enough to marry, or to be preparing for the University. But, to be playing that he, Phinias McVay, a man almost three times her age, would have any interest in the daydreamer. This was beyond preposterous!
"Then I suggest you go to the Marshall, and we shall then go to Doctor Danforth, should that become necessary. I shall wait here for his knock. If this is about a simple retraction, perhaps." He concluded.
Phinias G. McVay, editor and Chief of the often maligned Kalispell Union had been napping in his chair, feet up on his desk, when he heard the commotion at the front door. A barage of insults, name calling, and legal threats. All of which he had heard before. He recognized the voice immediately as that of one Miss Arabella Mudd. He sighed heavily as his feet dropped to the plank floor.
One thing he was sure of, if he did not go to the door, open it, and fall victim to more verbal abuse, she would continue for God only knew how long, or perhaps it was Satan that had that information. He got to his feet and started for the door when he heard "I'll gaum up yer print works" which translated to an attack on his printing press! There would be no opening of the door for her.
One he reached the portal he stopped and listened. When there was an opening, he took it."We are closed Miss Mudd! It is past business hours. Should you persist in this display of juvenile behavior and outlandish threats I'll be forced to go to the Town Marshal with a complaint." He shouted. "You can submit your complaint in writing and slip it under the door for my perusal."
Sagas of the WIld West is a roleplaying game set in a fictionalized version of the town of Kalispell in Montana territory. Our stories begin in 1875 and are set against the backdrop of actual historical events.Sagas was inspired by the classic television and movie westerns. Our focus is on writing, storytelling and character development.
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