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I looked around at the other long faces. “They’ve delisted Sherman as a town? Can they do that? When it’s the county seat?” With the courthouse in the center of town to prove it.
“What are you talking about? Of course it’s still a town,” Audrey said.
“You said—”
“I said the listing of Wyoming towns is out — you know, cutest towns in the state or most historic towns in the state or best towns to visit in the state or best hidden gems in the state. Sherman didn’t make it on any of those lists.”
“Has Sherman ever been on these lists?” I could see how dropping off such a list might lower spirits. Slightly. Momentarily.
“No, but that doesn’t mean we don’t belong,” Leona D’Amato said dourly.
She’s been with the station forever, officially as the part-time social and cultural life reporter. Unofficially, she’s our into-the-breach anchor.
She hates hard news. Hates anchoring. Hates full-time. All that hate is wearing on her.
Something needed to change. Though I was not fond of the most obvious fix — my becoming the anchor.
“That’s right. Sherman deserves to be on there somewhere,” Audrey said. “And other towns hogged multiple spots. How is that fair? Especially since...”
“Especially since what?”
She gusted out a sigh. “Mike was counting on it. He said that if we could promote Sherman and the county, maybe we could get more applicants for the management jobs and anchor. But we need something newsy to peg it off of. You know, Just named the town you’d most love to visit that you’ve never heard of, something like that.”
The faces grew longer. After months of improved morale, I hated seeing this.
“Why should we let someone else’s list stop us? Who are these people making the lists, anyway? If Sherman’s not on a list other people made up, then we make our own.” My speech wasn’t quite Mickey Rooney and Judy Garland saying, Hey kids, let’s put on a show! But it was close.
In those old movies — yes, I’ve also watched some of them with Tamantha — the rest of the kids bounce up and follow their brave leaders with enthusiasm.
I got blank stares.
“Like what?” Audrey asked for all of them.
“A tour of Wyoming towns named after Civil War generals. Sheridan, Sherman...” It was the best I could do off the top of my head, but I ran out of generals.
“Rawlins,” Diana offered.
“Buford,” Walt, one of the reporters, said. “That’s the town sold for almost a million dollars back around 2010. Advertised as the country’s smallest town.”
Audrey snorted. “Not even Wyoming’s smallest town — at least not all the time. Hartville’s gone down to a population of one, bounced back up to four or five, then back to one. And it has all sorts of historical claims, too. I know because it’s all over these lists.” She tapped her central screen. “Just look — Wyoming’s first town, longest operating bar, and that gets it the most historic town overall title, too. It’s hogging all those categories.”
My suggestion had not noticeably lifted anyone’s spirits. “It doesn’t need to be Civil War generals.”
“Wilson was named after one of the first Pony Express riders,” offered Jerry, who ran the studio cameras.
“Wasn’t the Pony Express route in southern Wyoming, largely along the same route as the railroad — generally where I-80 is now?” I was not without some knowledge of the state and its history after nearly two years here.
More importantly, after nearly two years of acquaintance with and tutelage by Emmaline Parens. Now officially retired from a long career as a teacher and principal, she hadn’t slowed down any in disseminating knowledge, whether the recipients liked it or not.
“Right,” Jerry confirmed.
“So, how does that help Sherman?” Leona asked.
“It doesn’t.” His deflated admission dropped the mood another notch.
“At least it’s not Laramie,” Walt said.
“What’s the matter with Laramie?” I asked. As the location for the University of Wyoming, it usually got good reviews.
