Red Harvest

I

A Woman in Green and a Man in Gray

I first heard Personville called “Poisonville” by a red-haired mucker named Hickey Dewey in the Big Ship in Butte. He also called his shirt a “shoit.” I didn’t think anything of what he had done to the city’s name. Later I heard men who could manage their r’s give it the same pronunciation. I still didn’t see anything in it but the meaningless sort of humor that used to make “richardsnary” the thieves’ word for “dictionary.” A few years later I went to Personville and learned better.

Using one of the phones in the station, I called the Herald, asked for Donald Willsson, and told him I had arrived.

“Will you come out to my house at ten this evening?” He had a pleasantly crisp voice. “It’s 2101 Mountain Boulevard. Take a Broadway car, get off at Laurel Avenue, and walk two blocks west.”

I promised to do that. Then I rode up to the Great Western Hotel, dumped my bags, and went out to look at the city.