Page Three
FROM THE ARCHIVES.......1986
mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
 
flag-draped knotty pine casket pulled by two brown mules, and behind the casket a flower-festooned truck carrying Dr. Measely's spotlight, which occa- sionally came to life without warning, swinging this way and that, sending hot 1250° beams willy nilly among the mourners, and causing them to scatter frantically.  A large model of a black hole was pulled by a U.S.P.S. delivery jeep to symbolize Sir Hor- ton's greatest discovery of all, the black hole in the Newark Bulk Mail Center.  His son and heir, Bill Measely, walked quietly along, accompanied by a small group of pig-nosed macaques, and sometimes stopped to wipe his face with a red check handker- chief.
        A gravelly voice boomed suddenly over the hills and headstones.  “Horton Measely was a man whom we knew, and who knew us, and who knew that we knew him. Horton Measely was a man, and he knew it.”  The ceremony went on that way, brief but poignant, filled with glowing accolades from colleagues and detractors alike.
        Eventually people grew bored and began to drift off. The sun broke through the clouds as the final vigilant slipped silently away.  Light breezes ruffled the petals of the flowers on the great man's grave.  A dog picked up a wreath in its mouth and carried it off.  It began to rain.

Measely Buried at Arlington

by Nooz staffer
Aimsley Brockgarden
       Rain squalls darkened the horizon and rapidly moving clouds periodically obscured the scene yesterday as the Sir Horton Measely cortege moved solemnly through the streets of Washington on its way to the Arlington National Cemetary.  Though the scene was sometimes hidden, nothing could conceal the greatness of the man, gone now because his hydrogen laser spotlight swung around with- out warning and burned him severely.
        People stopped and looked up from their shopping as the growing crowd went by, past the Washington Monument, past the Lincoln Memorial, past the Tomb of the Unknown Primate, across the Arlington Memorial Bridge, and into the cool, clean air of Arlington Cemetary. A 707 flying high up seemed to dip its wings in salute, but that was probably only one person's imagination.
        Millions of closed eyes looked on as the great horde of dozens of simple people inched hesitantly down the grassy aisles.  In the midst of the nervous throng was the
 
..........dateline : HELLMOUTH..........
  Hellmouth, Arizona.  12 May 1957.  It was a day like other days.  It had hours and minutes.  It had dull time and exciting time.  It had events.  It had people.  It had heat.  It had a flow.  The sun was partly out that fateful day, and it was partly cloudy.  At one point it began to sprinkle, then thought better of it.  It was a Wednesday, that dead mid-time of the week that everyone hates.  But just as the Runnamuck Rabbits and the Cheesequake Chinquapins had wobbled to a dull 2-2 tie in the Horntoad County 2nd Annual Base- ball Tournament, something happened that put the date of 5-12-57 in the Horntoad River Valley history books, that made almost everyone sit up from what- ever they were doing for at least a few moments and take notice, something that changed forever the lives of those few people who were fortunate to have been there to witness it, or at least thought they were.
     That something was the visit to Hellmouth of the Secretary-General of the U.N. Primate Inspection
 
  Team, Mr. Trimmis Weithorn, and the tour he took that day of the Primate Nooz facilities with publisher Randall Smeese and Executive Editor John Harvey Winterhouse.  The unexpected visit sealed the Nooz's reputation in Southwest Arizona.  Never again would it be sneered at quite as much as it had been before. Never again would it lack that basic level of respect that it had only dreamed of previously.  Never again would it be forced to dither and dudder when a hostile voice from the back of the room would call out for information about the corporate structure of the Ralph A. Bennett Teasdale Corporation.  That was certainly the day when everything changed!  Not quite as much fruit was thrown at the Nooz's office door.  Not quite so many times did the editors have to sneak out for lunch wearing disguises.  Not to quite the same extent did they have to listen to those irate criticisms of the Nooz over KNUZ-FM's "Talk of the County."  That was a watershed day, and make no mistake about it!
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