LAMINATE, WV — The headline on a recent front page of the “Laminate Lackadaisical” newspaper was startling.  It reported that: “Hitler Invades Poland.”

It wasn’t a big story, although editor Walt “Bones” Heywood found room for it under a small article about an apartment fire in nearby Enoch, next to the election of a mayor in Cressmont and above an ad for new suits. 

Only the ad was up-to-date.

Lee Ederly was elected mayor of Cressmont, but that was in 1968.  He’s dead now.  Of course, Hitler did send his troops into Poland, but not recently.  Fires are not that uncommon in Enoch apartments, but no fire hit these apartments.  They don’t exist; they never did.

Editor Heywood does exist.  He can be found in his small office, cigar smoke in hand, busily scanning newswires and other newspapers; his worn black shoes acting like paperweights, piles of materials on his desk, calmly creating new news and reporting old news. 

“You mean Hitler is dead?” he gasped in apparent seriousness when told his headline was out-of-date.  “Why wasn’t I told?  Nothing moved over the wire.”  He scurried about for a moment, a small round man with strands of hair combed decorously across an otherwise bald top.  “Are you sure?”

“Who cares what Hitler is doing these days?” said Evans Loman, mayor of this central West Virginia community.  “The important thing is that we know eventually.”  His election has still not been reported in the Lackadaisical, although he assumed office 12 years ago.

“News is a state of mind,” added Councilman Wendell-Zachary Rockmont.  “We are doing all right with whatever Heywood reports, whenever he finds the room to report it.”

Heywood, 51, is philosophical.  “The problem is advertising,” he explained in a hushed tone.  There are only a few small companies in Laminate, itself isolated amid the Appalachian Mountains.  As a result, the newspaper never makes much money, he said, certainly not enough to purchase space for all of the stories that should run.

“I have to pick and choose.” Heywood said.

What about stories about fires in apartment houses that don’t exist?  “Filler.” said Heywood.  “No one here ever goes much to Enoch anyway so no one cares.  And no one in Enoch reads my paper.”

The Lackadaisical has been following its erratic course since its founding in 1875, 1876 or 1910.  No one is sure of the exact date, and the early copies are missing.  Heywood said he burned them to keep warm during a late spring frost some years ago.  But, he said proudly that he did save some of the stories for later use. 

The paper appears on Tuesday and Thursdays and every effort is made to include as many names of townspeople in the news columns as possible.  “Naturally, I have to be a little creative,” Heywood said, “but people don’t seem to mind.”

“It was strange to learn I had single-handedly won a lacrosse game.” admitted Franklin Roberts, a mechanic at the town garage.  “I’ve never heard of lacrosse.  But after friends started congratulating me, I thought it was nice.  I started reading up on it and bought me a cesta.  If any lacrosse team ever comes through here, I’ll be ready.”

“What do we need news for anyway?” asked Mayor Elderly.  “Plays games with your mind.  You know what I mean?  With the Lackadaisical, you can read it, learn something and not worry at the same time.”

Not even the weather report is accurate.  This Thursday in early August was warm with temperatures hitting the low 80’s under clear skies.  The Lackadaisical reported that the day should be overcast, rain “likely” with temperatures in the 40’s.  Snow was predicted for the coming week.  The notation from the National Weather Service under the map indicated the forecast was for October 1971.

“Just walk outside, and you can see the weather for yourself,” said Heywood.  “Predictions are always wrong anyway.  I just put the weather report in because some people insist on it.  There are always troublemakers anywhere.”

There is definitely at least one in Laminate.  “It would be nice to have a current story occasionally.” Said Clover Kline, a feisty former miner who returned to his hometown in 1993 and has been arguing with Heywood about his news judgment ever since.

Almost on a daily basis, Kline talks to his neighbors, visits friends and picks up news tidbits about town.  He then delivers the information to Heywood who rarely uses it.  “You’d think he’d find room for some of it.” Kline complained, rubbing his thick, gnarled hands together.

“I’ve only got so much room.” Heywood countered.  “Now, about this Hitler guy?  Do you think I’ll get something over the wire soon?”