Jefferson County Online A part of the IAGenWeb and USGenWeb Projects Who's Who in 1921 & 1922 Sanford Zeigler

"The Fairfield Tribune"
Friday, March 18, 1921
Page SIX

NO. 7

SANFORD ZEIGLER

The assemblage will please rise and greet Fairfield's new mayor-almost-elect. Also another greet for the winner of the grand championship in the matter of long-distance running as a member of the school board.

"This unusual picture," as the illustrated articles in the newspapers and magazines say, of His-Soon-To-Be-Honor presents Sanford Zeigler in a situation strange to most of his acquaintances and there might be some to doubt its truthfulness were it not for the fact that two of Fairfield's most credible citizens attest to the truth of it.

The title of this picture might well be "You Poor Fish," for the fish which San is so proudly displaying has much the appearance of having been an opponent of his in a political race. How the fish came to be so terribly mangled is a thrilling story. We should like very much to tell it in the exact and graphic language it was recited to the writer by those sterling citizens, Ralph Lamson and Henry Alston. Extraordinary care was taken by these two veracious gentlemen to make no statement which deviated in the least from the actual facts. Of course, this statement is entirely unnecessary to those who know Ralph and Henry. But lack of space forbids telling the story with its wealth of intimate detail as related by these two worthy gentlemen, and we hasten to a condensed narrative of the facts which must, of course, rob the story of its picturesque features.

It happened down at Port Arthur, Texas. San had been fishing all day long from the pier and hadn't had much luck. He'd watched some of the native fishermen make frequent catches of fish of uninteresting size and he told Lamson and Alston he intended to stay on the job until he caught one bigger than any that had been caught.

Finally San got a real bite. With wonderful dexterity he manipulated his catch until he got it to the surface of the water--and didn't get the leas bit (sic) excited over it. But when he saw the size of it--'twas fully eighteen inches long--he lost his head. What follows, it must be borne in mind by the reader, is the statement of the two veracious gentlemen who have been mentioned.

San landed the fish on the pier and it immediately showed a vigorous inclination to return to its native element. San wanted to save that fish to have mounted, bring home and leave to an admiring posterity. Using his fishing pole as a club he swatted the fish a whack which almost stunned it and gave him time to find some clubs and other weapons. Seizing these he rushed upon the fish, which was wriggling nearer to the edge of the pier, and belabored it. As an additional precaution he jumped on it with both feet. Eventualy the fish was subdued and, with the exception of an occasional flip of its tail, which Sam would meet with a cuff from a club, seemed to give up the struggle. History, in the person of Lamson and Alston, does not record what became of the fish.

Now the foregoing may or may not be entirely true, for there are people who will say that half the lies Alston and Lamson tell on other fellows are not true. But the Tribune gives the story as these gentlemen tell it and posterity will have to accept it as these historians relate it.

Just now Fairfield people are more interested in Sanford Zeigler in an official capacity than as a fisherman, however. For be it known that this same Sanford Zeigler of fishing fame is the same San that has been doing considerable political sprinting in the last week. And San has demonstrated for the steenth time that he is some sprinter in a political race.

Some of the fellows told San the other day they wanted him to run for mayor of Fairfield.

"I will not be a candidate under any circumstances," said San. When the next bunch of fellows saw him about it he told them the same thing except he left off the last word. When another bunch saw him he left off another word. It went on that way with each succeeding bunch which saw him, San dropping another word each time, until the day after the caucus San didn't have breath enough left to whisper but the first two words, "I will," and then gave up just like the poor fish at Port Arthur.

Sanford didn't have any trouble getting the nomination for mayor--it was wished on him. He was nominated by a nice, healthy vote which eliminated any thought of any opposition. And, there being no candidate against him, his friends feel that he has a reasonably good chance to be elected.

San got the nomination for member of the school board dead easy, too. You see he's been getting that for so many years that he knew exactly how to go about it. That was pie. San rather wanted that job, probably because there isn't any pay in it. Everything was lovely and San went about his business buying chickens and forty-cent corn without giving the matter any further thought, supposing the voters would make it unanimous as they have been doing for the last dozen years or so. Then came the bomb.

"Hey, San!" an excited citizen rushed in to tell him, "blamed if they ain't goin' to try and beatcha! With a woman, too! Whadye think of the nerve of 'em?"

San's face registered concern, not to say fright. He went home, shined his shoes, put on a clean collar and a new necktie. Then he went on a few mysterious errands. He saw a few friends who had some little information about getting out the vote------. There really isn't much of anything more to it. The vote got out a few days later--lots of votes--about four times as many as had ever got out to a school election before. San didn't get all of them, but he got enough to nose safely under the wire and he was hardly winded. As a runner Sanford Zeigler does his best when he is hard pressed.

San's friends say that it is very fitting that he should serve as mayor of Fairfield. It is not sufficient that he should have had the honor of a dozen years or so as a member of the school board; nor that he should have had heaped upon him the honors of city councilman, say these friends. Such honors are quite enough to overwhelm the average citizen; but San's friends say they wish to see him atain (sic) the dizzy heights of the mayor's chair. It would be the crowning honor in a life heaped with honors, they say, and would enable San to round out a peaceful old age. Of course San has held such minor ofices (sic) as county supervisor and president of the Fair association, but these pale before the breath-taking height he will reach on March 28.

The office of mayor has certainly been wished on Sanford Zeigler. He didn't aspire to it and he didn't want it. But, having accepted it, you can count on him taking hold of the job with both hands and giving the city an administration which will not be content with being a mere business administration, but also a progressive one. San knows that one way for a city or an individual to save money is just to hoard it up and never spend any; but he also knows that another way is to spend some. There's a lot of people thinking that Sanford Zeigler is going to make a cracking good mayor and where there are so many people of one mind they're not likely to all be wrong. If San should fall down on the job it would be the first time he ever fell down on anything.