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Wandering But Not Lost

Wandering But Not Lost

By Rich Grady

I spend a lot of time wandering in the woods behind my house. I did it when I was a free-range kid in elementary school, and now that I’m a free-range septuagenarian, it still gives me a sense of belonging to something bigger than me. It also untethers memories of the past.

I used to cut through the woods going to and from elementary school as a kid, which was against the rules. I was like a swamp fox and had evaded notice for several years, until sixth grade when one of my supercilious classmates who was on the Safety Patrol tattled on me to my teacher who was also the school principal. She kept me after school and lectured me on the demerits of breaking the rules, and told me that I had to walk to and from school on the street and not via the woods. Being a kid who asked a lot of questions, I wanted to know why there was a rule against walking through the woods, since it was a shorter and more direct route to my house. As she ate her afternoon snack of pickled pigs feet and bread sticks, she proceeded to explain between bites that if there was a nuclear explosion, they needed to know where to look for the bodies; and if mine was in the woods, they might not be able to find me. This explanation stuck with me like the pigs feet between her teeth; and yet, I returned to my shortcut on subsequent commutes after clarifying with my Safety Patrol classmate that it was more assured that his tattletale face would be altered by a tatterdemalion such as myself before the principal would be looking for our bodies after a nuclear attack. Besides, as far as I was concerned, it would be easier to find me if there were fewer bodies to sort through.

I don’t remember being afraid of nuclear holocaust, but I do remember looking at pictures in a book about Hiroshima and Nagasaki that my WWII veteran father had bought after the war. He mostly read the newspapers, and didn’t buy many books for himself, so this one stood out on the shelves that he built to hold our encyclopedias. I read about nuclear fission in one of the volumes and recall it being all about making electricity as compared to incinerating a city and its people. The instantaneous and unprecedented destruction of these nuclear blasts – and the threat of more – factored heavily into Japan’s surrender shortly thereafter.

As these old memories melted and more immediate sensations of my walk in the woods on New Year’s Day prevailed, I listened to the crunch of my footfalls on the crusty snow, and felt the sting of the cold air on my face. I was bushwhacking with no particular destination or timetable, and I was acutely aware of my surroundings. Deer tracks had my attention but I left some bandwidth for the sound of creaking branches overhead, poised to leap if necessary to avoid a falling limb. I don’t call them widow-makers anymore, since I am a widower and the consequences of being struck by a falling limb seem different now, as do many things.

The woods are laced with stonewalls and sprinkled with artifacts of past human habitation – a rusted pail here, the bones of a car there. An old stone foundation begs questions of the past in the current moment – who lived there; did they build the house themselves; how many kids did they have; did they abandon the house; why? Will someone far from now ask such questions about me, my children, and my house? My school days are long past, but I still ask a lot of questions. And perhaps more than ever, I know that adults don’t have all the answers.

In retrospect, I think it was strange to make schoolkids worry about a nuclear attack, but it was plausible at the time – and maybe even more so, now. Kids today seem to have plenty to worry about, and I’m sure they have a lot of questions. I just don’t know where they are getting their answers, and I suspect that they are not getting out into the woods enough. The days of free-ranging kids seem to be long past. We were tempered by different flames back in the days of my youth. Accepting the possibility of mutually assured destruction had a way of hardening your constitution, like realizing that your parents were going to die someday. This dawned on me when my paternal grandfather died. He had come over from Ireland as a young man and met my grandmother who had also come across by ship. They got married and raised my father and his brothers and sisters in Dorchester during the James Michael Curley years, which spanned the Great Depression.

I wish I could talk to them about those times, but it’s too late now. I was too young to be curious about it when my grandparents were alive and too pre-occupied with my own era when my parents were still alive to ask about theirs. “None of us live forever” is something my father said to me when he was in the hospital and knew his end was in sight. I know that he meant it in a comforting way even though it was a matter-of-fact statement. He was ok with what the future held in store for him; and although he wasn’t an overtly religious man, he believed in God and prayed for us, his four sons, to be good men and to take care of our mother, our families, and each other. That was his gift to us.

As I walk in the woods, I pray for my kids and grandkids, too, and give thanks for my parents and grandparents, and my wife’s parents and grandparents, and all of the family members and memories that they spawned. And I thank God for love and life, and this divine milieu that I get to experience by walking out my back door, wandering but not lost.

Library Chronicles

Library Chronicles

By Leo Racicot

What’s your most prized possession? For me, it’s my library card.

Ever since the afternoon Sister Margaret Paul, our fourth grade teacher. walked our class down to Pollard Memorial Library, down the stairs to the Children’s Room and I discovered my delight in getting my very first library card, I’ve been hooked on libraries. A library card is a passport to worlds, a ticket to all there is to know, all you could ever wish to know.

I even remember the first book I took out. It was Conrad Richter’s Light in the Forest. I was attracted to its cover. I forget the details of the book I read last week but to this day, I remember the plot of Light in the Forest and have retained a fondness for it all these years later. Its story, set against the background of The American Revolutionary War, about a white boy kidnapped by a Native American tribe and raised to be one of them. has stayed with me, its theme about an individual caught between two worlds resonated strongly with me.

I’ve always loved to read and for twenty years whenever I worked with students, it was in the capacity of an English reading tutor/teacher. At both Saint Patrick’s School in the 1970s and Franco American School in the 1980s, I put together and taught Advanced Reading groups. At Saint Patrick’s, I loved our meeting place, a small space in the school basement next to the hall stage. At Franco, our classroom was wedged between the first and second floors, a private oasis of learning. I remember I decorated the walls with photos of authors of every kind, which the children loved and to which they’d contribute photos of their own favorite writers.  But I wasn’t cut out for teaching; for one thing, like my mother, I didn’t have a strict bone in my body. In frustrating attempts at maintaining classroom discipline, I was forever saying, “Sit!  Down!”. Not fun.  I don’t remember having a job I could say I actually loved, in fact, until I began working at O’Leary Library at what was then the University of Lowell, in 1985. libraries, which I’d always spent most of my free time in anyway, utterly seduced me and I was to spend seventeen years of my working life in them. Mornings I literally couldn’t wait to get to work.     When I moved to Cambridge in ’97, to accept a position as a private home caregiver/companion to an autistic man and his elderly mother, I found my part-time work there (weekends, Thursdays through Sundays) challenging but not sufficiently so; needing more to occupy my time, I applied to Cambridge Public Libraries, hoping my work for ULowell Libraries would give me an easy “in”. Not so. The CPL administration took a long time to hire me; they wondered why, after years of working for a university library, I’d want to work for a public library system. Later, I learned they thought I was some rich guy who wanted to go “slumming”, didn’t think I was serious about wanting to work for them. I’d also tried, unsuccessfully, to get a job with Harvard’s many libraries, most of which were a stone’s throw from where I now lived. But I’m not a typist, still type with two fingers and could never get an interview; Harvard won’t look at you unless you can type like lightning. I’d always wanted to see the magnificent Widener Library stacks but they were harder to enter than Pluto’s Gate if you weren’t Harvard-affiliated. I was about to give up on Cambridge Libraries when, after what seemed an eternity, they finally called to say “yes” to my application.      CPL consists of seven libraries, a main library and six branch libraries spread throughout the city. I began my career there as a “floater”; whenever a regular staff person at any of the seven libraries was absent, on sick leave, sabbatical, or on vacation, I’d be sent in to cover their hours. To say my time as a floater for Cambridge Public Libraries was sheer delight is to miss the mark. I took buses and subways to go to work and it was an absolute joy riding to each of the different branch libraries, seeing and exploring the different neighborhoods each was located in. My favorite branch was Boudreau Library, nestled cozily in the Concord/Huron Avenue area. The late Linda Haines was Branch Head at the time. She was smart-as-a-whip, funny, quick, savvy with a heart of gold. Patrons still mention her Children’s Storytime Hour which was so popular, the kids and their mothers packed the small space such that oftentimes, we workers had to climb over them to get to our stations. I liked Linda a lot. It was Fall of the year when I began as a floater and I looked forward to riding the bus down Concord Ave, pretty as a picture with its big, old trees and colorful leaves. Poor Linda died young after a long battle with cancer. She made Boudreau a vibrant part of that community.

Boudreau wasn’t the smallest of the branches; that honor went to hobbit-sized Collins Branch. I’m a fairly big guy and just making my way around Collins to shelve and such was a challenge. Branch Head, Elaine Cory, kept a tidy ship. The Valente Branch, located in the Wellington-Harrington section of Cambridge, had more of an inner-city vibe. Eleanor Rose, a staffer, had a habit of screaming at patrons, co-workers and her boss one second then in the next second, remorseful, would suddenly throw her arms around us wailing, “Oh, honey, I’m so so so sorry I hollered at you.”  The more sensible Anna Morais, who’d hailed from the Azores, would tell me to “pay no mind to that one; she’s nuttier than two fruitcakes.”

Central Square Library could have been used for a movie if the scene required a high-security prison. Built in the ugly Brutalist style so prevalent in the 1970s (Boston City Hall is an example of the Brutalist style), its exterior had a forbidding look to it, esp. on bad weather days. I met the wonderfully eccentric Shushie Pahigian there and Kevin Lucey who’s still a good friend. Husband-wife team, Tom and Lynn Brown were so funny, so interesting to be around. Lynn made me laugh all the time and made my work burdens light by cheerfully pitching in. I miss them.  Life at CSQ was always an adventure. It had the most eccentric patrons (i.e. some genuine characters). Located in the heart of what was then one of the city’s most dangerous neighborhoods, it wasn’t uncommon to find a patron in the rest rooms who’d overdosed. or an overly ardent couple who’d decided the bathroom was the best place for them to express their ardor. We staffers saw some things!   O’Connell Library was helmed by a woman named Yan Qu. Yan worked hard to make her branch a mainstay of that area. But she had a habit of going out to lunch and coming back three hours later, or not at all, leaving my co-worker, Dale Howard, and myself to run the show. Sink, or swim. Maybe she was training us to deal with any kind of situations that might arise.  I did like working there. I liked all the branches, and especially Main. Had I known my stints there were being noticed by the higher-ups, I wouldn’t have worked so diligently because — in what seemed like no time, they promoted me to a permanent part- and then full-time worker. No more “floating”, which I’d loved and would come to miss. As a floater, I got to meet and know all of the 80 plus staffers who made up the CPL troops, which was nice. Working at Main, I met some wonderful, interesting people, the most memorable of whom was Priscilla Beck aka IM. Librarians, I discovered are not the benign, book nerdish folks I imagined; their personalities and pasts contain intrigue, adventure and misadventure. Take Priscilla; she’d attended Mount Holyoke College then travelled with her cats to Barcelona where she found herself living in the midst of the Franco regime. Later, her travels took her to Oregon and Baltimore where she continued her work in libraries. In 1988, on my way to see/hear writer Jan Morris speak at Cambridge Library, I stopped this lady on the street and asked if she knew where the library was. She said, “Do I?!! I work there!” and bid me follow her. That was the time Jan Morris said to me, “What joy it brought me looking out in the audience, seeing your beautifully androgynous face!”   Not sure I wanted to hear that or if that’s something one stranger should say to another. When I got home, I spent hours in the mirror trying to discern what had caused Jan Morris to make that estimation of me.  Anyway…years later, now co-workers at Main, Priscilla turned to me one moment out-of-the-blue and announced, with glee, “The witch-hazel is in bloom!”. I thought, “What an eccentric way to break the ice. We became instant chums and are chums to this day. Encroaching age prevents us from getting together as often as we used to, to visit museums, attend concerts, dine out. I haven’t seen her dear, dear face since 2019 but we still email each other every day or so and she has been my rock in times of upset, which have been many.  Oh, let me tell you how she came to be nicknamed IM (which stands for Irreverent Mother). Priscilla always dresses conservatively, always neat-as-a-pin, which led one of the co-worker cut-ups to tease her about being an undercover nun. He was pretty irreverent himself and used to refer to her sensible shoes as “nun shoes” and would add, “In the convent, such footwear is known as ‘anti-rape shoes’ and liked to greet Priscilla with, “Well, if it isn’t Reverend Mother!’  One day, I chimed in with, “More like Irreverent Mother!” and the abbreviation, IM, stuck. And you thought library workers were stodgy stick-in-the-muds. More like dodgy rabble rousers from what I’ve observed, and I’m always gobsmacked by the depth and breadth of their knowledge, always astonishing.

Today, libraries aren’t what they once were; gone are the card catalogs, the microfilm and microfiche machines. Library work involves knowing computers inside-and-out.I know more than one librarian who’s sighed, “I’m little more than a human Google. I, myself, continue to spend a great deal of my life in them, reveling in their offerings, and am especially fond of the Interlibrary Loan services. I.L.L. Departments have procured rare texts, long out-of-print films and other items for me. I always get a kick out of it when these treasures come to Lowell from places as far-and-wide as Argentina and Japan. No matter where a rarity is, you can be sure an Interlibrary Loan Librarian will find it for you. Friends and relatives tease me that libraries are my home away from home. I’ve yet to find one I didn’t like, no matter how big or how small. In Norton, where I lived for a time, the Norton Public Library was so tiny, there wasn’t much room for more than a couple of patrons and staff at a time. Its chief was the eccentric Mitch Perlow, Mitch always wore black head-to-toe every day of the year leading townsfolk to nickname the library, “Basic Black and Perlow”. While in the area, I also did some archive work at the beautiful Wheaton College Library. Which memory makes me think of the time I was at a luncheon gathering at M.F.K. Fisher’s. Conversation turned to what each of us did for a living. When it came my turn, I said, “I work in a library.”  One guest, the Anglo-Irish journalist, Elgy Gillespie, gasped, “So — you’re an ah-sha-vist!”. I had no idea what she’d said, Mary Frances, noting my confusion, said to me, “She thinks you’re an archivist, dear.”  I blurted out, “Oh, God no!. I just check out and shelve books” (which wasn’t exactly true either) but we all had a good laugh.

I think of libraries, any library, as a Sanctum Sanctorum of Civility and Decorum. I honestly don’t know how I would have gotten through Life without them. Then again, I run into people who tell me they’ve never set foot in one in their life, ever. The poor fools…

Libraries mesmerize me. Whenever I travel, my first point of order is to find the local library. I love capering in them, discovering what the special treasures of each are. For. no library is like another. Each bestows upon the visitor its own particular magic. My favorite library of all time remains Dracut’s Moses Greeley Parker Library. I spent countless hours there feeding my research and reading needs. The staff is among the best I’ve encountered and the spirit of the place always cheers me the second I walk in the door.

___________________

Pollard Memorial Library card of the author

Author at Wheaton College Library, 1992

Boudreau Library, Cambridge

Cambridge Public Library

Collins Branch Library in Cambridge

Elgy Gillispie

“I always wanted to be on a Read poster.” (Author)

The Light in the Forest book cover

MBTA Huron Avenue bus

Moses Greeley Parker Library in Dracut

O’Leary Library at UMass Lowell

Seen & Heard: Vol. 1

Welcome to Seen and Heard, a new feature on richardhowe.com. 

As regular readers know, I spend most of my time here digging into local history and dissecting the politics of Lowell. However, like everyone else, I spend the rest of my week absorbing a wide range of other media—from books and newsletters to podcasts, films, and sporting events. Starting today, I’ll dedicate one post each week to cataloging the most interesting things I’ve consumed over the previous seven days. 

Film – Jay Kelly: On New Year’s Day, I watched the 2025 film, Jay Kelly, on Netflix. For many years, going to the movies on New Year’s Day was a family tradition, but Covid interrupted that so now we watch a movie that streams into our family room. Jay Kelly stars George Clooney, Adam Sandler, and a top-notch cast of familiar faces. It’s the story of a famous movie actor (Clooney) and his devoted manager (Sandler) who impulsively embark on a trip through Europe. Along the way they painfully come to grips with choices they have made through life and the impact those choices have had on themselves and their loved-ones. While there are comedic moments, this is mostly a well-done, thought-provoking drama. Rotten Tomatoes gives it a 77% rating. 

Film – Cover Up: This is a 2025 documentary about Seymour Hersh, the Pulitzer Prize winning journalist who broke the news of the massacre at My Lai, Vietnam. In 2004 while writing for the New Yorker, Hersh was the first to publish photos of American soldiers torturing Iraqi prisoners at Abu Ghraib during the occupation of Iraq. (Hersh later wrote a book about this, Chain of Command: The Road from 9/11 to Abu Ghraib and gave a book talk at the UMass Lowell Inn & Conference Center.) For anyone interested in the history of American Foreign Policy in the post World War II era, this documentary, also on Netflix, is must-see TV. It is equally divided among Hersh’s background and upbringing; his methods of conducting investigative journalism; the My Lai story; and the Abu Ghriad story. The film shares substantial contemporary video about My Lai that is just stunning and deeply disturbing, not least because much of what was said in defense of the US action there is like a script of the rhetoric from Washington today. Rotten Tomatoes gives Cover Up a 100% rating. 

Newsletter – Heather Cox Richardson – When I launched my own newsletter on the Substack platform three years ago, I partly modeled it on “Letters from an American,” a newsletter on that platform written by Heather Cox Richardson, a history professor at Boston College. Hitting your inbox sometime before 4am each day, “Letters” summarizes the biggest news in U.S. politics with an explanation of why these events matter by connecting them to American history. The newsletter is free, although she welcomes fee-based subscriptions. I subscribe to many other newsletters on Substack and will mention many of them in the coming weeks, but my first-read-of-the-day is always Richardson. 

Newspaper – Boston Sunday Globe Sports: I enjoy sports exclusively as a spectator these days. For many years my preference has been to read about a sporting event afterwards rather than watch it live (although I’ll do that, too). In this context, the highlight of my week is the Sunday sports section of the Globe. Going back to the days of Bob Ryan, Peter Gammons, Will McDonough, and others, I’ve long consumed sports coverage from the Globe. Ryan still writes occasionally and the “old timer” is Dan Shaughnessy, who usually has a column on Sunday which begins, “Picked-up pieces while . . .” and then meanders through a dozen or so items from pro sports in Boston with an occasional foray into some unique and local college or amateur athletic event. Also high on my list are the Sunday Notes columns on the four major men’s sports: Kevin Paul Dupont on Hockey; Gary Washburn on Basketball; Peter Abraham on Baseball; and Ben Volin on Football. Earlier versions of these Sunday features, especially the basketball notes when being written by Bob Ryan, also influenced how I compose my Sunday newsletters even though they are about Lowell politics rather than sports. 

Podcast – On with Kara Swisher – I listen to podcasts each morning while exercising and also on long car rides. On with Kara Swisher is one of my favorites. Swisher is a longtime tech journalist who is often blunt in her remarks and in her interviews. This week, her guest was Isaac Chotiner of the New Yorker. I don’t specifically remember reading anything by Chotiner but I likely have. His beat is the “Q&A” interview series. It sounds like he has a reputation as a tough questioner. In this podcast episode, Swisher and Chotiner compared notes on how they prepare for interviews, what they hope to accomplish, and how they handle it when their subject turns uncooperative. 

That’s it for this week. Thanks for reading. Please check back next week for the latest installment of Seen & Heard. 

Lowell’s 1st Centennial Council Meeting

Lowell’s 1st Centennial Year City Council Meeting – (PIP #91)

By Louise Peloquin

     Lowell’s city agent jobs have evolved with time. Some remain and others have disappeared.

L’Etoile – Front page January 4, 1926

INAUGURATION OF THE COUNCIL

GALLAGHER IS ELECTED PRESIDENT

The present City Council president re-elected after nine rounds of voting against McPadden and Thomas – The Mayor, whitewashes his administration – The majority of the nominations are approved – Donnelly remains on the table.

__________

MANY PROMINENT CIVIL SERVANTS AT THE INAUGURATION

_________

     The inauguration of the City Council took place this morning in the presence of a large crowd which included several former mayors, department heads and a considerable number of well-known Lowellians.

     The room was full to capacity and several hundred people, unable to enter,  stood in the corridor during the City Council meeting which lasted for more than three hours.

     Among the city officials and other prominent people, we noted Patrick O’Hearn president of the Planning Board; Fisher H. Pearson, ex-member of the Bureau of Hygiene; Dennis J. Murphy, president of the Public Service Commission; William Arnold, State Public Welfare Service superintendent; Hugh J. Molloy, superintendent of schools; assessors James E. Donnelly, John H. Dyer and Wilfrid J. Achin; deputy Cornelius J. O’Neil; prosecutor Patrick J. Reynolds; James Reynolds, aqueduct superintendent; Dr. Forster Smith, superintendent of the hospital for tuberculosis patients; E. Gaston Campbell, president of the Lowell Real Estate Exchange; Daniel O’Brien; Dr. Richard O’Connor; John Reagan, president of the Plumbers Association; Daniel T. Moriarty, deputy of the Legislature; Dominick Molloy, member of the electoral commission; auditor Daniel E. Martin; Harry Doherty, road superintendent and many others.

     Long before the ceremonies opened, the following Public Security members arrived at City Hall to represent their department and to maintain order: Lieutenant Martin Connors, officers William A. Frey, Fred McNulty and John J. Leahy. The fire brigade was represented by Thomas Burke, James Nelligan and Joseph Sheehey.

     At 10:19, messenger Owen Monahan announced that everything was ready for the ceremony. The procession immediately commenced with Hugh Downey from Public Security; chief Edward F. Saunders of the fire brigade, Lieutenant Martin Connors of Public Security; Mayor John. J. Donavan and ten councillors.

     The new councillors were sworn in by Clerk Stephen Flynn then Mayor Donovan read his message to the Council and to the public.

     The mayor began by stating that the elected were not chosen to satisfy themselves but to serve the public in a worthy manner. He asked the council for its complete  cooperation and said that he would do everything possible to carry out his tasks during his term of office.

     The mayor said that the year which had ended was marked by an upheaval and considerable disorder in city affairs. Little was said about the good which was accomplished by the municipality but the errors committed were covered by newspapers all over the United States. He pursued by saying that the conditions of our city are hardly worse than they were before. However, in the eyes of the public, and especially in the eyes of strangers, they seem to be pitiful. In general, a merchant runs his business as he pleases and if he makes a mistake he alone is responsible. If a city servant makes a mistake, he is accountable to the people he represents. Sometimes he unknowingly commits errors and, as a result, he is brought to court to respond to serious accusations. “I fear nothing from the result of the accusations made against me. I simply ask the public to be just in its decisions” he added.

     In his message, the mayor recommended the nomination of a special committee to study the question of opening a municipal garage in the city.

     He also recommended the nomination of a committee to study the question of replacing the present police staton by a more modern building.

     Regarding the Public Welfare bureau, the mayor said that this department had often been criticized and even accused of all sorts of things but he recommended that city officials visit this institution in order to see for themselves what this department needs. He added that last year the Council voted to appropriate $5000 to create a camp for sick children. This camp should open this year.  

     In his message, the mayor congratulated the Public Service commission which had done a great deal of good in the city.

     When the mayor’s message ended, the meeting was adjourned for ten minutes.

CITY COUNCIL MEETING

     The first official City Council meeting for 1926 was called to order at 11:10. The first motion made was that of Councilor John J. McPadden who asked for a ten-minute adjournment but his motion was lost.

     The councilors were then called to elect the president for 1926. At the first round of voting, Councilor James J. Gallagher received the support of Councilors Bailey, Chrétien, Cleary, Cosgrove, Gallagher, Genest, Montminy, and Preston, a total of 8 votes. Councilors Campbell, Rubin, Kiggins, McLean and McPadden voted for Mr. Mr. McPadden, a total of 5 votes. Councilor Robert R. Thomas received 4 votes, those of Mr. Haggerty, Mr. Inglis, Mr. O’Brien and his own.

     A second round of voting had the same results.

     At this point, Councilor Chrétien asked for a ten-minute adjournment which was approved by the Council.

          Many councilors participated in a long discussion about city servants who had recently been indicted by the Middlesex County grand jury.

     Councilor Cleary made a motion to abolish the posts of superintendent of the Chelmsford Street hospital and of city physician. He suggested that the latter be left to a competent physician at a salary of $4000.

     It was voted to leave this ordinance on the table.

     The nominations of Fred H. Rourke to the post of city treasurer for a two-year term was unanimously approved.

     The Council also voted favorably on the nomination of Dr. Francis R. Mahoney as member of the Bureau of Hygiene for a three-year term.

     The Mayor submitted the nomination of Dominick F. Molloy to the post of superintendent of the Chelmsford Street hospital for a two-year term.  All of the councilors, with the exception of councilor Clery, voted in favor.

     The nomination of Wilfred J. Sachin to the post of assessor for a three-year term was unanimously approved. 

     Charles L. Gallagher, electric wiring inspector, was unanimously elected for a two-year term.

     Charles Riley was named and elected fire inspector for a two-year term.

     John B. Kenefick was named and elected fishing and hunting warden for two years.,

     William A. Arnold was named and elected State Welfare superintendent for a three-year term.

     John J. Gordon was named and elected superintendent of the caterpillar extermination department. This nomination is subject to the approval of the Civil Service.

     Edward F. Saunders was named forest ranger for one year. 

     The nomination of Dr. W. A. Sherman to the post of livestock inspector was unanimously approved. (1)

 ****

1) Translation by Louise Peloquin.