When I edited a newspaper in Alabama farm country, I acquired agricultural expertise.

A Yankee traveler called one afternoon and said she had heard of the crops in our part of the country, but she could not find the peanut vines.

Taking pity, I said, "Darlin', grapes grow on vines. Peanuts grow on trees.

"If you want a nut on vines, try the pecan. But you are in luck. One efficiency of our Alabama farms is that we plant two crops together and get twice the nuts on the same acreage.

"That concept — twice the nuts — is under consideration as the new state motto. We expect to beat Georgia and Florida to the punch.

"It is in the hands of the Alabama Legislature, as slick an assemblage of insurance agents and lawyers as can be purchased in the nation.

"Along the roadsides, look for the pecan vines crawling up the peanut trees. Watch out for snakes and senators."

She hung up, newly enlightened.

I meant to tell her about the squash palm, a cousin of the coconut, under development through a federal grant. We hoped to up the ante in the motto wars — thrice the nuts on the same acreage — and trump even Tennessee.

A commotion stirred the newsroom. Into the office came a farmer — green cap on his head, shotgun in his hand and homicide in his eyes.

This required an editor's people skills. I opened a desk drawer and put a pistol on the desk.

Flustered, the newsroom secretary stuck in her head, "Mr. Barron to see you."

"Sit down, Mr. Barron."

"Stand up, you miserable skunk."

"Your personification of the skunk, Mr. Barron, reflects an error of reasoning. Further, you have a deer embroidered on your cap and it is spelled Deere, another error. Do you care to explain that?"

He slapped an editorial on the desk. "Explain this!"

Yellow slashes and red asterisks marked the morning's editorial.

"Did you write that?"

"After much research and reflection."

"Reflection?"

He grabbed the paper and began to read: "Alabama farmers want taxpayers' money to pay for their losses from the drought. We propose otherwise.

"If a failure has occurred among farmers who grow corn, we suggest they seek relief not from taxpayers, but from fellow farmers who get federal money not to grow corn.

"Further, we object to the guaranteed crop price, in which farmers get above-market payments at the expense of electricians.

"We object to discounted land loans at the expense of plumbers.

"One-third of Americans have no savings. They have less than $500 in the bank. By what right do farmers demand that widows and orphans and pensioners and students — in short, all of us — owe them a living?

"Farm subsidies, a rotting relic of the fiendish FDR, have created a permanent welfare class among formerly hard-working folk."

He paused, eyes narrowed, "My daddy was an FDR man."

He continued reading:

"The average price of the average farm exceeds $1 million. We recommend that our Carhartt millionaires sell their farms, retire to the seashore and let new blood invigorate the land. Progressive farmers might plant the promising squash palm, a noble bush that elevates the senses of the citizenry by permeating hill and dale with the blissful aroma of nut blossoms."

He threw the paper on the desk. I eased my hand toward the pistol.

He snarled, "Squash palm?"

I replied, "In size, color and tenderness, its nut has no equal. An editorial needs a note of hope."

Then began the gun battle and an exodus of the newsroom staff. I believe I winged him before I leapt out the office window.

Phil Lucas is executive editor of The News Herald in Panama City, Fla. Contact him at [email protected]. To find out more about Lucas and read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit the Creators Syndicate website at www.creators.com.