The New York Central tracks go through Clayton, Mich. (pop. 467), but there is no station, and the trains seldom stop. U.S. Highway 223 bypasses Clayton, and except for nearby farmers, few people stop there, either. It is a poor little place: half a dozen old red brick buildings, two gasoline stations, a few blocks of houses, a few sheds. Clayton is a dull, insular village, not friendly to outsiders.
Last July one Floyd McFall and his wife Sylvia used their savings to open a little restaurant and soda fountain between the post office and the bank. They were ignored;...
To continue reading:
or
Log-In
