The Unhappy Chiropractor

As a man already dedicated to a lifetime of playing Dixie on the human spine, slim, soft-spoken Victor Meyers gave little thought to worldly matters during 1921; at that point he was about to graduate from the Riley School of Chiropractic in Washington, D.C., and to go forth seeking his first sacroiliac. Consequently, when a fraternity brother named Bert offered to wise him up, he listened appreciatively. "You ought to move to Virginia," said Bert. "They don't pay any federal taxes over there. You only have to pay 'em if you live in the District or work for the Government."

The new doc followed Bert's advice. He opened an office in Washington, but when he got married he bought a house across the Potomac in Arlington County. He paid Virginia state income taxes, and, in fact, eventually became a good friend of the state tax collector. When one of his daughters grew up and began filing federal income tax returns, he helped her fill them out. But for 30 years, Chiropractor Meyers never paid a cent of federal income tax himself. Bert's misinformation had "cocooned" in his mind.

At least, that is what the doc said when an income-tax agent dropped into his office a few months ago, and interrupted his three decades of bliss by asking to see his income-tax returns for 1948, '49 and '50.

"Certainly," the doc said, reaching for a drawer full of state income-tax forms.

"I don't mean those," the agent said. "I mean federal tax returns."

"Oh, I don't have to pay federal taxes," said Meyers smugly. "I live in Virginia."

"People in Virginia have to pay federal income taxes too," the agent assured him. For a dreadful moment it was so quiet in the office that you could hear a tendon snap. "You're kidding," gasped the doc. But everyone thought the doc was kidding. Last week in federal court, even his own lawyer suggested that his story was "fantastic." The judge cried "Preposterous!" and fined him $5,000.

Even worse, the Bureau of Internal Revenue asked the doc for back taxes. The T-men calculated that he owed them $22,000. At week's end, the doc was still protesting that he had committed no fraud. "I think the Government is partly to blame . . ." he cried. "Why did they let me go on like this for 30 years, anyway?"

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