The Publisher's Page BY HAROLD T. BECK

AUGUST 12 - AUGUST 18, 2000

AUGUST 18, 2K

Will it ever end?

Good morning. It is 54.9 degrees at 6:18 A.M. Jack the Bear just passed through my yard on his way back from the Rainbow's dumpster and his morning snack. Slim pickins' over there. It was emptied Wednesday and it won't be until tonight that he gets the scraps from the Prime Rib and Friday Fish Fry.

Once more I have been up a good part of the night. Red Jacket took the old red eye back to Bradford Regional International Airport and caught a limo over to my house. He had another story to post about a former Bradford Error reporter and his racist connections and inclinations. I refused to post the story. I told him I needed time until I could verify what he had written. If it checks out I will break the story on Monday.

 But it didn't end with that. No. It certainly didn't.

After a day of hard manual labor, all I wanted to do was to sleep. He understood about checking out his sources and getting verification. He understood that very well. But he wasn't through with me. He had other issues.

"You have your picture on the front page of the website and you have your picture on the top of the column that I write for. You also have a picture of the girl who is missing. You have put pictures of you with your grandson, Sam. You have even put in pictures of your daughter and her friend Amy when they went to Las Vegas. You even have Cornplanter's picture posted and he doesn't even write for you.When do I get my picture in the column?"

That came on the heels of him handing in his expenses for his trip to Montana that included First Class round trip airfare, a limo to the airport, a limo while he was in Montana, and a limo that was still waiting for him in my driveway. 

When I questioned the limo, he blankly told me: "At two hundred and fifty-six years of age, who is going to issue me a driver's license?"

I have long since stopped trying to go against anything the old man says. I can't win with him. It was kind of like being County Commissioner. It is just like beating your head against a stone wall. The forces will do what they will do and no matter what I said or did, not much changed. And that is the case when you deal with Red Jacket.

"When would you like your picture in the column?" I asked. "I can go get my new Sony digital camera and take a picture of you right now. You look very spiffy in your three piece gray pin strip suit and homburg hat."

"Thank you," Red Jacket said. "But I don't want my readers to see me like that. I prefer they think of me as the Indian Chief I used to be, not the writer that I am now. Even though I am out there being their eyes and ears, I have an image to keep up. And those stories you wrote about me trapping skunks last year hurt me."

"They were true,"  I said.

"I know they were true," he admitted. "The whole thing go blown out of proportion. You literally let the cat out of the bag. The women at the Senior Center thought I was a naturally vital man. Then you wrote that story and they all knew the secret to my male prowess."

"Skunk liver," I said.

"Yes," he said. "Do you know what happened after that story was published?"

"No," I said.

"The other men at the Senior Center all started trapping skunks, too. You have no idea what you did to me. There is a skunk shortage now. I am just about out of essence of skunk liver. I used most of what I had on this eighty seven year old I met out in Helena. I am going to have to lay down my pen and lap top for awhile and replenish my supply."

"Fine," I said understanding how important skunk liver was to him. "Just don't bring any of them here. Sharyn complained for weeks about the smell that lingered after you left. It might not bother you, but it does bother my wife."

He agreed and handed me a picture of him.

"This is the one I want in the column. Will it be in today's?" he asked.

"Sure," I said. "Why not?" 

And here it is.

Chief Red Jacket     Mountain Laurel Review Staff Writer

Your comments are welcome at editor@mlrmag.com. 

AUGUST 17, 2K

Say it ain't so, again!

Good morning. It is 52.1 degrees at 6:17 A.M. The mail is wonderful. 

Thank you to all the people who explain to me what Red Jacket is talking about. I haven't been around 256 years to know these kind of things, but it is interesting to see that nothing really changes in the way things are handled, and that is why we continually lose ground instead of moving forward.

One person wanted to know why we would bring up negative things and poke fun at them using a dead Indian Chief. Don't tell Red Jacket he is dead. Heavens no!

But there is a point there. Negativity is a bad thing. And if you look around there certainly are a whole lot of negatives. Have you asked yourselves why?

For a period of time, McKean County had a rebirth. The budget was balanced and taxes finally became equalized with people being taxed on what their property was really worth. As that happened new construction began. Three new houses were built right down the road from me - and that hadn't happened since the seventies. Even going into last year's election that feeling of wellness existed. If it wasn't all well, people at least believed it. They don't anymore.

What little news that does come out of Smethport is carefully managed. It is because there is no longer someone over there who will tell the truth even if it is bad. No. It is the perception of an image but the only problem is the people know the difference. That is why the feeling of wellness is over and new construction has stopped. Even a County Commissioner opposes new business locating here in McKean County while another is sound asleep.

It's become quite a joke and the joke is on us.

As much as the Error attempts to soften the blow, county taxes are now fast becoming much like school taxes. In no time at all we will be at the 25 mil legal limit. And when that happens, the disparity in tax assessment will begin to set in. Then another expensive tax reassessment will be necessary.

We had an opportunity and we blew it. We blew it because no one wanted to look beyond the next moment and refused to look down the road. Last December was the time to cut county spending but instead the burden on the taxpayers was increased. The more you increase spending, the more they spend. They are a government! What would you expect?

And there were the commissioners refusing to set the example and take no pay raise, or the pay cut I proposed for all elected officials. They expected us to pay for their raises so they could pay the increased taxes while the people they allegedly serve got little on their jobs, if they got anything at all.

Where is the audit of 1999?

In past years it was completed and in the hands of the commissioners by the end of June. Taxpayers are now being told that it is not done. Why? Is it they don't want the truth to come out? Is it because all through 1999 I was saying that something was wrong and spending had to be controlled but because it was an election year Stratton and Weaver didn't want to take any action? Why are they hiding the facts of what they did? 

One of our readers sent me something interesting. This in itself tells the story.

Hey, Bud,

I am at my daughter's dog sitting and I was surfing around. Since she doesn't have you bookmarked yet, I had to surf to get the page. When I entered MLRmag.com, this is what came up. De ja vu? Thought you would get a kick out of the fact that not much has changed in two years!!!! Same problems, same names!

***********************************************************

NOVEMBER 20, 1998

Johnny! Say it ain't so

This is November? It is 41.9 degrees at 5:25 AM in Marshburg, PA. Usually by this time we have had at least one snowfall measuring six inches or more. All we have had is a slight dusting and a few flurries. Who's complaining?

More people than really care to admit it read this web site for the daily editorial. They do because I always say what is on my mind. Within thirty days, the editorial will be in a printed version and available for the rest of the public, who, are either not so fortunate, or perhaps much smarter than we who are tied to these modern marvels called computers.

Jim Buck of The Bradford Era was calling around two evenings ago looking for an explanation as to how McKean County's projected tax revenue dropped from $3.75 million to $3.4 million. Jim asked Mr. Weaver and Mr. Stratton, but didn't ask me. I had the answer because I have been working on the 1999 budget since early September. My reference to it sparked Jim's imagination. That's good and I am not being sarcastic either, Jim. It is good! Here's the scoop.

We just completed another round of tax hearings. We heard eight hundred and twenty-seven appeals. I kept tabs on the results. In 124 cases we left the fair market value as it was. In the remaining 703 cases, we lowered the fair market value of the property that was appealed.

We lowered taxes!

Actually, in doing the reassessment, we lowered taxes for 19,768 property owners; left taxes the same for approximately 9,900 property owners, and raised taxes on 4,900 property owners. Keep in mind that when I use the word taxes, I use it in the sense of taxes being equal to what they were paying before the reassessment and do not take into consideration increases passed on by the School Districts.

Using 12.6 mills of taxation, Jim, and multiplying it out against the assessed valuation we approved on November 13, we arrive at an estimated tax income in the area of $3.4 million. That is good news for the tax payers and it is bad news for the keepers of bureaucratic empires. I refer specifically to Judge John M. Cleland.

Possibly (and probably) in response to my editorial of November 18th, Fiscal Responsibility, the judge fired off a letter to Commissioner Larry Stratton. He begins by saying:

"Although the Court budget has been submitted, I want to bring to you attention a couple of factors which may come to bear on that budget as it is implemented next year. There are several contingencies which have come to light since the budget was submitted. While I cannot be certain what will occur next year, if any of these do occur there could be financial consequences which I am not able to define at this point."

What does that sound like to you?

It sounds like shadows of things to come - The ghosts of Christmas past, present and future all rolled into one. It sounds to me like John is saying that no matter what we adopt, it isn't going to be enough.

Imagine that! In an election year, too.

Still smarting over the comment that he can't buy a pencil without a purchase order, he takes a recent conversation with Fran Kuhn, Director of Children and Youth Services, and begins rattling the chains with dire forecasts of gloom, doom, and financial despair for the County budgetary process. He points to juvenile petitions - you know, when kids set off fire crackers and the District Attorney calls them terrorists because she needs to win a case every now and then.

Your comments are welcome at editor@mlrmag.com. 

AUGUST 16, 2K

Red Jacket on the loose

Good morning. It is 60.4 degrees at 6:01 A.M. My phone rang at 12:09 this morning. But I'll get to that in a minute.

To my friend "Annie" - of course I meant Michael Cordeleone. Who else would I mean. And for the horse head, LOL! 

The phone and the e-mails never stopped yesterday. I appreciate the thoughts, but forget it. I will remind you of what I said, but that is it. 

I enjoy doing what I am these days. I worked on my computer for about six hours yesterday, and then I cut grass. I got a lot of sun. I love the sun. I have a whole lot of work to get done before winter comes. And think about it. August 16th! This month is now half over. Football starts the regular season in two weeks and we are probably 60 days away from the first snow flakes and 75 away from the first snow fall of three inches or more.

As for the Slocum thing - the Republicans, all of them, are a pile of rats who backed him when they thought they could get by with the Attorney General turning his back on Slocum's crimes. At that time, when they knew full well what had happened, they brushed it under the rug. What was right did not matter to them. It never does. It is only what they believe is right for the party.

Think about it. Who spoke out against Slocum from the beginning? Who called him "Sludge King" to his face? And think about the people who ushered him around and had him do their bidding as a puppet. Out of all the Republicans, only Jim Lynch was vocal and denounced Slocum besides me. 

Now we have them all. All the rats have left him and Slocum stands alone. I am going to have to rethink this. If Slocum hold up under the pressure and stays in, I just might have to back him if he would come clean (pardon the pun) on what he actually did. After all, he has done his time.

Anyway, I had taken a relaxing dip in the pool. I floated around staring up at the stars for a half an hour sipping a CC and soda. I could see the lightning light up the sky miles away and you could sense the approaching storm even though it was still three hours away. It was just one of those wonderful times when the world is at peace with you and you are with the world. 

Even as I came in and went to bed and Ted Kennedy was speaking on television, I was still at peace. (If anyone ever belonged with that gang that has turned on Slocum, it's him!) I set the timer on the television so it would shut off in an hour and dosed off to sleep. Then the phone rang.

I looked at the clock. 12:09 A.M. Who was calling me at 12:09 A.M. ? Who in the world could this be?

"Hello?" I answered.

"Chief. Chief," the excited voice said on the other end of the line. "Turn on your fax machine. I have another story."

"Where are you?" I asked angrily. I recognized the voice immediately. It was Red Jacket.

"Montana," he said.

"What?" I couldn't believe my ears. 

"Montana!" I roared, waking Sharyn. That was a mistake. You don't ever wake Sharyn after she goes to sleep. Oh baby!

Red Jacket was rambling on about some guy named Elmer while Sharyn was demanding to know who in the world would call our house at 12:09 in the morning. 

"Who is hurt?" she asked. "Did someone die?"

"No one," I answered. "No. No one is dead. It is Red Jacket," I said, figuring the easiest way was to tell the truth. That proved to be a mistake.

"Bud," she demanded. "Is that a woman calling you at this hour of the morning?"

"No," I insisted. "It's Red Jacket."

"I don't think you are the least bit funny. You tell her not to call this house again or I will kill the two of you."

For the life of me I couldn't figure out where that came from. Another woman? "My God!" as Higgins would say. 

She slammed the bedroom door and began talking to herself as I went back to the old chief.

"What is this all about?" I demanded. 

"I got the story."

"What story?" I asked.

"The one I told you I was going to Montana for, Chief," he said.

"Don't call me Chief!" I roared.

"Keep it down out there," Sharyn yelled through the closed bedroom door. "Fight with your girlfriend some other time."

About that time I had enough but Red Jacket was still rambling on about some story and some poem and how I had better turn on the fax machine so he could post it for today's column. So I agreed and this is what he sent me.

Elmer’s Lament

Oh give me land, lots of land under starry skies above
Don’t fence me in
Let me leave, let me roam from this school that I don’t love
Don’t fence me in.

When I think, I must drink, to forget the hurt I’ve caused
Don’t hold me down
They all know that I goofed, didn’t listen to their cries
In Bradford town.

Powell and Clark, Tingley too, they were such a motley crew
I turned my head
Now I’m doomed to this life that still holds a lot of strife
I’ve made my bed.

My salary, you'll agree, was a massive crude insult
Your taxes raised.
Even though Bill did go I just wanted you to know
Someone should be praised.

Yes, my staff was a laugh, and they caused a lot of grief
As you all know,
But the one question still is it wasn’t only Bill
Who had to go.

Why not Dave? He’s been saved, throughout all these years gone by
He married too
Student bride, And he lied when they asked if there were more.
Yes, Dave, ‘twas you!

So, dear Dave, when you hire, think of what I have just said
You sure slid through
Turn you cheek, let them speak, so your days ahead aren’t bleak
It’s up to you.

Give me room, lots of room, to get on my horse and ride
Don’t fence me down
How I miss days like this and the doubletalk we did
In Bradford town.

I don't have the slightest idea what it means, but after all, I am paying for his expenses so I guess I had better use what he digs up.

And ironically, when Sharyn woke this morning, it was like nothing had happened.

"Good morning, honey," she said. "I had the strangest dream last night. I dreamt that you had a girlfriend and she called the house and the two of you were fighting over the phone and she was calling you Chief and you were telling her not to call you Chief and ..................................."

Oh well. Comments are welcome at editor@mlrmag.com. 

AUGUST 15, 2K

Unleashing a monster

Good morning. It has been a long night and it is 58.3 degrees at 6:23 A.M. I was up with Red Jacket again. Making him a reporter at large like Tom Clark has proven to be a massive pain. In the words of Michael Cordeleone, "Just when I thought I was out of it, they are trying to pull me back in!"

He burst on to my back porch last night near midnight. I was asleep in my chair and Rocky started barking.

"Chief! Chief!" he clamored at the door. "Chief. I have to talk to you. I have another story!"

Now the sight of him took me back, not to mention the exuberance and animation of the elderly man. I couldn't imagine what this was about, but he had definitely changed his appearance. No longer was he wearing his deer skins and feathers. Instead, he had donned a three piece suit and a black homburg hat. He had a pen behind his ear and was carrying a soft, zippered case with the zipper open, and it was overflowing with papers. He was a picture. Of what, I wasn't sure. But he was a picture just the same.

Slowly coming to my senses, I asked him what this was all about.

"The County Commissioners are going to raise taxes again," he said.

"So? What else is new?" I asked.

"I was at the Commissioners' meeting. I disguised myself so they would not recognize me and I just listened."

I laughed. "Did anyone make sense?" I asked. "Did Larry stay awake?"

"The people asking the questions made sense. They are going to raid the Capital Reserve Fund again to cover expenses."

"I believe that is illegal," I said. "And I believe they know it. Jay Paul Kahle told us when we borrowed that money in the form of a Bond Issue we could not use it for any other reason other than what we specified at that time. One of those reasons was not to make up for seasonal shortfalls when there is not enough money. They are allowed to borrow once a year. That is the tax anticipation loan. If they need money they are supposed to use that, not the Capital Reserve Fund. And the reason they don't is they won't have the money to pay that off at the end of the year. They are running at an enormous deficit."

"Well they are going to do it," he said.

"That doesn't surprise me," I said. I continued.

"I told them last year I wouldn't be a part of it. Neither of the other two understood why I was for it in years past, but not then. They believed and turned it around to make it sound like I was grandstanding to be re-elected. I wasn't. In the past we had legitimate expenses left over from the reassessment that we could claim. So when we could justify that we had paid those expenses out of the General Fund, then we could reimburse ourselves from the Capital Reserve Fund. What Larry and Jim did last year was not proper, and if they do it this year, that is not proper either."

"Al Pingie is for it too," he said.

I laughed again. "Can any of them read a financial statement and understand it? Larry can't. Jim doesn't care. And Al, now there is a tower of intelligence. I am sure he can."

"Do you really think he can?" Red Jacket asked.

"No!" I said back. "The only thing he understands is how to get his."

I continued. "Making the books balance is another story. That business about raising taxes is a lot of bunk. They are spending too much and I told them that last December in the public meetings. I told them then that the budget didn't balance and I pointed out then that they had overestimated the CYS budget by $600,000. And there were other areas they had done it too. In fact I believe they inflated their income by close to one million dollars just to make it look like they wouldn't have to raise taxes again. Everything I said should be on record. I told them that if they passed the budget as is they would be $650,000 short at the end of 2000. If they decreased the tax increase like they did, then they would be $1,150,000 short. At about $150,000 a mil, the county is looking at a 10 mil increase."

"See. I told you we had a story. They are claiming that CYS is the problem."

I laughed. "Some story. CYS is always the problem. The budget they passed in December wasn't right to begin with. They knew it going in and I told them that, too. I showed them where it was wrong and they made me out not to know what I was talking about. Everyone listened, but no one understood. They still don't. There's no story there."

"People care," Red Jacket said. "They were talking about calling you and getting you to help."

"Forget it," I said. "I'm out of it. I have my business to take care of these days and I like playing with Sam like I did this afternoon. Sam and I like to go to lunch together. I am not getting back into that garbage. I've lost 20 pounds and my blood pressure has never been this low. Not since I was thirty. I'm done. I'll be like everyone else and sit back and let them take us into bankruptcy while people like Larry Stratton get their tax breaks on our backs."

"But people care," Red Jacket said again. "They really do."

"Only a handful care and they will be made out to be kooks. That's why they keep the County Commissioners' meetings on Monday mornings and won't change them to the evenings like they promised during the election. If they had night meetings more people would become involved. Some one needs to sue them to make them live up to their campaign promises. Now that would be a story. Everyone would be surprised at the number of people who would get behind that."

"So what should I do, Chief?" he asked.

"Don't call me Chief!" I said.

"Okay, boss," he said. "What should I do?" 

"Go talk to the kooks and find out what they intend to do. The Error doesn't do that. Talk to the kooks. There's the story."

"Alright!" he said. "I'll do that right after I go to Montana and interview this guy Elmer as a follow up on yesterday's story."

"What?" I roared. Before I could get anymore information he was gone. 

I walked back to my computer talking to myself wondering who Elmer was and why he had to go to Montana. I was still talking to myself when I brought up the Error-on-line. Sure enough, there it was: 

Commissioners may have to hike taxes

By SANDRA RHODES/ Era Reporter

"At least the story is being written by someone who is good," I said to myself." Then I read on.

Your comments are welcome at editor@mlrmag.com. 

AUGUST 14, 2K

Red Jacket's first shot

Good morning. It is 59.4 degrees at 6:34 A.M. Tom Clark is on assignment and our readers agree with Red Jacket that he should be on the expense account too. And he didn't wait for me to give the official okay either. He went out and found original material for his first column. He was at my door around eleven last night.

"I'm back," he told me.

"From where?" I asked.

"Out doing research. And do I have a good one for you," he said.

I was skeptical. I listened with intent.

"Way back when there was a scandal at the high school. It turned out that some of the teachers were involved with students when they were traveling out of town."

"You mean the band director with members of the band," I said. "That was a long time ago."

"I know it was," he said. "But did you know that there has been a big resignation there now."

"Are you trying to say something funny is going on?" I asked.

"No. No. No," he said. "Nothing like that. I just found someone who writes poetry and wanted us to remember the first one because the school board and the superintendent went out of their ways to cover it up."

"Let me see it," I said.

He gave it to me and it read this way.

Poetry again :-)

In light of the four recent Music positions coming open in Bradford, I
thought that I would commemorate the event!

76 Trombones

76 Trombones led the big parade
With a handful of sex-crazed girls in the rear,
Director Bill, you know,
Was the second in a row;
Gave the band
A dirty little show.

He led the drum major to a darkened hall
Kissed her a million times on the lips
When his wife got the news
She was surely not amused
To the courts
She sang the cheater blues.

Old Elmer Myers he turned the other cheek
So did Fred Smith and all of his staff
No one would speak of it
If you did you’re full of S _ _ _
Clark and Powell,
They threw a tizzy fit.

Even the Error wrote it was incorrect
Marty and Paul just scoffed at the thought
While Pat was doomed to write
That the band sure had no blight
Only Kim
Knew something wasn’t right.

At the Times Herald she told the truth one day
Suddenly all the news was let out
While the heads hung in shame
No one ever got the blame
And they did
Not even post his name.

Down to the school board meeting brave mothers went
Give us a new direction to go
"Sexual harassment out"
Was their mighty little shout
But the board
Still looked at them with doubt.

It’s been ten years since all of this mess came out
Seems like the dust is settling down
Now coming to their wits
Four more teachers call it quits
And the band
Is really in the pits.

So, to the board who looks to the men with awe
Think with your head this time when you hire
This time Director girls
With their hair done up in curls
And a boy
Drum Major who can twirl!

"What do you think?" he asked.

"Cute," I answered. "I like the part about the Error not telling the truth, as usual. It is just like the asbestos. We'll print it even though most of our readers don't understand the local inference, but in a way, it is universal. The media tells the stupid people what to believe. It no longer offers the news and allows people to sift through and decide for themselves."

"When did it ever do that?" Red Jacket asked.

That took me and stopped me cold. I didn't have an answer. I assumed that at sometime the Free Press was like that, but now I was being asked a question by a man, a chief of a man at that, who in his 256 years had seen the whole thing.

"I don't know," I answered.

"That's because it new was," he said. "Whoever owns the paper tells the people what they want the to believe. And generally, they do just that. That's why John Satterwhite had to by The Error back. It's more than keeping what his daddy started. It's control and it is keeping the people down so that the highest starting wage in blue collar jobs is one on the line at Zippo. That's the unwritten but well known rule."

He had me. I knew he was right. And he kept on going.

"Take a ride through Warren and then take a ride through Bradford. Warren looks larger than Bradford but it isn't. Warren is actually smaller but they have more business and more activity. Why is that?"

"Who can say? Probably a number of reasons."

"Taxes," he said. "Warren's taxes are half of what they are in McKean County. Especially the school taxes. And perception, too," he said.

"What do you mean by that?" I asked.

"Warren knows it has to work for every job it gets and it does. Bradford on the other hand only pays it lip service. They talk a good game but the best they can do is entry level minimum wage jobs or scab jobs like the plant in Lewis Run. It is a non-union shop and like every other employer in Bradford, union is a no no. Management goes right to the brink keeping the unions out. They use scare tactics and they threaten the loss of jobs. So the people sit back and pray that at least the status quo will be maintained and the local paper backs that thinking up."

Red Jacket submitted his column. I took it and thought about what he had to say. He was right. I was forced to agree with him and for his first try I accepted his expense account. Then I went through the roof. 

"Texas!" I said. "He went all the way to Texas for a poem to make a point!" I couldn't believe my eyes.

Comments are welcome at editor@mlrmag.com. 

AUGUST 12 & 13, 2K

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