JUNE 10 - JUNE 16, 2000
JUNE 16, 2K
Summer colds and an Ode to Wal-Mart
Good morning. It is going to be another hot and rainy day here. The first front
went through yesterday in the afternoon and early evening and now we have another to the
west of us. Thunderstorms and lightning, rain and more rain.
And I have a summer cold and am still doped up on Ny-Quill. I owe you a column.
Probably tomorrow. In the meantime, I have enjoyed the comments on Marjorie West. Right
now they will make a whole column.
In the meantime:
Ode to Wal Mart
(With appropriate apologies to Seals and Crofts)
Go East of the ginger trees
To Foster Township and its breeze
Where Jim and Marie grow grass with ease
And Wal Mart fades away.
Dream on in a state of awe
Where rich developers once saw
Big bucks and jobs but with a flaw
As Wal Mart fades away.
Jim said, "Not in my backyard!"
He grinned as he smugly marred
Where Sam would have really starred
Old Wal Mart fades away.
Marie with her bells and bows
Could not stand to buy their clothes
She didn’t care an ounce for those
Whom Wal Mart makes their day.
The old and the urban poor
Saw prices stay hiked up once more
Competition --just a distant roar
As Wal Mart fades away.
Old Jim and his labor yell
Were really just a lie they tell
Of double-talk he knew so well
As Wal Mart fades away.
Marie sighs in big relief
As builders move on down the street
She knows she won’t have to meet
That Wal Mart crowd today.
And so, Foster Township fails
To fix what this town now ails
There won’t be no "rollback sales"
As Wal Mart fades away.
Go South to the land of sun
Past Degolia and past Lewis Run
Where now all the shoppers come
As Wal Mart builds today.
Ghostwriter in the Sky
JUNE 15, 2K
If you were Marjorie West
Good morning. It is 64.4 degrees at 6:29 A.M. I want to thank everyone for the
good wishes on my birthday and I want to wish Kim one - still a baby - ten years younger
than Donnie and me.
And this lady came in the mail too and she danced for me.
Thanks Mary. She wrote: "If you can't have Club Bradford, then you
can have me."
Ironically enough, one of my presents from Eileen last night was a sign
"9 Main Street" that we hung by the pool, seeing how that is what I did with
some of the enormous profit I made on that deal. There were even three babes on the sign
which the party goers identified as Hollywood Helen, The Serpent Woman, and Michelle
Corignani before she cut her hair.
Many of you expressed interest in my journey to find Marjorie West.
If you were Marjorie West, or the lady I found with the help of people
like you who read this column daily and networked the picture to other organizations, what
would you think?
I wrote it yesterday when I said: "The implications on the people who
raised her are enormous." They are because in all probability the man who stole her
became her father. And the mother who raised her was in all probability a party after the
fact to the theft. It was an evil and foul deed stealing a child from the road that Sunday
afternoon. It cast a shadow on a family that still remains sixty-two years later. The
stories and gossip that circulated in the days following her disappearance still remain to
this day.
One woman's Aunt Josie still contends that Shirley West was not the
natural father and it was the natural father who took her. Another woman says she was
taken to Canada where she was raised and sold into White Slavery. And if I hang out at the
Bradford Hotel tonight I am sure someone will tell me Martians took her.
After taking the time and finding the account of the taxi driver in
Thomas, West Virginia, Donald MacRae, at 11:35 P.M. on May 8, 1938, something inside me
said this girl was alive and no harm came to her.
"He drove up and asked me where there was a hotel. I pointed to the
one across the street. He had a little girl in the car with him. She was wearing a
dress and had red hair. She wasn't asleep. She sat up in the seat and looked at me when he
asked for directions. He drove across the street and went in. They must not have had any
rooms because he came back and asked me where he could buy a bottle of liquor. I told him
about a bar down the road and he drove off going south."
When MacRae was shown the picture of Marjorie West, he identified it as
the little girl in the car with the man. MacRae gave no description of the car other than
it was a dark sedan, and he did not remember the state the license plates were from.
Meanwhile in Pennsylvania an army of men and boys scoured the hills looking for the little
lost girl.
"Were you adopted?" I asked.
I received no answer. Her face went white and she changed the subject.
What if she knows?
In the three weeks that have passed since I came back from my trip I have
had a lot of time to consider many things. What if before they died, if they are dead, one
of the parents told her the circumstance that surrounded her coming to live with them?
Could that have happened? Of course it could have. And if she did know the circumstances,
wouldn't you, if you were her, want to protect these people who took such good care of
you?
"Who hired you to find this woman?" she asked me.
"No one," I answered.
"Then why are you doing this?" she asked.
"Because it is an unsolved mystery," I answered, careful not to
use the word "crime."
I handed her picture after picture. Dorothea sent me fifteen in all. She
looked at every one of them and took more than a casual look at them all. Not only did her
body language give her away, but there was no mistaking her from the picture of her at age
four. If anyone ever was a dead ringer for her picture as a child, it was this woman. The
resemblance was remarkable. When I pointed that out she made no attempt to deny it.
So what now?
Really, it is all up to her. I can believe all I want but until she is
prepared to tell us what happened and verify that she is indeed Marjorie West, there is
nothing I can do. I am corresponding with her - sending her information that I have. I
would like to visit her again later this summer. But in the meantime, what would you do if
you were in her shoes?
I am interested in what you have to say on this matter. Let me know at editor@mlrmag.com. Your suggestions will be
appreciated.
JUNE 14, 2K
Birthday presents all year round
Good morning. It is 66.7 degrees at 6:58 A.M. I slept in today. It is my
birthday. And as I told you last year, it is Donald Trump's birthday, too. He is exactly
one minute older than me and in a few minutes we both turn fifty-four.
Edna sent we a wonderful birthday card over the internet already. Thanks kiddo!
I loved it.
I compared our lives - Donnie's and mine, last year. I concluded that even though he
has all that money and all those women, I have a better life. One year later nothing has
changed. I wouldn't change anything with him. I've seen him on television and he has
really chunked up this past year. I've lost ten pounds and since my little scare last
September, have never felt better.
As he pondered running for the presidency, the wonderful people of this county retired
me from politics. That single act has turned out to be one of the best presents I got this
year. Dealing with idiots like I had to landed me in the hospital. And isn't life great!
The idiots are showing themselves up for what they are, too; and the people are seeing
them, finally for what they are, too.
Happy Birthday Donnie. It is 7:04 A.M.
In a way that vindicates me. I would rather be right than County Commissioner. And, I
would rather be healthier, too. And I am!
Happy Birthday Bud. It is 7:05 A.M.
My family says I am hard to buy for on my birthday. I am because I have everything I
want. I don't need anything and I tell them that. Having them is enough.
This past year I have moved away from being out and have turned in and to my family. We
lost our two old time dogs and one of our cats but we got Rocky, a nine month old Border
Collie who has become my buddy. And then there is Sam.
Sam is our grandson who loves his gramps. His gramps loves him, too. We swim together
and we go to the Rainbow Inn together. He likes riding in the car with Rocky and me and I
have hours and hours of movies of him. Sam has become a part of my life that makes
everything worth doing.
And that goes for the rest of my family.
Sam's mom and dad are great to be around and our youngest son is going to make us
grandparents again at the end of the summer. Our middle son is coming here for a party
tonight, driving up from North Carolina, and so are my nieces. What wonderful women they
have become.
Andie is great and I spent a week with Tanya recently. We traveled 2654 miles together
looking for Marjorie West. What an experience that was and what a wonderful time we had.
Did we find her?
We think we did. We just have to convince her that she is who we say she is. That is
not as easy as you may think. How do you tell a woman she is nearly two years older than
she thinks she is? Good luck!
I think finding her is the important thing. Proving it is her is something else.
The implications on the people who raised her are enormous. Setting aside the initial
act of stealing her, if it is her, she was obviously treated very well. She was raised to
be a Christian and a good woman. She was educated - became a nurse, and she married. She
had children and has grandchildren. Now she is retired and has moved into a new and very
lovely home set out in a rural southern setting.
As she held and carefully examined the pictures of the young West family provided by
Dorothea West Nicholson, there was something in her eyes. She held the pictures tightly
and she was almost memorizing them as she did. And there was a familiarity there, too. Was
she seeing pictures of her children and her grandchildren? I don't know. She didn't say.
We interviewed her and she interviewed us for nearly a half an hour.
She didn't throw us out even though a red headed bearded old bird showed up on her
doorstep with a young twenty-two year old blonde and began telling her that she was
someone else. When I asked her if she was adopted, she didn't answer. I felt she was and
so did Tanya.
Then, something she asked me was almost a dead giveaway that she was indeed from
Bradford.
"What is the relationship between the two of you?" she asked, wondering about
the obvious fact that there was a marked difference in our ages and I said we had been
travelling all week looking for her.
I explained Tanya was my wife's sister's daughter, my niece.
"Oh," she said, sounding like she was from Bradford in spite of the southern
accent. "They sent her along to keep you straight."
That cinched it for me. This woman, saying something like that to me, was indeed from
Bradford and in all probability Marjorie West! How did she know?
And when we left I promised to send her more information. She didn't tell us not to. So
the story is still unfolding even now. That in itself is a birthday present, but the real
present was the week I spent with my niece who took as much interest in the story as I
did. That was great.
So tonight we will all be together - my family and a few of my very close friends. It
will not be a party they are giving me but more a party we are giving ourselves. It will
be a celebration of the presents we have all year round and the love we have for one
another.
As Donald Trump chases more money, younger women, and even the Presidency of the United
States of America, I doubt very much if he has gotten the message. None of it means
anything if you can't kick back and be yourself with people who love you. Those are the
real presents and nothing else really matters. In that respect, and also waking up next to
my wife this morning, that is what really matters.
I hope Donnie has a great birthday. I know I will because I already have everything I
want. That in itself is the greatest present anyone can ever have.
Your comments are welcome at editor@mlrmag.com.
And you got it Mary.
JUNE 13, 2K
MW, Jack, and reformed whores
Good morning. It is 65.1 degrees at 6:04 A.M.
Wal-Mart is in the paper today, again. Hasn't anyone figured out that Wal-Mart
isn't stupid enough to put in a $20 million dollar store in a dead place like this? And
there is Jimmie Weaver, the union man, standing in the door of an opportunity for new
jobs, even though they will never materialize. But his message is real clear for any new
business looking to locate in dogpatch:
"Don't come here. We don't want you or the jobs and prosperity that we
need. No. I will raise your county taxes and my salary at the same time and the hell with
the rest of you."
And isn't it a shame that a County Commissioner is the person sending that
message because the development steps on his toes! That adds the accent mark to the
message and solidifies the imaginary wall (not Wal-Mart) around this county. Why even
pretend? All they want is the status quo and the chirping about tourism and new business
is a sham. Weaver proves that every time he opens his mouth at the Foster Township
meetings.
On that note, someone wrote in:
"Warm Weather Leave" or " Lay-offs"? It all depends
on"What the meaning
of is, is". And for those high priced shops down town, maybe the Wal-Mart will
actually bring business into town. DUHH!! Hey, that's a thought. Lower
prices bigger sales volume!
Nuff Said
You have to laugh out loud (LOL) on that one. Tom Clark brought Zippo's Warm
Weather Leave to light in his article yesterday. Good name for a layoff. Does this
mean that Bozo is going to layoff the usual, too? (ROFLMAO) Will the Porshe be kept off
Mechanic Street?
And Mary, you of all people asking me a question like that! I am ashamed of you. I
thought you of all people would have picked up on that almost immediately. I am not
reprinting your e-mail because it will give too much away.
Then there is the Prom Queen. I got this:
Bud, you know I enjoy pointing out when you are wrong! I am pretty sure I know who
you are talking about when you say "Prom Queen". Why are you "pickin' on
her?.....She's a babe! I don't know about (or care for that matter) all the political
sh......i.....er.....stuff that went down between you two, but she is a classic piece of CENSORED
! I don't keep up with all the local political antics, or read the Era much. The first
time I saw "her" was in the Era. It was one of her better photos (and quite
possibly the ERAs best!) and I got (CENSORED). Yep, I was (CENSORED) .
She is a LOT older than most of the girls I go "(CENSORED)" over, but
she is still HOT! Instead of "fighting" with her, I'd o've given her WHAT
EVER drugs she wanted, just to get her clothes off! You can call me a pervert, but I can
forgive her of all her "sins" against the Bradford people, because she is so HOT
!
Ouch!
With that, I will say the following: "Be careful what you wish for because
dreams come true." And from what I have heard, she may not be out of your reach. Are
you on disability?
I hope you have noticed that we have added a link to the Bradford Area High School
Class of 1969. We are offering similar links to any other class that has a web site and
would like the exposure.
And to Amy: I am waiting for the picture and then I am writing the article about wives
going off to LasVegas abandoning their husbands and children and setting so many other
events in motion. There is no telling where all of this will end.
Hello MW! Say hi to Jack.
Comments are welcome at editor@mlrmag.com.
JUNE 12, 2K
Good morning. It is 66.2 degrees at 5:59 on a rainy Monday morning. But that's
okay. I just had a great, great, great weekend with my family and best friend and we did
nothing more than sit by the pool and enjoy one another. So with that in mind, and
the fact that so many of you liked Friday's article, on to Tom Clark. But first:
NEW LINK OF LOCAL
IMPORTANCE!
The following links to the BAHS Class of 1969's home page:
http://www.delphi.com/bahs69
The Weather Sucks, Wish I Was There
BY TOM CLARK
Hey Gomer,
How's things in the Marines going for you? We were all hoping that you would come back to
march in our Memorial Day parade. It turned out to be a real hoot, especially with that
screwy preacher man who dressed up as Jesus on the cross. I guess you read all about it in
Cousin Bud's column.
Goober tells me he's not sending the Error to you anymore. He says that it
costs you more in phone calls just to find out if what you read is really true. I'll tell
you, that newspaper is always stretching the truth one way or another. They've fabricated
more whoppers than a Beverly Hills plastic surgeon.
I'll try to fill you in on what's happening around here. I guess the big story is the
Wal-Mart rumor that's floating around. Aunt Bea and Barney caught wind of it and turned it
into a real big issue.
At the town meeting the other day, all these folks were up in arms over it, some fer,
some agin. Floyd and Howard looked like they ere ready to come to blows. It seems that the
rumor has this Wal-Mart being put up right in Howard's back yard and he was trying to
throw his weight around, being he's on the county board.
I'm telling you, Goober, you can't go anywhere around town without someone asking you
about this store and what you think about it. I was at the diner yesterday and Juanita was
plugging me about it.
Barney is still seeing her on the side but I think Thelma Lou is wise to it. She's been
sneaking around some with that insurance man. It seems like everyone is messing around
some. For such a small town they sure seem to play it out in the open. I learned not to
ask anyone how their wife or girlfriend is, because chances are they have moved on to
another.
Remember that fat little girl who moved away when she was in 5th grade and never came
back here? Our stupid mayor and some of our cultured people decided to name a street after
her. It turns out that she went on to be one of those opera singers and a few around here
think that she's worthy of an honor.
One of the boys in the street department told me that the new sign for Marilyn Horne
Way just came in. I asked him if it was a real nice one and he said no, it's one of those
plain old green signs with the stick-on white letters, only bigger. You would think that,
if these buffoons were so Hell-bent on honoring some obscure unknown they would at least
try to put up a sign that would make her look important. When
it comes to class, the "C" and "L" are silent around here.
Goober tells me that some of the boys have something real special planned for the
dedication ceremony. I think they are just trying to see if the town will give them money
to stay away. It seems like any time someone comes up with an idea that doesn't agree with
what the town council wants, they will throw a bag full of money at them to make them go
away.
We have two real good guys on the town council, Tom and George, and the rest aren't
worth the toilet they sit on every morning. We are all hoping that these fine boys will
right the ship and put the ladies on the council back where they belong, maybe in the
kitchen. I'll tell you, this mayor we have now could screw up a free lunch. If they would
have stuck to their garden clubs and not think they know how to run a town, we all would
have been better off.
Cousin John took a layoff at the lighter plant, along with 190 others. They couldn't
call it a layoff, though, because of this deal they have with the town that says they have
to employ so many people in order to have their access road. So they are calling it a
"warm weather leave".It's just another one of those back room deals that we
aren't supposed to know about.
They've been pumping alot of money into the projects, trying to make them look real
nice. It seems like they could have spent alot less money on soap, shampoo and deodorant
and done everyone a favor. It must have been a pretty busy birthing season over the winter
in the projects. There sure are alot of new welfare monkeys being pushed around in
strollers.
Well, Gomer, I had better get at it. I need to run over to Mt. Pilot to pick up a few
things that you can't find here. It sure would be nice to have a Wal-Mart around here so I
don't have to drive over the state line all the time.
The shop owners down town are getting a little antsy over the rumor, knowing that it
might be the nail in the coffin for their businesses. If they just realized how over
priced they are on what little selections they carry, and do something about it to be
competitive, they might be able to attract some business.
I'll tell everyone you said hey and I hope that you get back home real soon. I'd like
to say that you won't recognize the place, but everything is pretty much still the same,
just a few more vacant store fronts. Keep 'em straight down there and I'll talk to you
later. Don't forget to write me once in awhile at tcclark@2-cool.com..
Your friend,
Tom
And your comments are welcome at editor@mlrmag.com.
And as a preview for tomorrow's article "Nothing worse than a reformed whore"
I say to MW that people in houses made of glass should not throw stones or gossip so much
about me and what I am doing. I have known about Jack for so very, very long, and I just
might start writing about the two of you. Then maybe I might include some other things you
never knew about on the other side of your little affair, too. So it might be best to
tighten your lips for the first time in your very long life you hypocrite.
JUNE 10 & 11, 2K
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