The Publisher's Page BY HAROLD T. BECK

MARCH 11 - MARCH 17, 2000

MARCH 17, 2K

West of Eden

Good morning. It is 22.1 degrees at 6:17 A.M. The bad weather has come and gone. We have a thin layer of snow on the ground here in lovely rural Marshburg, PA.

Now when I refer to Marshburg as lovely rural Marshburg, I am not just saying that. Obviously our fore fathers believed that at one point. Marshburg was formerly known as Eden (circa 1853).

There are no historical records in the Court House to document the founders of Eden or why they settled here. Back in those days this neck of the woods, and I mean woods, was primarily 300 foot tall hemlock trees. There were places where lightning strikes and subsequent fires had cleared out patches of the forest. That was the case with Eden.

The lightning strike, actually a series of lightning strikes, took place on June 3, 1805. It was during a severe storm that uprooted trees and began a small forest fire that consumed thirty or so acres that cleared out this part of the forest.

The giant hemlocks laid flat by the storm rotted and the area was stumbled upon by a group of men (five of them) who were being pursued by the Sheriff of the County of McKean from the seat of government in Smethport.

Twenty miles through the forest in those days was tantamount to hiding out in Ohio. And their transgressions were not all that serious. One Saturday in early May they had gone to town after a week of working in the forest. They promptly got drunk, busted up a bar or two, sought the comfort of a woman, and failed to pay her for services rendered.

Had the prostitute not been a cousin (kissin cousin) of the judge, the matter probably would have been forgotten. However, it was her complaining to him and her reminding him of the fact that he was the father of her eldest child, that brought the law on them. Faced with that, they let out to the west.

The Sheriff pursued them up the hill out of Smethport and into the big level area. One of the men knew the swampy area up there and with him only a hundred yards or so behind them, well within gun shot range, they disappeared into the tall swamp grasses and hanging trees that hid the sunlight from the ground. The Sheriff gave up the chase at that point.

Over the next several weeks the five men lived off the land. They drifted west staying on the top of the ridge and following the path of least resistance. In mid-June they came upon the area that was now mostly an open grassy field. Deer and elk were grazing in the field and the men, recognizing a find, decided that this was as good a place as any to stop and set up camp.

They built a crude shelter for themselves. Needing tools, two of them snuck back to Smethport and "borrowed" items necessary to survive.

Actually, after awhile their location wasn't all that big of a secret. They made frequent visits for supplies and staples, not to mention the comfort of local women. The Sheriff, mad at the judge, just couldn't exactly pinpoint them. Then when the judge died of syphilis (which he contracted from a Philadelphia prostitute on a trip to a Judicial Meeting) the matter was forgotten.

After several years a well worn path between the County Seat and the five or so cabins that had been erected on the edge of the large open area was established. Travelling merchants would visit the men coming out of Smethport and then continue on to Bradford using another trail they had found and also used frequently.

One of the men, Jeremy Holt, was a handsome young man who always had a way with the ladies. He was also a farmer who took his ability and put it to a use that would benefit the small settlement of loggers and trappers.

He grew some crops, mainly corn which he used to make corn liquor for his friends and the men of the settlement. But the fact that he was bound to the land left him lonely and feeling in need of something else. He made frequent trips down the hill to Bradford. After courting a local woman, he had the new judge marry them and took her to live with him in his small cabin. She was the lovely Kimberly.

Unfortunately, even back then, women were still women. Once you marry them everything changes. The cabin was too small and dark. The well was too far away from the kitchen. And she was tired of him sitting out there at his still sipping his wares. And when the baby arrived, things were even worse.

Kimberly's uncle, Tom Goodwill, was a local minister. He arrived weeks after finding out that his niece had borne a baby boy. He arrived to baptize him in the Christian fashion. And following him was the entire Goodwill clan as well as the Holts. In all about forty or so family members and friends came up the mountain from two different directions for the baptism.

On a bright Sunday morning,  June 14, 1860,  the first church service was performed out doors in the front yard of the new six room, four fireplace, Holt home. The boy was named Elija Julius Holt. Jeremy called him EJ for short. On that day the Reverend Tom Goodwill named the community Eden and in the next few months before winter came, a church was built and two of Kimberly's sisters with their families moved up on the hill from town.

The Holt corn liquor business flourished as did the local ministries. Jeremy would manufacture the brew by the gallons and the local ministers, Tom Goodwill included, would speak out against the evils of drinking.

He paid no attention to the fact that the men, the abusers of the corn liquor, were the very men who donated their time, talents, and energies to erect his new church. It was something that was unspoken and both sides were careful not to cross an invisible line that was drawn in the sand. They both understood that they needed one another to stay in business.

And it stayed that way for years. By 1874 the Holt family had grown to seven sons and one daughter. Holt corn liquor was known in Buffalo, Pittsburgh, Harrisburg, and even in Philadelphia. Government revenuers were paid off and left the Holt enterprise alone. Governors would be inaugurated and have their first toast with Holt Corn Liquor (trademark). It was enjoyed by the wealthy as they retired to have a cigar. The Holt name was known far and wide, as was the name of Eden.

But even then the Religious Right had it's say. They prevailed upon Washington to assign special deputy marshals to end this illegal activity. Tipped off that they were coming to arrest him, Jeremy packed up and moved west not to be heard from again. Someone said he changed his name to Seagram, but that was unsubstantiated.

The following year the name Eden was changed to Marshburg, after William A. Marsh, who was struck by lightning in the middle of Jeremy's old corn field on June 3rd. Over time the rich history of the top of this hill was lost, until now.

As for me, I live west of that place. I live on the edge of the village of Marshburg. I prefer to think of where I live as West of Eden.

Your comments are welcome at rdhedbud@penn.com.

MARCH 16, 2K

Tom and Bud at the movies (The return of the lost columns)

 Good morning. It is 5:08 A.M. The weather is supposed to change today. We’re going to get rain and some mixed snow. At least that’s what the weathermen are promising.

 Tom Clark never fails to amaze me. Here I was under the impression that the “lost columns” were going to go the way of the famous Lost Colony of the seventeenth century when low and behold I turn on the computer, go to my mail program, and they start downloading. They were out there. They must have been hitch hiking on the lost Martian Polar Lander and took a wrong turn at the asteroid belt. Never the less, they found their way to this little lap top when they couldn’t make it to the big boy. What does Michael Dell know that HP doesn’t? Must be the Texas thing again.

 Ironically enough, the subject, movies, is one that is near and dear to my heart. I am a movie attic, or is that movie addict?

 Anyway, going back to when I discovered they had such things as home movies, I was fascinated. Then came the Saturday Movie of the Week on television and I was hooked. With HBO and Cinemax and twenty four hour movies on demand I have been in heaven. And when Aunt Rose came to live with us five years ago and I finally had a willing audience, I began building a movie library.

 First it was VHS and then we graduated to DVD. As we made that change we had to adjust to part of the television screen not being used. Many of the DVD’s use a wide screen format and after you jump from a 19 inch screen to a 32 inch screen, you get irritated when a third of the extra picture space isn’t being used. But you get over that pretty quick when you are suddenly treated to the increased sharpness of picture, color, and sound. It’s digital!

 So, I consider my opinion on movies to have some weight. After Tom has his say, I will have mine.

 Video Stimulation BY TOM CLARK

 There I was at Poppy's on a typical Tuesday night, poring over the racks of 99 cent videos.  I noticed behind me several customers salivating over the freshly stocked new releases, as if their very life existences hinged on seeing the latest film to catch America's weakness for Hollywood hype.

 I rarely go to see a movie when it is first released and, if I waited long enough for it to come out on video, I can wait a few more weeks for it to hit the cheap rack.

 It is not as much a question of economics as it is my lack of urgency to see a popular movie.  It somewhat annoys me when a person expresses disbelief that I haven't, as yet, viewed a certain flick that mesmerized the rest of the country.

 “You have to rent this video", exclaims a friend who could, quite possibly,  be the world's dullest person and video rentals are his only avenue of excitement.   No, I don't "have to" rent it today, or next week even.  My life has not been reduced to the final option of discussing flicks due to the lack of meaningful conversational topics.  No, I do not feel as if I am missing something by not running out and renting a movie as soon as it hits the store.  I'm a patient guy, I'll wait.

 I'm quite content to dig through the "oldies" and find a few that I had forgotten that I saw twenty years ago. Or, perhaps, a movie with Andy Garcia that I never heard of until spotting it on the shelf. Perhaps I'm in the mood for a good laugh and watching "Blazing Saddles" for the twenty-third time will do the trick.

 As a former student of theatre,   I tend to look for something deeper than a title, a star name or a plot.  There has to be a sense of realistic drama and a cerebral meaning  to a film before I will consider it to be worth watching.  Excluding the cornball comedies that I have a weakness for, a movie that makes me think about the message delivered by the writer and director gets my Oscar vote.                      

 In my opinion, which, by now, you know I'm happy to share, the movies of the last ten years, well, suck.  It seems that Hollywood is more inclined to sell a movie weighted with special effects than it is to offer superior acting and directorship.  More often than not the general public mistakes a computer-oriented visual spectacular for a cinematic work of art.

I think the movie that really turned me off to the industry's infatuation with special effects was "Die Hard", with Bruce "White Men Can't Sing The Blues" Willis.  The final scene of him laying on a runway and igniting jet fuel that, inevitably, lights the stream of leaking fuel from a plane in the sky, thus blowing it up in midair, was too much. Everyone who believed that was possible please excuse yourself from the planet.

An article in the March, 2000 issue of Inc. Magazine polled top executives as to what movies most influenced their management style. The results were not surprising to me, since I've seen most of the Top Ten choices and realize their motivational potential.

The movies chosen by the business leaders were:

1.  Twelve O'Clock High

2.  12 Angry Men

3.  Apollo 13

4.  It's A Wonderful Life

5.  Dead Poets Society

6.  Norma Rae

7.  Bridge Over The River Kwai

8.  Glengarry Glen Ross

9.  Elizabeth

10.  One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest

All of these films have common threads of crisis management, inspiration, motivation and leadership.  Characters overcome horrific odds with triumphant results.  That's what it is all about, not only in business, but in life itself.  

The next time you pack the kids in the mini-van for a trip to the video store, skip the must-sees and check out the 99-cent rack. Perhaps you will run across a movie that inspired you at some point in your life.  If it worked for you, it will for your kids.  There is a plethora of great classics on those shelves that will not only entertain your family but expose them to a world of possibilities.

When was the last time you saw "The Sting"?  Or "Rebel Without A Cause"?  Or "The Deer Hunter" or "Dog Day Afternoon"?  Treat yourself and your family to three superb movies for the price of one crappy new release.  We should never forget that the truly great classics are for more than just entertainment.  They are a celebration of the human

spirit.

And I say, “In the words of Jonathan Quail Higgins, “Oh my God!”

Tommy, Tommy, Tommy! Are we about to become the Sinkhole and Egghead of movies from these here parts? Well written article. Great delivery. Content and subject matter fine. But movies for crisis management? Inc. Magazine? Please leave the planet? You are a bit of a snob!

Go down to the Bradford Hotel and ask Sheffer the last time he watched a movie to develop his crisis management skills. Ask Welfare Wes about celebrating the human spirit. Better yet, ask Gizmo about “The Sting.”  He will tell you that’s how his family in New York City survives.

Life Tommy. Life.

In the words of the great Irish Tenor and finest police chief in all of Northwestern Pennsylvania, Billy Peckham, “I need background when I pass out. That’s what those Academy Award winning movies are for. Give me Bruce Willis any day. I don’t care if it is realistic or not. I want to be entertained. And criticizing him playing like he is some tough guy is entertaining to me. I want my mind in neutral, not full speed ahead. I need to rest the gray matter.”

And besides, crisis management? Why isn’t “Boogie Nights” on that list? Watch that movie and you have real crisis management.

Forget about that crap, Tommy. Come down out of the clouds. Watch a cartoon for once. Watch one of the old violent cartoons. You know the ones that supposedly made our kids act out what they saw in the days before they were bringing bombs and guns to school, before they were pulling fire alarms and ambushing the student body as they exited the building. We didn’t have crack houses there and we didn’t have six year olds with 9mm’s either.

Movies are supposed to be fun. At least that’s what I want. I want them to be fun, sad, sexy, and even violent.

Aunt Rose loved the violent ones best of all. She would complain to Sue that “…..all these people watch here are violent movies” but those were the ones that kept her riveted to the screen. Put on a comedy or a musical and she would say: “Harold. Maybe you would rather watch a football game or the news. I don’t want to hog your time with what I want to watch.” Heck, Tom. One snowy Sunday, Aunt Rose and I watched all five Rocky movies. Imagine that! Over ten hours of Sylvester Stallone non stop.

“It’s a Wonderful Life” is great at Christmas. But fortunately for us Christmas comes but once a year. And once a year is when I watch it. Once a year, every year.

And “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest”? Walk down Main Street in our so called Hysterical District. You don’t need no stinking movie. You have real life with people hearing and talking back to real voices that really aren’t there.

I’m with Billy Peckham. Give me Bruce Willis any day. I like him even more now that he is rid of Demi Moore.

YOUR comments and rebuttal are welcome at rdhedbud@penn.com.

MARCH 15, 2K

Last night's recipe

Good morning. It is 36.9 degrees at 6 A.M. sharp.

Happy day after your birthday, Mary. I should have remembered. You did tell me your birthday was the same day as my anniversary.  And your note to me was beautiful and I want to share it with everyone else.

Bud, your ramblings about the love of your life and your constant companion are beautiful. Words can never be erased and your "envelope is full".

Savor the sweetness of her scent, the fear of her gaze, the
softness of her body, and the guidance of her intuition. Love her the way she loves you and forget the way she scoffs back at you. She loves you, too! And, don't you forget it!

And to ASW and J&J thank you for the Anniversary Toast! Also, thank you Geoff. At least you read my column to remember significant dates. The Princess and Scissors Man don't and didn't. But no matter. I usually forgot my parents' anniversary. It was important to them. Me, I like my children, had other things to worry about - or so I thought.

Tommy Clark has two columns out there floating around in Cyber Space. I blame Penn Com and this lousy mail program I use. I sure could use them today. Sharyn and I had a little too much champagne last night and aside from the claim that I was "a hard drinker" by the mysterious letter writer, I am feeling the effects as I plug away today.

So, instead of giving you an update on MUTANT BEACH FEST 2000 (copyright) as I planned, I will give you a great recipe. This is what I prepared for Sharyn and myself for dinner last night. We will call this dish, Steak Sharyn. It is easy and you can do this at home with little or no trouble.

You need the following ingredients: Two small steaks, preferably filets. Marinate them in Italian dressing for several hours. Not a big deal. Just put them in a bowl and pour the dressing over them and turn several times. You want a more than you need because you will cook the steaks in what they don't absorb.

You also need some asparagus; a can of crab meat, two dozen or so uncooked shrimp, lemon juice, butter, and the package variety of Hollandaise Sauce mix.

Do the asparagus first. Maybe a while before the meal I did it at four and we ate at seven. Bring water to boiling and then add the asparagus and let it remain in the water for exactly five minutes. Remove and place on a plate and put in the refrigerator.

Open the crab meat and drain off the water. Put it in a bowl. Take the shrimp and remove the tails. Put the shrimp in the same bowl. Put that in the refrigerator.

When you are ready to eat, get a skillet (I used a wok) and place some oil (not much and I used olive oil) in it so it thinly covers the bottom center. Before heating add spices. I used garlic powder, crushed red pepper, and basil. Bring it to a medium heat.

Take the steaks and the excess Italian dressing and dump it all into the skillet or wok. Cover.

Now prepare the Hollandaise Sauce according to the directions. Be sure to use the lemon juice at the end. The lemon flavor is important.

Turn the steaks several times. Five minutes has now gone by. Add the shrimp and crab to the skillet or wok. Cover again.

Stir to insure the shrimp get cooked. You can tell they are done when they change color. When they are add the asparagus just so it is slightly heated and not cold. When it is warm you put the asparagus on the right side of the plate as you look down at it. Then you place the filet or steak to the left, and all around and over it you put the shrimp and crab. Generously cover with the lemon flavored sauce and serve. Steak Sharyn.

Your comments on this recipe are welcome at rdhedbud@penn.com.

MARCH 14, 2K

The important things

Good morning. It is 33.8 degrees at 3:33 A.M. Today is my wedding anniversary.

Aside from remembering that it is, not to mention I remember the number of years, too; it is also a time to look back and reflect. And in reflecting on a life with another person you suddenly realize that so many things that seemed to be paramount in your life at certain times, really were not.  Looking back in the quiet of the morning, they now seem relatively insignificant.

As a young man married to another person I had no sense of the future beyond myself and how it affected me. As an older man married to Sharyn I have no sense of what life would be like without her. In fact, so much has blended itself into a collage of places and events that seem to run together and become confused with one another, nothing is clear before I met and married her. All that really is important now is what happened so many years ago on this date.

Spring time in the hill country brings out the Texas wildflowers. If you have never been to Texas in the spring you  have missed one of nature's serene and wonderful events. On that Sunday morning following a heavy downpour the sun came out and the flowers exploded.

Two small boys, Jason and Geoff, one hers the other mine thrown into a family not of their own choosing, picked a wedding bouquet for their mother. Friends and acquaintances came to witness an event that many probably thought had no chance of surviving. A fallen away monk turned cocktail lounge piano player brought sacred relics to sanctify the marriage and honor my Catholic background. And finally a kindly Methodist minister arrived to perform the marriage and witness the vows.

It was so long ago but it is embedded in my mind like it was yesterday.

So much has happened since then. The two boys are now men. One is expecting a child of his own. But the memory of them climbing the hill and coming back with the flowers far out weighs the memory of them climbing the same hill and bringing back the rattlesnake in a bag.

And that is the way life is. We remember the important things. We push the rest into a corner and give it the importance that it is really due. And we move on. Life is like that. Everything seems to fade.

Going through Aunt Rose's papers I found something she had written on an envelope that contained her husband's birth certificate and death certificate. It read:

"Important documents on the life of my dearest and beloved husband, A. Lawrence Eschmann."

It was a simple sentence. It identified the contents of an envelope. It did that but it did something else, too. It gave me insight into what she was feeling as she handled the envelope.

One can only imagine the pain she must have felt when she wrote that. The man she had spent her entire adult life with was gone. She was placing the two documents that proved his existence in an envelope to put away. How many of us would have taken the time to identify that envelope in such a way?

The events of the past six months in my life have made an impact on me. There has been a birth, a death, valued friends lost, and now the opportunity to reflect on a life, my life. In every instance as I attempt to be solitary and confine my thoughts to the examination of truly important things that I have done - wrong and right. In doing so, each and every time I come back to a joint life. The life I share with my wife.

No single act of mine since I have married her has only affected me. That is a startling reality. And as marriages fail and people break up lives and as they go their own ways to make the same mistakes with a new person I wonder if they have ever thought of it like that. I know I didn't. I didn't but everything I did not only had an impact on me, but the lives of my wife and our children, too. And it still goes on.

So after these years with a fine and good woman, a woman I love, I value the important things. Things like fresh squeezed orange juice after you taste the stuff you get at the grocery store. The little dog that follows me around and lays next to me as I write. The phone call in the middle of the day that is a reminder that she still loves me inspite of myself. Hearing her  come through the door at the end of the day. Sitting with her. Dining with her. Sleeping with her. And just knowing her. Those are the important things. Aunt Rose knew it and now I do, too.

                                                                                                        Your comments are welcome at rdhedbud@penn.com.

MARCH 13, 2K

The coalition

Good morning. It is 18.1 degrees at 6:14 A.M.

An interesting item came in this morning's mail. I will share it with you.

I live in a house that is build of gun powder! It has been set on fire! It is burning..... and burning! The trigger (the budget) on the gun has been pulled that set the house on fire!

Was it greed? Was it arson? was it robbery? Was it rampage like a runaway train that can't be stopped? Was it power to abuse? Was it power to oppress? or, Is it a leash around the neck, pulled titer every day, till it knocks the wind out?

Should I turn away and pretend : I don't know? I did not see? I did not read or hear?

Should I swallow one more bitter pill? How many you took?
I will be there whenever I can. I will be their mirror! When I am not, let my shadow remind them what they have done!

What and where would you be?

The author will remain nameless. However, this came at a time when I have been thinking about exactly what he/she writes about.

The house is on fire. The house is McKean County. And it is on fire for exactly all the reasons that the author asks about in his/her piece. But there are two major reasons and they are the very reasons I was elected and then defeated. They are greed and ignorance.

Greed on the part of the small group that has always run things here. Greed on the part of the children of the men who put the system in motion.

Ignorance on the part of a little over 48,000 who allow less than 100 to call all the shots and say what will happen and who will do it here where we all live.

Then there are the hangers on. Maybe they, above everyone in this little small town game are the real perpetrators of the system. They perhaps are worst of all because without them as loyal soldiers and lieutenants, the system would fail because the leaders would never carry out their own work. The leaders are dedicated to maintaining  the status quo, the soldiers insure it.

For four years and even before that, I was the lone thorn. I was there to point out what was wrong and I alone took all that came with doing that. When I did not buckle, they turned on my associates and friends, and even my own sister-in-law. That still didn't stop us. We went on. Finally, the voters decided that it was enough but it didn't take them long to realize what a dreadful mistake they made.

Looking back at all the battles that were fought alone - Tax breaks for friends of the select few; No taxes for ARG while the employees took large wage cuts and the owners lined their pockets; The fair taxation of property; Help for the Seniors; Help for young families and our children; Asbestos at Bradford Regional High School; The balancing of the budgets; Controlling County Spending; and maybe even more important - Keeping government open and accessible to the people. Finally, the pledge not to raise county taxes.

Now what?

Already the coalition of taxpayers have been placed under suspicion and their leaders are under attack. They as a body now stand alone as I did for all those years. They stand alone and certainly it is the hope of the few and their three stooges in Smethport that they will soon lose interest and go away.

Why wouldn't they?

It is not in the best interest of the local news media to give them the coverage that they are due. No. Instead, the local news media will go out of its way to ignore, misrepresent, and twist what they are really after. They will not deliver the message. Instead they will feed the ignorant the script they have been told to deliver. And the ignorant will believe them.

The Chamber of Commerce, Tourism, City Hall, County Government, Local Industry and the lack there of all come under their direct control and influence.

Raising taxes was necessary to perpetuate the system they control so tightly. Raising taxes was necessary to discourage any other industry in relocating here and forcing wages up in the labor force. Why else would they welcome and endorse the anti-labor practices of the major employers here in this county?

In all probability the coalition will not survive. It will not survive because it will not generate the excitement and initiative of the people.  It will not survive because it will not attract new and additional leaders. It will not do that because the existing leaders are already painted with the brush of being kooks and extremists and the people of this county, as different as we are, do not want to be singled out as being anything but a friend and ally of the so called "movers and shakers" of the historic Main Street of our county.

Sad. Sad that they weren't there in mass in 1996. Sad that they were distracted by things like where I served in my time in the service and ignored the real problem - The where's mine mentality. Sad that they allowed themselves to be led like the sheep that the others knew they were. Sad. Just sad.

I don't have to be a prophet or a psychic to see the future of the coalition. No. I just have to understand that just like the asbestos, everyone would rather look the other way and pretend it really isn't happening. They would rather crucify the messenger and behead John the Baptist. They would rather leave the coalition out in the wilderness crying to the wind and the trees. And unless the coalition can attract exactly what they are not, they will fail and things will go on and on and on.

Sad. Very, very sad.

Your comments are welcome at rdhedbud@penn.com.

MARCH 11 & 12, 2K

There were no new stories

---

If you have a comment on this article please click here.

[ Top ]  [ Home ]